Chapter 4

I settled myself underneath Brandon, wet and ready to accept him. He still looked worried, though, and after a few fumbling attempts to enter me, he gave up, distraught. "Sorry, mum," he muttered. I favoured him with a smile, desperate to reassure him.

"Sorry for what, baby?"

He lay back down beside me, still hard. As I watched his cock intently, it bobbed around, indicating just how turned on he was by me. I ached to have him, wanted nothing more than for him to bury himself in me, make love to me. For that is what I knew he would do; he respected me, wanted to bring me pleasure, not pain; I was sure of it.

He sighed. "I'm not very good at this, am I?" He made a face. I hastened to his defence.

"On the contrary, sweetheart. You are very, very good at it. The best," I added as an afterthought, "I've ever had." Emboldened by my praise, his cock lurched again; my vagina twitched itself in anticipation, desperate to clamp down on my son's cock again. As if sensing my desperation, his hands removed to my body, working at my breasts and between my legs. I surrendered to him, signalling my arousal with soft moans and slowly writhing under his expert touch. My chest was becoming a deep red, burning with the blood that caused it to blush as I thrilled beneath my son's fingers.

He pleasured me for long moments, gathering his jumbled thoughts. "I haven't done ... this ... very often."

I teased him with a laugh. "I should hope not, young man. Unless something has gone awry, I am the only mother you've got."

The jibe worked perfectly, lancing his worries. I could feel the tension in his lean muscles fade away there beside me, and he redoubled his efforts. I shuddered, orgasming long and loud. My display was not entirely for his benefit; the sensations he elicited were my favourites, carefully learned after a lifetime's study of my own body and what made it respond, sensations that were heightened by the irreconcilable taboo. He waited for my ragged breathing to resume a normal rhythm before continuing.

"I, um ... I only had one girlfriend before. But she kinda freaked out when ... when she saw..."

I took over, making the most of the opportunity to inflate his ego. "When she saw how much of a man you were?"

He nodded, scarcely able to meet my gaze. I felt great empathy for him, was grieved that some young doe had hurt him so badly with her rejection. "Well," I said firmly, "I am not some little girl, to be sent screaming at the mere mention of boy germs."

He smiled uncertainly. I stepped it up a notch, sliding one hand down to my slick gash, gathering up my lubricant and smearing it around my fingers before reaching for that magnificent, iron-hard rod. I moved my hand slowly up and down its length, trying to return even a fraction of the stimulation he had given me. He moaned, expressing his appreciation and his need for me. I licked my lips, trembling in anticipation. Suddenly, a new idea occurred to me. I sat up, inching along the bed. Finally, I stood, crooking my finger to indicate he should follow. Puzzled, he did so. Turned away from him, got down on all fours, and presented myself to my son.

"Mum, that's-"

I interrupted him, shaking my rump at him, arching my back so that my engorged sex became more prominent still. "Where that arsehole tried to take me. I know. But this is my-" I stopped, correcting myself. "Our bedroom, now. And I want to make new memories. Besides, in a way we both him. If not for what he did, we never would have found out how each other felt."

I heard him kneel behind me, felt that plump and heated head of his prick against my gushing cleft. I longed to push back against him, impaling myself on his shaft, but I held back. As did he. My frustration mounted. "Well?" I demanded. "Come on, honey. I'm here for the taking."

I heard him gulp. "I ... I ... don't want to hurt you," he whispered. Oh, my love. I sat down, turned to face him.

"Are you afraid that's what will happen?" He nodded, hesitantly. I breathed deeply, jutting my chest out beneath his questing gaze. He was magnificent, his fully erect cock twitching with desire as he drank in the sight of me, naked and needy before him. I reached up, caressed his face. "Oh, baby. It's OK. That's why I trust you, you see?"

Confused, he shook his head. I crawled into his lap, rubbing myself against his hardness, making sure I left copious amounts of my secretions on the tip of his cock. "My love," I whispered. "Mine, to me." I sank down slightly, allowing him to slip ever so slightly inside my slick and heated channel. I panted, barely able to restrain myself. "You love me don't you?" Again he nodded. I slid lower onto him still, eliciting a groan of pleasure. I favoured him with a grin. "Good boys get good rewards. But what I mean is this, you care about me. You want to make it good, to bring me pleasure. Don't you?" I didn't wait for the answer I knew he would give. " And that's what I mean, sweetie. You're not some thick lump who takes what he wants and then rolls over and starts snoring. You don't want to fuck your mother, do you?"

I enjoyed the look on his face as he agonised over the right answer to that loaded question. "You want to make love to me. Isn't that right?" He nodded, his bright eyes curious. "That's why I know you won't hurt me. You can't. It's just not in you." With that, I rose up, spun about in place quickly, and dropped back onto all fours. He was on me in an instant, desperate to make good on his unspoken promise. I gasped as he entered me, stretching my tight cunt around the massive size of his cock. I was already at the verge of another orgasm, and I sensed that he would not come until or unless I had. I teased him by clenching my inner muscles around him, moving my hips up and down as he thrust slowly, carefully into me to vary the angle he took along my inner walls.

"Who am I?" I asked.

"My mother." He whispered back, entranced.

"And what are you doing to me?"

He paused. "I'm ... I'm making love to you," He waited for a beat before realising the tack I was taking, thrusting as deeply into me as he could before whispering, "Mum."

I shuddered, gasping as waves of pleasure radiated throughout me. "And what we're doing, what is the word for it?"

"Sex?" he hazarded, not quite getting it.

"Not that. What word do they use to describe it when a son screws his mother?"

His breathing became ragged, his thrusts lost their strict pacing. He jerked in and out of me seemingly at random, drawing out that one word I so desperately wanted to hear. "Incest," he moaned. I could feel his cock twitching, pulsing as he prepared to come. My inspiration complete, I pushed back against him as hard as I dared, forcing more and more of his endless length inside me. He grunted, and then I felt his come splashing against my heated, forbidden flesh. I abandoned myself, shivering as my own orgasm stole over me. He kept up his movements as I climaxed, extending the moment to what seemed like hours. Having spent himself inside me so violently, however, it was only a matter of time before he softened and slipped out of me. I whimpered, disappointed that the pleasure had ended. I felt him shift his weight behind me. I wondered what might be coming next, eager to see what moves he would try to make on me now.