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.

I was surprised by his tenderness. I had half-expected him to try and jerk his cock back to life, but instead he manhandled me into his arms, sweeping me up from the floor. The gesture reminded me of the tradition wherein a newly married couple crossed the threshold into their first house together. I smiled at him, drew him into a savage kiss, and let him lay me down on the bed. E moved with precision, deliberately and carefully arranging me so that my head rested on my pillow. He leaned in, kissed my forehead, then vaulted gracefully over me, laying by my side.

His hands again roved over my body, circling around my overly-sensitive clitoris. I was too exhausted to orgasm again so soon, but it felt wonderful, and I made sure he knew it. We lay there for a while like that, enjoying unhurried intimacy.

"Mum," he began in a small voice. "Could I ask you something ... personal?"

I chuckled, rolling onto my side so I could read his troubled expression. I hooked my right foot behind my left knee and resettled his hand on my frothing sex, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. "Honey, you've just fucked me twice. I think we're OK with 'personal' now, don't you?"

He nodded. "I ... um ... I know it's weird," his words spilled out in a rush, "but do you have any pictures from when you were younger? From when..." He trailed off. I waited, smiling drowsily at him whilst he worked up the nerve to finish his request. It took him some time, not that I minded; I surrendered myself to the gentle stimulation of my privates, pressing my sex against his fingers as if to urge him on. He cleared his throat.

"From when you were pregnant. With me," he clarified unnecessarily. I giggled.

"What brings this on?" I asked, eager to know why my son might ask for such an odd thing. He blushed, looking downcast as he struggled to find the words he needed. I took mercy on him. "Because you want to see what I looked like when I was closer to your age?" He shook his head.

"I have this... thing about pregnant women. I..." He was lost for words. I favoured him with a grin, showing him that I understood. Well, not understood, not exactly, but that I wasn't put off by the request.

"Hmmm," I mused. "I'm sure they are around here somewhere. But I have a better idea, if you're up for it."

His eyes flickered with hope, and his fingers dug into me, very nearly painful as he grabbed at my most vulnerable flesh. But this, too, was all right; I wasn't into spankings or bondage, but a little pain always seasons pleasure, heightens the sensations I so craved.

"But there are going to be some rules. And you have to agree to them before I tell you anything else." He nodded swiftly, hanging on my every word. "First and foremost, we belong to each other from here on out."

He rolled his eyes. "Please, mum. Who else could compare to you? I'd have to be mad to go looking anywhere else." My heart thrilled to his frank admission, and I again grabbed his cock, stroking it lazily. He was young, and I hoped that the stimulation, combined with the proposal I was about to make, would have him randy for me again.

"That's nice, dear. Then rule number two; you must never speak of this to anyone. Ever. If you break those two rules..." I stopped moving my hand. No more sex, buddy. He nodded.

"I get it, mum. I promise."

I closed my eyes, dipped my head, and smiled. He was mine, and I was his. Forevermore.

I opened my eyes and met his gaze, holding it steadily as I worked at his cock. "Why," I drawled, "Would you want to look at pictures when you could have the real thing?"

His face scrunched up. I knew he would work it out soon, but I wanted him, wanted to take me again, here and now. "How would you like," I asked lightly "to make mummy pregnant?"

As I had expected- hoped!- his cock surged, rapidly filling with blood. I kept at it, stroking him until he was rock-hard in my hand. I sank onto my back, spreading my legs for my son. I whispered to him softly, trying to inflame his appetite for me further.

"This is the best position, baby. When you come in mummy like this," I waved a hand at my supine form- "your semen pools under my cervix. Gives it a helping hand, you know?"

He moved like lightning, rearing up above me and spearing into my depths. "Do it, baby," I cooed. "Fuck your mother. That's it. You're going to come in her cunt. That's not a question, is it?" He shook his head, red with his exertions and lust. "Fill me up." Another idea occurred, another spur I could use on him. "And I promise, sweetheart, if it's a little girl, you can have her when she grow up."

It worked. He surged into me; I cried out softly, making sure he knew it was from the pleasure of his penetration rather than pain. I kept sniping at him, daring him to seed me. Instead of being quick about it, he took his time; perhaps he was unable to orgasm as quickly as before due to his two recent climaxes; in any case, I revelled in it. He moved in and out at a seemingly random pace, as though determined to prevent me from growing used to it. He varied his depth, sometimes thrusting as far into me as he could go- and that still left a generous portion of his shaft outside me- sometimes stopping only a short distance inside my oozing gash. I came, and came, and came each time crying out beneath him. He was unrelenting, taking me higher and higher after each plateau until finally he stiffened, spraying deep within my most intimate well.

He collapsed beside me, breathing heavily. I smiled drowsily at him, fighting off my physical exhaustion and the hormones trigged by sex, both threatening to send me to sleep. "Oh, my. You're amazing." He smiled at me, too weak and breathless to offer anything more. "We'll have to practice, though." He struggled to protest, but I hastened to correct his misunderstanding. "Not like that, silly. I'm just not, you know, fertile at the moment. That will come..." I calculated dates rapidly in my head. I gave up, unable to focus. "Well, in a few days. But," I said triumphantly "that just gives you an opportunity to learn the ropes. The amount of come you spew out, I'm sure it won't take long to get me pregnant."

I kissed him, long and languorous, using my tongue to wrestle with his. "Besides, making the baby is always the fun part..."