[The following story is fictional, and all characters are of legal age.]
Looking back, I can't think of a happier time than when I was 18, those spring and summer months before I went to college, when my mother and I were lovers.
I think it was a beautiful relationship, our love as mother and son blossoming into the romance of a man and a woman. We couldn't keep our eyes off each other, we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves, and we were devoted to making each other happy.
After making love one night, we snuggled naked in each other's arms -- her head lying on my shoulder as her fingers absentmindedly caressed my chest, my arm squeezing her close so I could feel her tits press against me, our warm bodies lit by the soft glow of the lamp on her nightstand -- when she said my name and asked me a question.
"Do you have any fantasies?"
"You mean apart from making you my wife? Why do you ask, do YOU have any fantasies?"
"I guess I do," she replied. "You're an awfully sweet boy and a very considerate lover, but there are times when I wish you would just... I don't know... take me."
"Take you?"
"Yeah, like when Rhett was jealous and carried Scarlett up that long staircase. We all know what happened after that."
I thought for a minute. I couldn't reproduce that famous scene from my mom's favorite movie, but I know that I had that kind of animalistic desire for my mother. I had been keeping it in check because, after all, she was my mother.
"You want to see my lust for you, um, get out of control?" I asked.
"Yes," she answered, without hesitation. "Show me how much I drive you wild."
"Okay. I'd have to do it without any real advance notice, is that okay?"
She thought about the question, but only for a moment before looking up to stare in my eyes.
"Yes. Don't just make love to me, fuck me hard, ravish me, make me yours and
show me how much you need me."
My cock twitched at just the thought of it, pulling off my mother's clothes and unleashing all my desire for the beautiful woman in my arms, the loving woman who raised me.
My mind was reeling with the idea when my mom brought me back to earth.
"You never told me your fantasy."
"Oh, I guess I didn't."
My mind immediately fixated on one idea, one I could hardly articulate even knowing my mother's nearly perverse desire to be taken. I kept thinking back to how my fourth finger would always massage my mom's asshole while my third finger penetrated her pussy. We never talked about it, but she seemed to like it, and I wondered if her puckered hole would like even more attention.
"You have one," she said. "I can see it in your eyes. What is it?"
I hesitated: "I don't know if I should say it."
"You can tell me anything, I'm your mother -- and now I'm more."
"Well, okay. It's... It's..."
"Say it."
I blurted it out, hoping she wouldn't get mad at me.
"I want to have anal sex with you."