That first evening home with my husband Ryan was disconcerting, after spending the weekend with my son Mark, locked away in a hotel room. A struggle was taking place within my mind, racked with guilt for having not only slept with another man, but with my own son - our son, no less. When my husband and I had sex that Sunday night, I couldn't help but think of it as a form of penance, making up for the sin I had committed. But even though I knew I should feel more regret, a deeper sense of betrayal and guilt, as strange as it may seem, I didn't. The truth is, not only did I enjoy having sex with my son, but I also felt a greater bond with him, as a result. But I also felt no less love or devotion for Ryan. This is how I excused my actions, and the more often I repeated it, the more I came to believe it.
When Ryan was on top of me that night, I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms and legs around him, smiling as his wonderful cock filled me. My body was sore and tired, but I needed this. I needed him to take me; to remind me of what I had here at home and why I loved him so very much. And therein laid my problem: I was also sharing my body with another man, my son, but part of me felt as though there should be more guilt. And when there wasn't, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. I loved Mark, as much as his father, and I wanted to share my body with him, as well. That's the only reason I could think of for this lack of remorse and shame.
Monday morning, after Ryan had left for work, I stood in the shower staring down at the floor, my hands behind my back and the water spraying against me, running down over my neck and shoulders and cascading over my breasts. I tried to make myself feel guilty. I kept asking myself, how could I be doing this with him? How could I have so willingly taken my son's seed into my body, the body that gave birth to him? I closed my eyes and very soon a hand drifted between my legs, as my mind meandered back to that Friday night. I was on my hands and knees, when Mark came from behind and quietly slipped his cock into me. And the cause of my utter shock wasn't simply in knowing my son was fucking me, but also in that I found myself enjoying it. I remembered how I rocked back against him, begging him to fuck me harder and empty himself in my body. And I remember how wonderful it felt; the intense tingling between my legs and throbbing inside my vagina, as his beautiful cock exploded within. A wonderful euphoria filled my mind, as Mark took me.
When I finally stepped out of the shower, I quickly dried myself and walked to the bedroom and gazed at the bed, the bed I shared with my husband. Not here, I thought. So I turned and dashed upstairs to Mark's room. I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, locking it. Then I slowly walked over to his bed and dropped the towel from around my body and lay down. I pulled his pillow under my head and closed my eyes, bending my knees upward and out. And for the next half hour, I masturbated thinking of my new lover.
For the remainder of the day, I fought a losing battle. Every now and then, my mind would run out of control with thoughts of him, and I'd hurry to his room to relieve myself, quickly shedding myself of those lurid thoughts. But the more I did this, the more I wanted him; the more my mind wandered to thoughts of our weekend together and the anticipation of being with him once again.
For the next two days, I didn't get online. I was too afraid to talk to him. Thoughts of Mark were taking over, and I felt as though I couldn't get anything done, as a result. I didn't need or want to exacerbate the problem by talking to him. But I was like an addict, hooked on a drug that I once thought I could control, but which was now controlling me. I thought I could keep a handle on my desires; that I could control myself and keep them in check. And when I finally convinced myself I could, the phone rang.
"It's for you."
I was in the kitchen washing dishes, having just finished dinner with my husband and daughter, when Ryan called to me. I wiped my hands on a dishtowel and walked out to the living room. Ryan was sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper and holding the phone up in one hand. As I stepped around the couch, he looked up at me and I quietly asked whom it was. He smiled, replying it was Mark. I felt the blood suddenly rush from my face and pool in my feet.
"I'll, uh… take it in my study," I said.
Ryan grinned and nodded.
A minute later, I picked up the phone on my desk and, covering the mouthpiece, called out to the living room, letting him know I had it. I held the phone to my ear and heard a click, as Ryan hung up. My heart was pounding and I cleared my throat.
"You there?" he said.
"Yeah," I squeaked softly. "Right here."
There was a brief pause and he asked how I was. I glanced at my door and walked over, stretching the cord far, and gently used my foot to shut it.
"Um… fine. I'm fine. How're you?"
Mark chuckled. "I'm alright. You don't sound fine," he replied. "Haven't seen ya online. Just wondered if you were ok."
"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine. I'm ok. How're you doing?"
He laughed again. "Said I'm fine, ok?"
There was another pause, and then we both went to speak at the same time.
"Sorry, you go 'head," I said timidly.
"Nah, go on," he replied.
I smiled, turning to sit in my chair, and held the phone close to my ear with both hands.
"I'm ok," I whispered.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
We were both silent for a moment, and then Mark spoke.
"I miss you," he said softly.
I closed my eyes and gripped the phone tightly, wrapping the cord around my hand, as my heart began throbbing again. Then I sighed into the phone.
"You… are you mad?" he asked.
I smiled. "No," I said. "Not at all… I miss you, too."
Then I heard Mark breathing, the same sound I heard when he was on top of me not four days ago; the sound I came to cherish and desire. I bent over in my chair, breathing hard on my own.
"I really wanna see you again," he mumbled almost seductively.
I sucked in deeply through my nose and sighed.
"God, I wanna see you, too," I whispered.
We were both quiet and breathing hard, and, though separated by many miles, our hormones boiled to a fever pitch at just the sound of each other's voice.
"Fuck," he sighed. "I'm so hard for you right now."
I put a hand between my legs and closed my knees tightly, breathing heavily.
"… wish you were here," he mumbled softly.
I pressed a finger against my vagina and moaned.
"… you want me?" he asked.
My jaw hung open, as I envisioned him sitting in his chair at his desk, stroking his long hard cock for me; visions of my body dancing through his mind; visions of him fucking me.
"… yeah…" I stuttered.
"God, I'd love to slide my cock into you… cum inside that sexy body…"
"… Oh yeah," I sighed, scraping a finger between my legs against the fabric of my shorts, sending a gentle vibration to my vagina buried below.
