Author's Note: In this chapter, Laurie graphically keeps her promise to Jonathan, her love child, in the most surprising and eye-opening way. If you have not read the preceding chapters, it is recommended you do so before reading this one. Enjoy.
As always, much appreciation to Amela for her editing.
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In the beginning, I told myself that my incestuous love affair with my son would pass and be forgotten. He was just a young man sowing his wild oats as his biological father and my younger brother, Kenny, did with me when he was Jonathan's age. Idealistically, Jonathan would eventually grow tired of humping his frumpy mother; would discover younger and prettier girls more his age in college; and would enjoy the pleasure of youthful energetic sex. Then after several trysts and a couple of romances, he would eventually marry, and in doing so, relegate me, his mother, to just a uniquely perverse chapter of his life that was best hidden and forgotten.
Of course, I knew that this mess wasn't just my son's doing. It didn't help that I was a middle-aged woman who felt neglected and abused in a loveless marriage. I had to admit that when Jonathan first seduced me, I was in desperate need to be wanted and loved. Perhaps this is the reason why I gave in so easily and then reveled in having a wild and silly fling with a handsome and attentive young man - even if he happened to be my son.
Thank goodness I still had a shred of common sense and managed to secretly get on the pill after that first weekend with Jonathan. I kept this act a secret because I still wanted Bruce, my husband, to continue using his condoms when he decided to have one of his boom-boom sessions or marital rape of me. How I hated his bitter aftertaste in my mouth and the stink of his semen in my sex. A rubber nicely and conveniently contained Bruce's rancid spunk.
I also kept my contraceptive pills secret because I wanted contraceptive protection without overtly encouraging the amorous efforts of my son. However, the latter reasoning was wishful thinking. Jonathan was completely taken with me as demonstrated by his need to constantly embed his beautiful manhood in my readily available mouth and vagina.
For my part, my resistance to forbidden sex with my son crumbled as easily as it did when I entered into a similar sexual affair with my younger brother eighteen years ago. Despite Bruce and Andrew, my younger son by Bruce, being around, Jonathan had a knack of always finding the right opportunity for daring and vigorous sex. And, as always, I willingly allowed myself to be swept off my feet, literally and figuratively. This was apparent as I tutored my quick-learning son in an apprenticeship of incestuous love and sex in which the student quickly became the master.
It certainly helped that Jonathan was young and handsome, attentive with just the right amount of sexual dominance, and had a whopping big cock. Much to my shame, my son's humungous erection inflicted the right amount of wincing pain each time it struck my cervix and then brought exquisite passion when it continued to pass to the innermost depths of my womanhood. I don't know how Jonathan did it, but the most fantastic and exhausting orgasms nearly always resulted.
I would have surrendered to being Jonathan's wanton sex slave if it was not for my last bastion of virginity - the small clenched orifice between my generous buttocks.
Since Jonathan's announcement that he intended to sodomize me, I had maintained a sense of confidence (false, as it would ultimately prove out) that I could dissuade him from booty banging me. I based this sense of confidence on the fact that I had denied Kenny, my persistent younger brother and Jonathan's biological father, my last virginity all these years. And then there was Bruce who thought that sticking a finger up my behind would stimulate my anal desire. I somehow managed to successfully resist him each time he tried to bugger me.
