My name is Rebecca and I am 34 years old and I have a story to tell.
I was the only child of small town parents whose names I cannot bring myself to say. My father was an accounts clerk for the large major employer in town. This company was owned by another family whose name I refuse to even let pass my lips.
They were ‘old money’, privileged and thought the whole world was theirs by right. My father was a subservient little man who thought likewise and saw his role as being slavish to ‘his betters’.
I was sixteen on the fateful day which would forever change my life. My parents were beside themselves with foolish pride as they prepared me for a date at a concert. I was young but they had decided that it would be ok for me to go with him, as his family were rich – therefore respectable.
I was going with the son of the mill owner.
Oh how they had boasted at the club when he asked me.
The evenings proceedings are irrelevant, the whole point of this story revolves around what happened at the end of the night.
I felt a little dizzy and a little woozy as my date led me to his car. I couldn’t understand why, as I had drank very little.
The upshot of all this was waking up in the woods in his car. He was outside in the dark smoking a cigarette when I came to. I was confused and disorientated but as my head slowly cleared, it became obvious that my clothing had been tampered with.
That was the least of my worries.
As I moved I felt the wetness between my legs, shakily I felt myself.
I was sodden in my panties and when I removed my hand from myself I looked at my fingers.
They were covered in blood and a white sticky substance.
I had been raped.
Under the influence of alcohol or drugs or whatever he had given me, he had violated my body. I started to scream at him and tried to hit him with my fists. He very arrogantly just held my wrists and laughed at me.
On my arrival home, I ran to my parents crying hysterically and blubbering out all that had happened. The rich boy stood by his car, arrogant and unworried as though he was untouchable and above the law. When my father (respectfully) demanded to know from him what had happened, he told my father that we had had sex and that I had begged him for it.
My father, being a miserable, pathetic and subservient man, who thought the rich family to be his betters, believed him. That night he told me that I had shamed him because ‘people like them wouldn’t possibly lie.’
My pregnancy changed things – for the worse. People now thought me a little slut who had got herself knocked-up because she couldn’t keep her legs together. No one would believe me, even my parents still thought me to be a tramp.
A few weeks later my parents disowned me, threw me out and I found myself in a hostel for unmarried mothers.
My reputation followed me where ever I went. My rapist’s family, in a desperate bid to protect their son, used power, money and influence to besmirch me and blacken my name.
In the hostel I made no friends except one girl who was in the same boat as I was.
Nine months after my rape I gave birth to a beautiful little boy who I named Tom.
Due to my position and condition, I had to put myself at the mercy of the welfare. They placed me in a low-rent shit hole on the worst estate that you can imagine. My life took no turn for the better, as even the local scum looked down on me and assumed my unmarried status showed me to be a dirty slut.
For years I struggled to make my way on my own. I had a friend now and she would look after Tom for me while I did evening work and tried to make ends meet. All I could ever get for employment was minimum wage drudgery, as everyone who ever interviewed me for a decent job, shunned me – as the immoral unmarried mother.
The only attention I ever received from men was the worst kind. They all simply expected me to sleep with them at the drop of a hat, because I was a slut.
The irony of all this terrible reputation that I endured, was that I actually considered myself a virgin. I had neither deliberately nor consciously given myself to a man, the only evidence of such had been between my legs all that time ago and my baby boy sat on my knee now.
Throughout the next few years I determined to keep my self respect even though I received none from anyone else. I kept my dignity and brought my child up clean, tidy and respectable. Tom was taught right from wrong and was a studious and respectable pupil at school. However even Tom was shunned by his peers as the bastard son of ‘Rebecca the slut’.
Although Tom and myself were both attractive in both face and body, no one wanted anything to do with us for fear of peer pressure. I am sure that both of us would have attracted plenty of attention from the opposite sex had it not been for ‘our’ reputation.
Some days I would be stoic and think to hell with everyone else but some days I was desperately sad, not just for myself but for what my innocent son was being forced to endure because of me.
Then suddenly one day our lives changed, I won the lottery.
Don’t get me wrong this wasn’t hundreds of millions but it was tens of thousands and I meant to use the money wisely.
Suddenly I could now afford a higher bond on a rental property and I could afford the higher rent on a nicer house in a better area. My son was now eighteen and was hoping to go to university. We moved town and house but the old problem now had a different context, we had both become so insular and didn’t mix, that now we found ourselves alone even still.
