I was barely sixteen when I had Jimmy. I’d been a horny little teenager, and in retrospect, I realized that my behavior was at least partly a rebellion against my strict parents.

I’d probably have lost my virginity much earlier if the boys in my year hadn’t been so ... let’s be kind and say that they were inexperienced. As it was there’d been many innocent(ish) fumblings, I’d given a few handjobs, and just a single blowjob to a boy named Tony, who’d begged particularly nicely. Anyway, the end result was that I mostly had to satisfy my frequent and intense urges myself, with fingers and whatever else I could find that looked like fun.

That all changed when I first laid eyes on Paul. He’d been standing outside the workshop of old McKenna’a Auto Repairs smoking a cigarette. He looked to be about eighteen or nineteen and was wearing a denim bib overall rolled down to his waist and a tight, white T-shirt that he filled out really very nicely. The T, and indeed his face, were smeared with grease and, as he stretched, I saw his stomach muscles all ribbed and gorgeous. He had a mop of unruly dark hair falling over his eyes and a dark shadow of beard. He looked, in short, dreamy. I stood there imagining how it would feel to be held in those strong arms and have that beard scratch my delicate face as he kissed me with his full, sensuous lips. Or kissed my pussy, I thought as it tingled, and my legs went all weak.

Just at that moment, he saw me and smiled. Dear God, what a smile! Wide and honest, and full of even white teeth. I was in love! I smiled back, suddenly nervous under his intense gaze. I was in my school uniform, not yet rolled down to avoid the wrath of my parents, and his eyes traveled slowly down my body, lingered on my legs, and then moved back up to my face. He beckoned me with a finger and I tottered toward him, not by any means sure that my unsteady legs would obey me.

“Hi, sweetie. What’s your name?” His deep, gravelly voice just added to the sex hormones flooding my young body, and for just a second, I wasn’t sure that I knew the answer.

“Marian,” I blurted out after just too long a pause.

“That’s a pretty name. I’m Paul. What grade are you in, Marian?”

“Twelve,” I lied, trying to keep my tone calm. He raised an eyebrow as if unconvinced, and then his killer grin returned.

“I’ve got to finish up here. Maybe ten minutes? We could go for a ride in my car after, if you’d like?”

Yes! Yes! Yes! I screamed inside. “Sure,” I replied as coolly as I could, as if I went for rides with sexy man-beasts like him every other day.

I watched him bending over the front of some car for ... well, it could have been minutes or it could have been hours. The overalls were stretched over his tight buns, and I got the occasional intriguing glimpses of apparently bare hips down the sides. By the time he turned back to me, I was breathing hard, my nipples were trying to bore through my bra and blouse, and my panties were decidedly moist. He gestured that he was going to wash his hands and that he’d be two minutes.

I was literally trembling with anticipation as I waited, and then a car pulled out from the back. It looked like rust on wheels, but it sounded like thunder. It stopped next to me and he reached over and opened the passenger door.

It was actually pretty nice inside with one of those bench seats all the way across. The moment my bottom touched down, the thunder rose to ear-splitting levels and my head was thrown back. I screamed, partly from the fact that we were hurtling down the street at a crazy speed, partly from the noise of tortured rubber, but mostly because the vibrations of the engine, coming up through the seat and into my pussy, were to die for!

I shuffled across so that I could snuggle next to him, and he grinned down at me and put his hand on my thigh. I covered his hand with mine, and he pouted, but only until I moved it higher up under my skirt so that his fingers brushed the front of my cotton panties. Then his smile returned even wider. That was the moment that I fell in love with him even more - he was the only boy who’d ever known how to touch my pussy properly, and I nestled my head against his bulging arm muscle and could have purred at his expert caresses and the throbbing of the engine.

He parked up in a clearing off an unmade road and switched the engine off. He may have said something to me, I’m really not sure, and I fear that I basically threw myself at him. I kissed him, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, delighted by the smoky taste and his eager tongue. That day, he was the first to touch my bare pussy, and the first to penetrate me with his fingers, repeatably bringing me to the brink of a climax, before infuriatingly slowing things right down. Then he placed my hand on his erection and whispered into my ear. In moments, I was in the back seat, panties off, legs spread, begging him to fuck me.

He climbed into the back as well, and I watched, thrilled and not a little scared, as he rolled a rubber down over his worryingly large erection. I couldn’t help wondering if, even wet as I was, I’d be able to accommodate him in my virgin pussy. Even so, it was tight. Very tight. For a while I wasn’t sure it was going to fit, then finally my lips parted and the tip slid inside me. It was more of an intense stretching sensation, rather than pain, but my love was inside me, and I was desperate for more.

