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I remember everything, every sensation, the smell of our sweat which made our bodies glisten as we strained in passion. The feel his weight on top of me, driving me into the bed. The taste of his lips kissing mine, probing my mouth with his tongue. Most of all I was aware of his manhood inside me, stretching me, filling me until I almost couldn’t bear it. My vagina quivered with delight each and every time he thrust inside me.

All I could think about at first was this single burning thought in the back of my nearly overwhelmed mind:

Twenty years previous, the man who was now driving his penis deep inside my sacred chamber…Had been born out of it…

My name is Judith, my sin is only that I loved too little at the time when love was most needed, too much when love was no longer desired, and too sincerely when love was only wrong.

Many would wonder how any woman could end up in bed with her own son…It wasn’t easy, let me tell you. Pardon the jest, but I try to keep my sense of humor, even though this act of passion has ruined both our lives.

My secret, my own personal shame in life had always been that I had never truly enjoyed sex. While I had had my fair share of it in my lifetime, my very first orgasm in my twenty years of experience was when I pushed my son into this world after twelve agonizing hours of labor. My second, and most recent was when my son pushed his burning hot manhood into my body one final time as he climaxed, and forced me over the edge of my own pleasure threshold. It was something about the wrongness of our incest that made me overly sensitive.

My husband, God rest his soul had never been able to please me, it wouldn’t have surprised me to learn that he had never even tried in earnest. Screwing is what it had been when in the backseat of his car at the tender age of eighteen, my prom dress pulled up, my panties shoved aside. It lasted all of ten seconds, and I felt more annoyance than pain. Making love we called it in college when he would sneak into my dorm and drive me crazy for an hour with teasing, but had never quite managed to figure out the intricate workings of my specific needs. He always complained that if it was really that hard for a woman to orgasm, maybe it was truely a myth after all.

And you may wonder why I married him. Well, it would have been because of Adam, then unborn, sleeping in my belly, making me sick to my stomach, and sure that it was a baby I was carrying, and not a virus.

We never fucked, not even once; Harry was good for many reasons, and that was one of them. He was always gentle, even our first time, and never claimed the rite of Wifely Duties. He was taken from me just last year, while Adam was away for his first year of college, the cancer wasn’t slow enough for us to catch it in time, and even though I never particularly loved the man, I did mourn him for his due time.

My son had come to console me, cutting back some of his academic load to spend more time at home until I was back on my feet. It didn’t take me very long to do the last of my crying, and begin to find something to do with my time. Because Harry had been a smart man, and had planned ahead, I was left with more money than I would need for the rest of my life. So I could focus on myself, and finally seek out my own happiness.

The first thing I did was go shopping, for the first time in my life I would be buying something just for me, something secret, something that vibrates…

Within the hour I was home, eager at last to give myself the one thing Harry had never given me in twenty years, and I had only briefly experienced twenty years ago during the birth of my son. My orgasm didn’t happen the way I had intended, it would be an understatment to say that it was because of being disturbed.

Alone in my room, my clothing removed and folded neatly, I took a moment to examine myself in my mirror. I was a mother, a woman passing into her fifties, already I’d gone through the change. Ironically it had happened the very day Harry had been diagnosed, but I had survived him, and It…Now I was looking at my body, and what nature (with a little help from myself) had done. My skin was taken care of, I had always cleaned and exfoliated, scrubbed, and moisturized, I’d used the oils, and the creams, and just about everything I could find to keep it tight, smooth, and free of the signs of age. Age though had brought my breasts down, and given me a small tummy. My son of course had spread my hips, no slip of a girl was I these days, but by no means was I over the hill, or even run down. Yes, my body deserved more than just a casual viewing…

I lay down on my bed, opening my legs slowly, looking for the first time in years at my genitals. I hadn’t touched them in a sexual way since my teens, I’d been caught then, as I was going to be today, and had since avoided masturbation. Now I was working for myself again, not for a husband, or for a baby; (which I could never have again) But just for my own pleasure. My clitoris ached with protest when I coaxed it out of hiding, it was almost numb from neglect, but soon I got it warm again, very soon I could feel my juices beginning to flow, and I could smell my sex in the air.

The small dildo I purchased was still much larger than my husband’s penis, almost seven inches long, and thick enough to make me worry, where I hadn’t even worried during my first time, I wondered if I would tear something. Well, negative thoughts brushed swiftly aside, I carefully inserted it, with a sigh of pleasure, slipping it deeper inside, inch by precious inch, my unused fingers found my clit, and it was just a matter of minutes before I felt myself building for my first full orgasm…

“Mom?”

“What does this word mean?” My mind was saying to itself, it took me almost a full minute to open my eyes and realize that my son was standing in the doorway, watching me. Hear I was, totally shameless, naked as the day I was born, my legs open wide, one hand ramming a large red dildo into my vagina, the other furiously rubbing my clitoris. All of this stopped as soon as reality came crashing down. I threw myself over the side of the bed, hiding my nakedness, the dildo still buried in my throbbing orifice. He must have been in shock up to that moment, but he finally snapped out of it and reacted the way he should have at first, he averted his eyes, then left the room post haste.

I couldn’t help notice though that familiar bulge in his pants. Had he become aroused seeing me in that state? It was anyone’s guess, I myself wanted to pretend that I had imagined it, and that when I cleaned up, dressed, and went out of my room that he wouldn’t even be here, that he would still be out on his date. I was not so lucky…

I sat down beside him, and we both remained silent for what could have been hours, or moments, it didn’t matter, because we were both thinking the same thing, and knew that it was so wrong that it seemed to stop time itself.