I struggled to make new friends and found that I was still unhappy. I may have had a little money to ease the pressure on me, yet I was terribly lonely.
One day Tom came home with a few cuts and bruises on his face. When I asked him what had happened he didn’t want to tell me but I eventually squeezed enough out of him to get the gist of it. He had been fighting a boy to defend my reputation, I needn’t say more!
It was all too much, my life ruined by a rapist, the loneliness and unhappiness terrible but yet even worse, now my son was having his life destroyed by the same thing.
I cried and cried and cried.
I found myself stood in the kitchen in my son’s arms, the crying had stopped and I dabbed at my eyes. At that point I had never needed a man so much in my life. Oh how I desperately wanted a man to hold me, to feel the warmth and security and to revel in the glow of mutual love and attraction.
I raised my head and looked into Tom’s eyes,
“Don’t worry mum, he said, I love you more than you can ever know.”
With that he bent his head and kissed me incredibly softly on the lips. It was just one peck but it lingered maybe one second longer than you would expect such a kiss to last. Still gazing into my upturned face and holding my eyes with his, he slowly bent again and kissed me again.
My heart was doing somersaults and by the third time he ever so lightly brushed my expectant lips with his, I was going under fast.
The fourth little peck that he gave me simply turned into one long kiss. I knew this was so very, very wrong, yet I needed Tom, I needed his love, I needed his affection and I so desperately needed his lips on mine.
I needed a man.
I had never felt what it was like to be held and caressed by a man. I was a young woman still and I knew I had a very attractive face and figure, yet as I said before, in my own eyes I was still a virgin. I know you will think that to be nonsense as the very presence of my son made that impossible but I truly believed myself to morally be still a virgin.
My son and I held each other and kissed for what seemed like a lifetime, until I eventually broke away. Nervous, embarrassed and very afraid, I straightened my hair and I stammered,
“Oh thanks Tom my love, I just needed someone to hold me,” I said as nonchalantly as possible, acting as though nothing had happened.
But something had happened and after Tom made his way to his bedroom, his brain in a confused and muddled mess, I sat and thought…
Sometime later I knocked on my son’s bedroom door.
“What is it mum?” He asked.
“Can I come in darling,” I said.
“Yeah sure mum, come in,” was the reply.
I entered his bedroom and stood a few feet from his bed. No words were spoken, as my shaking, trembling and very frightened fingers pulled apart the belt around my robe. I shrugged it from my shoulders and it fell to the floor with a loud ‘flump’.
I stood naked before my son.
“Oh Jeez mum,” Tom whispered, his eyes glued to my naked body. I watched as his eyes roamed over my breasts and lowered themselves to the junction of my legs.
“Please baby,” was all I managed to say.
Tom slid from the bed and approached me, then he unexpectedly took my hand and led my out of the room. The short walk from his room, across the landing and into my bedroom, was incredibly exciting and symbolic. Being naked and my son still being fully dressed, somehow made me feel extra naked and exposed.
Tom led me to my own bed and sat down. I stood naked before him and moved to stand between his legs. I bent to kiss him, my breasts swinging forward provocatively, my son cupping them in his hands.
It was the first time that I had ever felt a man’s hands on my body. I shivered involuntarily at his touch.
After kissing again, I stood upright which left my breasts pointing straight at Tom’s face. I have hard, high and proud breasts still and I watched rapt as my son leant forward and flicked one of my hard erect nipples with his tongue.
A quiet gasp escaped my lips.
Tom delicately sucked each pink throbbing bud into his mouth in turn, whilst gently squeezing the rest of my breast in his hand.
My head went back involuntarily and I closed my eyes and simply felt the wonderful suction and caress on my nipples.
Yet I also wanted to watch, so I forced myself to look down again at my child who had nursed and fed on those breasts so long ago, now returned to them to arouse me sexually.
Tom stood and I instinctively climbed onto the bed. I lay back and watched as my boy bared his body to me. His penis looked quite big as it arched away from his body but being in the confines of his trousers, it had not been able to fully erect itself.
Now free of any constraint, I watched terrified as the long, thick, meaty shaft swelled. It slowly lengthened and straightened, his foreskin slowly peeling back unaided, as his erection became full, the big mushroom head turning a dark purple as it engorged with blood.