He was mercifully patient with me, never forcing too hard, but gradually the vice-like grip that my vagina had on him relaxed and I opened up. The feeling of fullness was exquisite, as was the friction of his silky skin, caressing my insides, sending wave after wave of pleasure right through me, as he went deeper and deeper.

I clung to him, hardly able to breathe as he fucked me with gorgeous long strokes, almost withdrawing, before plunging back deep inside me again. When I came, it was an all-consuming, raw, primal climax, nothing like the lovely but gentle ones that I’d given myself up to that point. And he carried on! In no time I could feel another one bubbling up inside. When he slipped out, I thought nothing of it and, after a little scrabbling, he was back filling me all up again. I climaxed a second time with my legs wrapped around his bum and crossed at the ankles.

His penis swelled even larger inside me before he juddered in my arms, thrusting his full length into me time and again as he came. In my ecstasy, I still remember thinking that it was lovely that, even with the rubber, I could feel his hot sperm in my vagina; I had visions of it filling up the little teat at the end. But when he pulled out there was no teat. There was no condom at all.

Not surprisingly, I freaked out, searching for it inside as best I could while Paul kept repeating, “I’m sorry.” Of course, when I finally found it, it was empty.

I prayed and prayed until the day my period was due. But it didn’t arrive that day, or the next, or the next. The pregnancy test was just a formality.

I knew it would be bad when I told my parents, but I didn’t expect the words my dad called me, or for him to kick me out of the house there and then. Mom, well she looked sympathetic but, as usual, didn’t say a word.

I was scared pretty much shitless when I told Paul, but he was amazing, promising that he’d always look after me. His parents had moved away when he was seventeen, but he’d wanted to stay, which meant he’d had to drop out of school and that was when he’d started working at McKenna’s. He had a small, one-bedroom apartment above somebody’s garage. It wasn’t much but we were very, very happy.

When Jimmy was born, it made things even harder, but we were coping. Just about. Then I opened the door one day to find two very unhappy-looking policemen standing there, and, over the next few minutes, my world fell apart. Paul had been riding his old Harley and had met a truck coming the other way on the wrong side of the road. He’d been killed instantly.

If it hadn’t been for Jimmy, I don’t think I’d have made it through those times. As it was, the pay-out that Paul’s insurance got for me meant that he did keep his promise.

Bringing Jimmy up on my own wasn’t easy of course, but luckily for me, he was a delight as a toddler, cheerful and bubbly. As he got older, it soon became apparent that he was a very intelligent and hard-working boy, but somehow still managed to be popular at school.

At fifteen, he would often invite his friends round to play video games in his room, so normally it sounded like a battlefield in there, even with the door shut. This one day though, as I walked past his door, I didn’t hear sounds of gunfire or explosions. Ten minutes later, it was the same. Just a little concerned, I knocked on the door, but there was no reply. My hand was halfway to the handle when the door opened. Jimmy was standing there, white as a sheet, his lower lip and chin both trembling. Over his shoulder I saw the other boys also looking scared, half of them staring wide-eyed at Jimmy, and the others looking down at a Ouija board.

I’d had a bad experience with one when I was younger. I didn’t really believe in the things even then, and I was convinced that it had been a girl called Tanya pushing it to spell out: I, W, I, L, L, K, I. We all took our fingers off at that point and never played with it again.

I ushered all of the other boys out of the house, and then came back to Jimmy’s room, where he was still standing there, shocked and trembling. I got him to lie down on the bed and lay next to him, holding him tightly with his face to my chest, until his shaking had stopped. As I was getting up, something poked against my thigh, and I looked down to see his tracksuit bottoms tented out. I found the idea that he might get hard while cuddling me quite shocking, but I told myself that he was a teenage boy, and it was perfectly natural. Trying not to make a big thing of it, I covered him with a blanket and left him to rest and recover.

When I went back an hour later, he was lying on his side, facing away from me. I went around the other side of the bed, and what I saw stopped me dead: he was staring straight at me and smiling, but he was masturbating! As I stared horrified at his pumping fist, he moved it and cupped his balls, as if deliberately showing his erection to me. It looked almost painfully swollen, the veins standing out like cords and the tip so purple and tight that it looked like it might split.

When he went back to pulling on it, I looked uncomprehendingly at his face. His expression was unashamed, almost challenging. Totally flustered, I actually apologized to him before fleeing the room.

I went back after about another hour and knocked on his door, praying that he’d gotten over ... whatever the hell it was. It opened immediately and he was standing there, completely naked and jerking off again, so aroused that precum was dripping from the shiny tip.