“Do you understand what was going on?”

I asked softly, ashamed of myself already for leaving my door unlocked, and even more so for masturbating in the middle of the day.

“Yeah, I’m not a virgin or anything…It’s just, I sort of thought you were in mourning still.”

He was so innocent, he didn’t even know how far apart my husband and I had drifted.

“You’re father and I stopped making love over ten years ago, with him practically living out of his office, I’ve been alone, and I’ve really only had you to keep me company…Now you’re in college. I’ve mourned as long as I feel I should, and today I thought it was time for a change, time for me to do something for myself…You see, I’ve never actually had an orgasm.”

“Never?”

He asked, stunned by the simple fact, not so much that it was coming from his mother’s lips.

“Once…”

I said hesitantly, attempting to avoid the inevitable, to evade the embarassing truth, but could not. So I spilled the truth.

“When I gave birth to you, it was only for about five seconds, but from what I had read, I knew what it was.”

Needless to say he was both shocked, and a little flattered, as if being born had been something of a favor in my sexlife…If only he knew that I was already fantasizing about him. It must be the change I thought, the first week of it had needed to sit under the air conditioner for several hours of each day. I had had stranger cravings than when I had been expecting, and had thoughts I didn’t even know that I was capable of thinking.

“Are you imply something?”

He looked over at me with open, knowing eyes, and I only had to nod, and slip my hand into his.

It happened so fast, it’s a wonder I even remember any of it, but I do, I remember everything, his hands on me, his kisses, his probing fingers. I was still eager and moist from my interrupted session. When he was inside me I knew how wrong it was, how wrong, how horribly wrong and vile it was, but I wasn’t screaming for him to stop…I only wanted more.

And for the first time in twenty years, I got mine. From the strangest of places to be sure, but hey…

There’s a first time for everything.

I was in another place inside my mind. I was trying not to think about anything in particular, especially what was happening to me at this very moment. It wasn’t something I ever thought I would experience, it wasn’t something I had ever wanted to feel…But here it was.

Pain was first, excruciating pain, the kind that would have made me black out if not for my beautiful son’s sweet, soft whispers in my ear.

“I love you mom, I love you so much.”

And all the while my rectum was being stretched to its limit. This sensation was what brought me back to reality, and made it impossible for me to shut it out.

“I must be crazy,” I was thinking.

“I’m letting my son sodomize me.”

“I love it, God help me, it feels good.”

Aside from a muted whimper when he first slipped his lubricated, erect manhood into my virginal anus, I had remained silent. As his hips began to move against me at a faster rate, I began to huff, and then moan softly each time he filled me.

And finally, I received the reward for this pain, at first a subtle shivering of his burning flesh, then I felt him erupt his warm semen deep into my bowels, and I had the second sexual orgasm of my life. It still amazes me when I think back, that I was so sexually repressed that even something that felt painful and wrong could make me climax…Maybe it was the wrongness, maybe I could never get off with my husband because sex with him was so right.

I didn’t know much, I don’t even know if I blacked out after he withdrew from me. But suddenly I was somewhere else again. It was my youth that I was recalling, a memory I had long ago buried deep within, but I had always known on some level that it was the lock which had kept my sexuality prisoner for the whole of my life.

I shall spare the casual reader the details which need not be mentioned, save that I was young, and naive. It was something all young girls eventually did, all my friends did it, and it was from them that I had learned how to do it. So I chose a time when I believed I would have total privacy, and for the first time began to explore my body in a sexual manner. It had been the first, and the last until just the other day. It had not taken very much time, after which I had been taut, and very near the culmination of this act, which in my mind, was forbidden. Then I was discovered. I cannot even remember who it was that found me, but I know that from then on, I was going to keep such feelings far from me, so I would never be embarrassed again. I had succeeded for almost forty years, but my son had finally unlocked me, and I felt like that young girl again.

Adventurous like you wouldn’t believe.

I woke up sometime later. I rose from bed, and went to the bathroom, I mopped up some semen and lubricant which had seeped out of me, then I took a shower. My son joined me, and we made love again, with passionate urgency this time. First I took him into my mouth, then into my vagina, he had me pinned against the wall, one leg up around his waist, thrusting deeper and harder than he had during our first time. It was good for him, though not enough, so for his climax, I let him bend me over the side of the tub, so he could once more empty his milky fluid into my rectum.

To say that we didn’t speak would be right on the money. We hadn’t said a word to each other since that first day. We’d just behaved like two rabbits, me in heat, and him in the deepest lust a man could feel for a woman. The time would come though when we would have our conversation, The Big Conversation, and in my romantic mind, that would settle everything, and our lives would be forever happy and free of woe.

In retrospect I can see how being what some ignorant men called “frigid” had been a good thing. Now I was a sex hungry vixen. Passing my fiftieth year alive, I should have been smarter; but I had abandoned every notion of reason, every experience I’d ever had that had taught me anything was gone in a flash, and gone for good it would seem. I didn’t realize what I was doing, or that it would all come crashing down on me, and that Adam would suffer worst of all from it.

I was in for a rude awakening…

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A mother discovers much about herself, 4.4 out of 10 based on 5 ratings