Tom climbed onto the bed and knelt at my feet. Slowly I took the next step towards the terrible taboo that was fast approaching. I opened my legs and let my knees fall apart exposing my vagina to my son.
I was sodden, the lips glistening with my excitement and the shame.
Tom lowered himself between my legs and propped himself on his arms. There was to be no foreplay and no delay. I felt the huge crown of his penis touch me and I stiffened in fear. I then felt the touch again as it pressed into me a little harder and I felt the lips of my vagina being spread slightly. As my son eased himself into my tight opening, he stopped and just played the big bulbous head of his penis between my lips and the tight ring of my sex. He just opened me a little then eased back, only to return a moment later to tease my quivering, frightened vagina again.
It was starting to tease me and drive me crazy, I wanted my son to slide into me fully. My vagina was trying to clench on him, my quivering and expectant walls trembling in anticipation for his long thick rod.
Then at last, my son pushed slowly but steadily into me and I felt myself open to him. My insides were stretched apart and I felt every inch of him slide along my trembling pink walls.
After inch by beautiful inch, he was inside me.
I had just given my virginity (I know, I know) to my own son.
For the first time in my life I had felt a man’s penis enter me and it belonged to my son.
The next few minutes were the most wonderful in my life. As my son slowly eased in and out of me I felt my whole body responding. The build up to orgasm came quickly due to the incredible intensity of the situation. I looked at Tom, the poor boy was hanging on for dear life, the magnitude of the illicit moment being too intense for him also. Even as inexperienced as I was, I still knew he was already trying not to cum, I knew that he loved me and he was doing it for me.
Suddenly the orgasm struck and it gave me very little warning.
The physical mixture of the ‘first’ penis inside me, the wonderful sensation it gave me and the feeling of being full and stretched, was quite simply stunning. Yet combined with the incredibly arousing mental situation, that it was my own son taking (my virginity) me, the embarrassment, the shame and the fear, made such a heady and exciting cocktail, that when my climax burst through me, it left me gasping, writhing and screaming underneath my son. It was the most unbelievable feeling that I could never have imagined prior to that fateful day.
“Mum, I’m going to cum, I can’t hold on” Tom gasped.
“Oh yes darling please, please cum inside me, I want your semen inside my body,” I begged.
My son stiffened, pushed himself as far into me as he could possibly go and held himself still. All I could feel was his beautiful penis twitching and jerking inside me and all I could here were tiny little gasps of,
“Oh mum.”
Tom lay on top of me whilst we recovered from the mind blowing experience. He slowly pulled his flaccid, yet still long length from me. I had no idea how long it would take for his semen to leak from me, so I was quite surprised when his penis was immediately followed out of me by a river of brilliant white, thick and virile semen.
I jumped up and very un-lady like, I scuttled across the bedroom with my hand between my legs to the bathroom. I deliberately left the door wide open, so that my son could watch his mother letting his cum flow from her vagina into the toilet. I then stood and made sure that he was watching, as I balled up some toilet paper and squatted slightly to clean myself between my legs.
Don’t ask me why I thought doing this was important – I just sensed that if I ran away for privacy now, that it would somehow cheapen what we had done. To this aim when I came from the bathroom I deliberately took my time getting back to the bed. I wanted Tom to look at my nakedness, I stopped halfway across the room to try and make my nudity in front of him normal and not seedy.
We lay in each others arm, me with my head on his chest whilst he toyed with my hair.
We didn’t speak.
Eventually Tom said rather nervously,
“Mum, do you think?… I mean…, would it be ok?…can you?… you know…”
“What darling? Just say it baby,” I said.
“Do you think that we could do it again?” he asked sheepishly.
“Oh Tom sweetheart, of course we can,” I replied, seeing his eyes light up when he realized the potential that my answer suggested.
We both realised something different but as equally important at that moment. Tom realised that this was not simply a one-off, it was not just one crazy moment. He knew at that point that we would make love again (and again and again?)
I also realised that the life changing incident was destined to repeat itself. A one-off aberration, a moment of weakness, a crazy stupid moment in life, could possibly be excused or explained away as an extraordinary insanity in the heat of the moment.
To make love with my son a second time took away any chance of rationalising what we had done as a moment of weakness.
I wanted not just a man inside me again – I specifically wanted Tom my son to be inside me again.