“Um ... Jimmy, darling, it’s quite normal to do that, but it’s best if you do it in--” I stopped at that point because his hips lurched and he ejaculated all over me, covering my blouse and the front of my skirt in rope after rope of thick white cum. The amount was frankly astonishing for a young boy, and all the time he was cumming, his glazed eyes were staring directly into mine, as if daring me to object.

For the second time that day, I ran away from my own son. I took off my clothes, pulled on a robe, and then took them downstairs to put them in a wash. I went back to my bedroom, threw the robe onto the bed, and was looking for some clean clothes to wear when I heard a sound behind me. When I turned around, Jimmy had opened my door and was staring at me in just my bra and panties. “Jimmy? What on earth do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, but he just kept looking at my body, his eyes going from my tits to between my legs and then back. “Jimmy!” I said crossly. Without saying a word, he just turned and walked away.

In a daze, I pulled some clothes on and then sat on the bed. I didn’t understand what was going on. It was all so unlike him - he’d never ever done anything like that before. I knew that teenagers sometimes pushed against their boundaries, but it was the way he’d done it as much as what he’d done - there was a nastiness to it that was totally out of character.

As I approached his bedroom again, the familiar sounds of gunfire were strangely reassuring. He was sitting at his desk, playing a video game, as if nothing had happened.

I steeled myself for an uncomfortable conversation. “Jimmy, that was a very unpleasant thing to do,” I told him firmly.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he said, without pausing his gameplay. “It was Bobby’s board. I didn’t really even want to play with it.”

“I didn’t mean the Ouija board. I meant ... I meant ... I meant after that, when you ... masturbated on me.”

He turned away from the computer and stared at me as if I was completely mad. “I did what?!”

“In the doorway. You ... came all over my clothes.”

He frowned at me, scrunching his eyes up and peering intently at my face, as if trying to make out some tell-tale sign that I might be joking. “Does that sound like the sort of thing that I’d do, Mom?”

“Well, no. But you did,” I insisted.

“No,” he said with finality. “No, I didn’t.”

I managed to get an emergency appointment at our doctor’s office. Jimmy was looking particularly angelic as we sat in the waiting room.

“Wait here for a moment,” I told him when we were called in.

I’d decided to avoid telling her about him ejaculating all over me if I could - for some reason _I_ felt ashamed of it. I began to explain to her about him masturbating while I watched, but she cut me off.

“All boys masturbate, Mrs. Archer. It’s perfectly normal.”

“But it wasn’t like him at all, it was totally out of character.”

“He’s just testing limits with you Mrs. Archer. Again quite normal for pubescent boys.”

“But- but- he denied anything happened, as if he couldn’t remember.”

“Didn’t you ever deny something when you were bad as a child?”

“Well, yes. But he--”

“Mrs. Archer,” she said, aggressively cutting over my words. “Is there anything else that I can help you with?”

Before I could even answer, she was sorting papers on her desk as if I’d already gone.

When I went back to the waiting room, Jimmy stood up and looked confused when I led him out.

“What’s going on, Mom?” he asked.

“It’s just Mommy being silly ... apparently,” I told him, still fuming.

All the way home in the car, he was perfectly normal, chatting away, and I began to wonder if it was me. Maybe it was just him ... being a boy ... possibly brought on by the stress of the incident with the Ouija board.

By the time we got home, I decided that I’d try to put it behind me. Jimmy went up to his room, and I went to the kitchen to cook us something nice for dinner.

I was browning some pieces of chicken when I heard him behind me. “How are you doing, sport?” I asked without turning round. He didn’t answer but put his arms around my waist and hugged me from behind. “That’s nice,” I said, wriggling into the hug. Then, with rising alarm, I felt his penis pushing between my butt cheeks. “Er, Jimmy. That’s enough now,” I told him, but he clung on, his erection forcing the material of my skirt and my panties into my crack, and rubbing against my sensitive asshole. I’d had no sexual contact with anyone since Paul’s death and my body clearly missed it more that I’d thought, because I found to my dismay that it was actually turning me on.

“Please stop now, Jimmy,” I said, hearing the panic in my own voice. But he carried on, pushing me against the stove and driving his penis up and down between my butt cheeks. I moved the hot skillet to the back of the stove and forced him back until I could turn around.

“What do you think you were doing?” I demanded.

He wouldn’t meet my eye, muttering, “I only wanted a cuddle.” As he stalked away, I could have sworn I heard him hiss, “Fucking bitch,” under his breath, but it had been so quiet that I couldn’t be sure.

As I stood there, looking at his retreating back, I was breathing hard. It was partly from anger, but my tingling clit was testimony that it was partly arousal as well.

I watched him carefully over our meal, and while we watched TV together, but he seemed his old self again. Again I started to doubt myself - had I overreacted?

I went to bed that night and tossed and turned for ages, my mind running over the events of the day?