Just as the first time, the love making was pure and simple. His eager and throbbing erection needed no stimulation and for the second time I simply lay back and opened my legs to my son. This time it was slow and tender, the eager passion already pumped into my hidden depths by him had gone.
I felt his big penis slide into me and take me to heaven and back, unhurried, carefully and tenderly.
We came together professing our love for each other.
That night I slept naked in my son’s arms. I felt a warm, contented and satisfied woman, with the first piece of true happiness that she had ever known.
The next morning I was again afraid that in the cold light of day what we had done would feel sordid, tacky and cheap. I wanted Tom to feel at ease around me, so after showering I made a deliberate point of remaining naked in front of him for as long as I could.
It was surreal, to sit at my dressing table naked, my quite large yet still hard and proud breasts swaying when I moved, whilst Tom made no pretence or offered no apology for watching me transfixed.
I turned to face him and picked up my panties. As I slid them up my thighs and reached the black curly triangle between my legs, I hesitated and playfully teased him for one more moment before pulling the lace over my mound and hiding it from him. The coquettish act giving him yet another erection, which unfortunately we had no time to cure.
Throughout the day I was in turmoil. I was nervous, excited, turned on, horny and damn wet, yet I was also scared, frightened and afraid of what I had done and what the consequences could be. When I realised just how dangerous the situation was I made a decision.
Before I put the rules into place that I had decided upon, I wanted Tom once more.
That evening after eating and doing the dishes Tom went to his room to study. I gave him plenty of time, then turning off the TV and the lights I followed him up.
I knocked and entered his bedroom, he had finished studying and was getting ready to come to my bed. I stood in his arms by his bed and we kissed. It was incredibly strange to kiss him, yes we had made love, yet kissing your own son in this manner was surreal.
“Mum?”
“What darling,”
“Will you suck my cock?”
I was shocked and stunned.
Just as making love a second time had ‘sealed the deal’ so to speak, then performing oral sex on my son would propel things even further. The request shocked me.
I was also shocked at the language he had used. In my life without sex and without a man, my terminology had stayed quite juvenile. My breasts, vagina, his penis, had all been the words I had used in my thoughts as things were happening. Now my son wanted me to suck his cock and the breathtakingly provocative idea, thrilled and excited me with the illicit immorality of the act.
“I will do anything for you.” I said, trying to hide my own sudden rush of passion in my mind and between my legs. The excitement, with the knowledge of the act I was about to perform, was a huge turn on.
This was again met with a look of wonderment in his eyes as he realised that his mother was going to suck him off.
I slid to my knees before him, dragging his sweat pants down as I went. I was on my knees in front of my own son, his large cock just inches from my expectant lips. I leant forward and kissed the head of his cock before taking him in my hand and slowly sliding my hot mouth over his helmet. Tom groaned as I slid his huge rock hard organ further into my mouth until I could take no more. As I sucked his throbbing crown and licked up along the wonderful shaft, Tom spoke again, quite confidently.
“Mum, suck my balls and look at me while you are doing it,” he ordered.
A thrilling shock ran through me at his command and I lowered myself further to take one of his balls into my mouth. As I rolled it around inside and swirled my tongue around it, I never took my eyes off his. Alternating between taking his testicles in my mouth and moving up to engulf his cock with my lips I worked on my son.
After a long time teasing his thick pulsating meat, Tom’s breathing was beginning to get shallow and more like panting, his legs had begun to tremble and I knew he was getting close.
“Mum, can I come in your mouth please?” he asked.
“Of course darling,” I replied and whilst pursing my lips and exaggeratedly kissing the tip of his cock, I gave him what I hoped would be a shy, coy, teasing and coquettish ‘little girl’ look.
As Tom began to gasp,
“Oh yes, oh god, oh fuck mum, I am going to cum” I held him firm in my mouth and teased him to the final flourish. As Tom began to spurt his hot potent semen into my mouth he shook me to the core.
“Mummy.” he whispered.
I nearly came on the spot. Tom had not addressed me as mummy since he was a little boy, and the timing of him using the name in the situation that we were in, brought the whole concept of what we were doing into my consciousness.
I was on my knees as my son filled my mouth with jet after jet of sticky young cum. It filled my mouth, it hit my throat and it lay across my tongue in huge cables. There was a gallon of the stuff and to my amazement, my first ever taste of a boys cum was surprisingly pleasant. I kept my son’s semen in my mouth while I tasted it and got used to the texture. I also held his cum in my mouth because it made me feel like a woman, I was finally getting to do all the things that women enjoyed and I wanted to savour and prolong the moment that I had cum in my mouth for the first time.
“Mummy.”
The word and all its innuendo, symbolism, implication and significance would not leave my mind.
As Tom helped me to my feet and stared into my eyes he whispered,
“I love you mum,”
“And I love you too Tom,” I replied.
“No mum you don’t understand, he said, I am in-love with you,”
“Like I said Tom, I replied again, and I am in-love with you too.”
“Please Rebecca, he said shocking me by using my name, I want to kiss and lick your pussy.”
I was unsure what shocked me most, calling me by my name, the language that he had used, or the suggestion of what he wanted to do to me. However I was sure of one thing,
“Don’t call me by my name baby, I am your mummy and I always will be.” I told him.
I climbed on the bed, lay back and like a cheap slut I opened my legs to him. Tom slid down and stopped, his face and hot breath mere inches from my vagina. Other people would consider oral sex to be playing around and having intercourse to be the major step. I was finding it all the opposite way round. Kissing my son was tremendously intimate and personal, sucking his cock had been an illicit thrill.
Now as Tom touched me and examined me, running his fingers over my outer lips, then grazing his fingertips across the wet sensitive folds that protected my inner, intimate place, I found it incredibly intimate and arousing. I also found it, surprisingly, a little embarrassing, for my own son to see me so close up and to examine me like he was.
I had opened my legs and let him enter me, yet this was somehow so much more intimate and profound.
Tom kissed me and tasted his mummy’s pussy for the first time. We simultaneously took a deep breath and sighed. My son licked and caressed and stimulated my vagina and clitoris incredibly tenderly, he brought me slowly to the boil. Sucking my tiny lips, stretching them and drawing them between his tormenting lips and gently sucking my clitoris into his mouth whilst flicking the hard trembling button, I came in his mouth.
As my head rocked from side to side and my body arched up from the bed thrusting my desperate convulsing pussy against his tormenting tongue, I came. Screaming and begging him not to stop, calling his name and crying with pleasure, I had an incredible climax given to me by my son.
Yet again after a period of rest, Tom and I made love before sleeping in each others arms.
Much to Tom’s despair I put into place the decision I had made.
I became his mother again.
I deliberately talked to him and treated him as my son. I would berate him for not tidying his room, I would tell him off for leaving things lying around and generally be his proper mother again. For the next few days I avoided sexual relations and situations with my son. I went to bed and locked my door which drove him insane with frustration and desire. I knew how he felt, the outside world was locked out and two people who were in love with each other were on opposite sides of the wall. Why couldn’t we be together all the time and not waste a single precious moment of life in separation.
There were different reasons for me keeping our relationship on a mother and son basis.
I was not yet ready to be ‘his woman’ he was still my son and I had to have his best interests at heart and not concentrate on my own hedonistic needs. I was also worried that the more ‘normal’ we became around each other, we could one day possibly make an absentminded gesture towards each other in public, an ill considered pat on the bum for example, which could lead to our downfall and our destruction.
The third reason was a very worrying and disturbing one. As my son and I had become lovers there was one thing that became clear to me, I didn’t want my son to be my husband, my man or my lover, that was why I didn’t want to be called Rebecca by him. I realised with consternation that I wanted and needed the sexual activity and love making we indulged in, to be incestuous.
I wanted to keep the mother and son relationship because it was the fact that it was Tom, that it was my son, that it was incest, that turned me on so much.
I wanted to be mummy having illicit sex with her son.
This was evident none more so than the day I found myself in his room. I must be truthful, I had gone to seek him out simply because I needed him to fuck me (my vocabulary was changing all the time) I was wet and horny and I wanted his big cock. I simply lie back on his bed, spread my legs and invited him into me. As Tom took me I was suddenly struck with an amazing sensation. Here I was in my son’s room as he fucked me, yet it was the surroundings and their implication which I found were turning me on.
There all around me, were the trappings of a young boy’s room. I was making love to my own son underneath all the posters of football teams, rock bands and celebrity women. The room was untidy and had clothes strewn around the floor and there was a heady smell, which seemed to be a mixture of stale sweat (and semen?) It was just like I imagined a boy’s locker room to be and the fantasy took hold of me.