The next thing I knew, I was waking from a strange dream, confused by a wetness on my lips. When I opened my eyes, Jimmy was standing over me and drips of precum were falling onto my lips in a steady stream. His face was weirdly distorted with bulging eyes that seemed to have no spark of intelligence behind them at all.

“Jimmy,” I said, “what are you doing?” He gave no sign he’d even heard me. I stood up to take him back to his room and he clamped his arms around me and rubbed his cock against my bare thigh frantically, just like a horny dog, until he came all over me again.

I almost had to carry him back to his bed and, when I put him in it, he just turned over and seemed to go instantly to sleep.

I cleaned myself up and then, sure that I’d never get back to sleep, I resorted to Google. After a few searches, I found ‘Sexsomnia’ or sleep sex, which seemed related to sleepwalking, but included engaging in sexual activities. It seemed to fit, but the only treatments I could find were tranquilizers and anti-depressants, and I really didn’t want to go there if I could help it.

In the morning he was again totally back to normal and, as far as I could tell, had no recollection of the previous night’s events. I watched him carefully all that day for any unusual behavior, but he seemed back to his old self.

I went to bed that night, my mind churning over what to do. When I woke up this time his cock was actually in my mouth. I tried to call out but he put his hand on my forehead and forced it into my throat. I panicked, gagging, and couldn’t breathe, flailing at him. His face, looking down at me, was red and angry, and his lifeless eyes were bulging. He came, pumping his seed into my throat seemingly endlessly. Then all of the anger seemed to drain from his face and he looked mortified and began to cry.

The fear that I’d felt seemed to melt away just as suddenly as his anger, and I comforted him, once again putting him back to bed.

I didn’t sleep at all for the rest of the night, and I was up at dawn, finding chores to do to keep myself busy, while I tried to decide what on earth to do.

I was kneeling next to the bath, cleaning it, when I heard him come into the room behind me. I felt him lift the back of my skirt and objected, trying to stand up, but he put his hand on the small of my back and held me down as he yanked my panties down to my knees.

“Jimmy! No! No!” I cried, scrabbling to get to my feet. But my hands couldn’t get a grip on the slippery wet bath and my bare feet just slid on the tiled floor.

He put his hand around me and roughly jammed two fingers into me, his fingers curled up as he expertly sought out my G-spot, while his thumb pressed on my clit. It was awful, appalling, but my body betrayed me, and I felt ashamed as I began to lubricate.

“Jimmy, please stop,” I begged as he frigged me mercilessly, the intense physical pleasure making my juices flow freely all over his hand.

I felt a moment’s relief when he withdrew his fingers, but then I felt him stabbing at me with his penis, like being poked with a broom handle, and he was covering my ass and legs with precum. Again, I tried to fight him off, but I just couldn’t get any purchase with my hands or feet. Then I felt him settle at the entrance to my vagina.

“No, Jimmy!” I screamed as he plunged the full length of his erection into me in one hard stroke. The shock was overwhelming and I struggled to get free, but he kept pulling up on my hips, causing his thrusting penis to press right on my G-Spot, as if somehow he knew exactly how to cause me maximum pleasure.

“Please don’t do this,” I pleaded, but with less conviction this time; my arousal seemed to be draining my willpower away. I was basically slumped over the edge of the bath as he pounded into me. I began to cry just as he reached around my leg and began to expertly rub me right on my clit hood, while his other hand sought out my nipples and pulled on them brutally, sending waves of pleasure and pain straight to my clit.

Even as I squirmed and pleaded, and my mind railed against the horror, my body was responding to his onslaught, and I realized that he was going to make me cum, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“Mommy likes that, doesn’t she?” he said, but it wasn’t Jimmy’s voice, it was deep and guttural. He just wouldn’t stop, ramming into me like a jackhammer, his fingers a blur on my clit, while he tormented my nipples, forcing climax after climax out of me,

After what seemed like an eternity, I dimly registered that he was cumming inside me and felt a few moments of hope that my ordeal might be nearly over. But he didn’t get soft, he just kept going, if anything swelling even more.

My body adored it but my mind began to crack, finally giving itself over to the ecstasy, and I ended up limp as a dishrag, shuddering, his brutal thrusts the only thing stopping me from sliding to the floor.

When he finally relented, and just before I collapsed in a heap, I looked into the mirror behind the bath and his face was grotesque, distorted, and triumphant. It wasn’t my son’s eyes that looked back at me though, it was something malignant and utterly evil. Then the world just faded to gray.

I woke up cold and lying curled up on the bathroom floor. For a few seconds I was confused, then the memories of what had happened crashed over me and all I could think of was whether my son was alright. I grabbed a robe and pulled it on and then went to his room.