When my son fucked me to orgasm in that environment, it was a raw, dirty and lustful climax pounded into me by my rutting and grunting son. In the aftermath of the sex, I needed to empty and clean myself and I had to go back to my bathroom. Standing to leave, I still felt the raw dirty sensation that being fucked in a young boys room was giving me and I walked deliberately slowly across the landing and into my own room, so that the cum had ample time to spill from my gaping, freshly fucked pussy and run down my legs.
It was the first time in my life that I had experienced the feeling of being turned on by being raw, sordid, filthy and dirty. I felt nasty and damn sexy.
I would soon be Tom’s birthday and I had a plan to make it as wonderful for him as I could.
As I had tidied his room one day I found a few girlie mags. I was hurt at first and thought,
“Am I not good enough for him?” but I soon realised it was just the habits of a horny young boy, but I did give me my idea.
I booked a hotel and train tickets to London, I was going to have a weekend city break with Tom for his nineteenth birthday and I went shopping for a new outfit (or two).
On arriving in the city, I waited until everyone else from the train had dispersed and we were alone before I said to Tom.
“Ok darling, you want me as your woman, you want to be able to be with me openly and not have me push you away.”
I hesitated for a while as the implication slowly spread across his face.
“For this weekend I am Becky your girl. You can have me anytime you please and in any way you please. Tom’s face was a picture when I continued. I am your birthday present darling and for the next three days I am yours full time.”
Tom looked just about to burst with happiness,
“Oh Becky you have no idea how much in love with you I am and what you have just said, makes me the happiest man in the world.” he said beaming.
“Then kiss me Tom,” I said.
The very idea, that we could stand and openly kiss, hit home with him and he took me in his arms and kissed me more gently and tenderly than he had ever done before. Hand in hand, (sex not an issue) we had the most wonderful day together by simply being together. We were in love and had no reason to hide it. We were like two teenagers who couldn’t bear for an inch of space to separate us.
That night I had a decision to make.
I had planned this weekend for my beautiful son for some time, yet I wasn’t 100% on how to play it. I had a choice to make, I could either put on my stockings and suspenders in private, then tease him with flashes of my stocking tops all evening and drive him insane with excitement, imagining how I looked underneath, or I could very provocatively dress before him and leave him in no doubt how his mummy was dressed and what he had to look forward to.
I decided on the latter and after making love with my son and sleeping for a while it was time to get ready for out evening out.
I had bought tickets to a concert for a band that Tom liked (an evening at the theatre would have been my choice but this was not about me) and after both showering I waited for him to come from the bathroom for his torture.
After seeing what he obviously liked, based on his girlie mags, I had been to a store and bought his present for this evening but that wasn’t to be the only gift that I had ready for him.
I came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me and stood in front of my son. Slowly opening and then dropping the towel I stood naked before him. His face was a picture as he stared between my legs at my totally smooth waxed pussy. All the girls in his magazines had been shaved and I wanted to give him a present. Not only had I shaved myself but I had waxed myself completely so that I was totally hairless and totally smooth.
Tom stared at the cleft that my slightly puffy lips produced. The raised mound as it ran from my flat stomach to disappear between my legs was exposed completely.
“Oh Rebecca, he croaked, you look absolutely beautiful.” he praised me.
Tom recovered his composure and continued to dry himself as I quite nonchalantly laid out my clothes on the bed.
Tom was suddenly transfixed again. I picked up my black garter belt and fastened it around my waist. I may have been inexperienced myself but Tom was just stunned into silence. I made a great play of putting on my stockings. I first drew them over my feet then worked the nylon up my calves and thighs. I was shaking like a leaf, yet I didn’t want my son to know it, as I clasped my suspender straps to my stockings. I played it as cool as I could, all the time knowing that not only was my son being driven into a frenzy but I was also finding this dressing charade incredibly erotic.
I pulled on my tiny black panties and slid them up my legs, I paused in a playful tease just beneath my vagina then to let Tom see me for one last moment before pulling the skimpy material over my smooth mound.
I didn’t really need a bra as I am only 34 years old and my breasts are still hard, high, and they jut out very perkily, however my ‘ensemble’ looked better with one, so I fastened the half cup bra around my breasts marvelling at the wonderful cleavage it produced.
Last but certainly not least, I put on the 4 inch heels that I had bought.
Hesitating to torment Tom even further, I walked around the room in my lingerie. I finished dressing and pulled my ‘little black number’ over my head which finally covered me and hid me from my sons gaze. I tried desperately to make all my movements natural, as though nothing was out of the ordinary in any way.
I had tried on my ‘ensemble’ earlier and at the risk of being conceited, I knew how I looked, I knew what my son had seen and for the first time in my life I felt desirable, I felt sexy and I thought I looked damn good.
Tom was mesmerised and looked a total dork when I took his hand and said,
“Ok darling, shall we go now.”
That evening I did my utmost to make my beloved son’s birthday perfect for him. I had allsorts of ideas in my head about what I thought he would like to do for entertainment after the gig.
They were all irrelevant, my beautiful son had everything he ever wanted. He had his mummy, who he was so desperately in love with, on his arm for the world to see. He knew that she was dressed underneath her dress, in the very manner that he had always fantasized about and he knew that he and mummy would return to their hotel and make love for the entire night.
That night when we returned hand in hand to our hotel I was beginning to have doubts about my approach to our relationship. I was head over heels in love with my son and I had begun to waver in my resolve to keep him at arms length and attempt to retain some form of normalcy to our life.
Tom had called me either Rebecca or Becky for the whole evening and I found it to be incredibly personal and sexy for my son to do this.
I can’t explain to you how happy and blissfully in love I felt as we enjoyed our evening together and how I somehow simply knew that our nights love making was going to be at a whole new level.
For the whole evening I had subtly crossed my legs and shown my son my stocking tops and garter straps. I had deliberately tried to tease him to distraction. Now in our hotel room, as he slowly peeled my dress from my body, I had to wonder just who I had been teasing and turning on. My pussy was literally dripping, as a night spent trying to allure, captivate and bewitch my young boy had turned itself on it’s head. I was aroused by the whole situation, my boy, my dress, my actions, my thoughts, were all driving me insane.
I had planned to entice, provoke, tantalize and seduce my son and all I had achieved was to do these things to myself.
As Tom peeled my dress over my head leaving me in black stockings, garter belt, bra and heels, he just stood and looked mesmerized.
“It’s all for you baby, I said, I just want to make you happy and be your girl.”
My world then turned on its head.
“Rebecca I love you more than words can say, I can’t live without you, Tom said, his voice breaking with emotion. I want to marry you, I want to be together and I want you to have my baby.”
Every bit of my resolve, my maturity and my common sense were destroyed in the time it took my son to say those words.
Too frightened to speak for what I might say, I avoided having to respond by sliding to my knees before him.
Tom was naked in seconds and I reached for his gorgeous big dick. I don’t know if he could tell but my hand was trembling as I encircled his rampant cock in my tiny fingers. I kissed the hard throbbing length that had given me so much pleasure and slid my mouth over the bulbous purple crown.
If you have ever seen porn clips where a woman ‘worships’ a cock, then you will know how I sucked my boy. Slowly, purring in my throat with pleasure, I fellated Tom like I had never done before. Like my life depended on it, I worshipped and made love to his cock with my mouth, consumed with both love and passion for both Tom and his rigid penis.
Before I could entice his cum from his balls and into my eager willing mouth, Tom stopped me.
“I want to make love to you and I want us to cum together,” he whispered.
I climbed onto the bed and without being directed I just instinctively knew how I wanted him. I turned over onto my hands and knees, then lowering my face to the sheets and spreading my legs I readied myself for him.
In this position I could look to the side and see the whole bed in the mirror. I watched as Tom shuffled up behind me never taking his eyes from my smooth swollen pussy lips that were flowering open for him.
I nearly came the moment his huge cock touched my intimate lips and as I felt them spread under the pressure of his rampant dick, the pleasure was almost too much.
But I had to hold myself back for him to cum with me.
His long and thick cock continued its journey inside me until I could feel his body touching my bare pussy, he was buried totally inside me, and it was heaven.
I watched in the mirror as Tom alternated his view. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to gaze at his cock buried in his mummy’s pussy or whether he wanted to look in the mirror and see the whole scene in reflection. I was amazed to be able to watch a man taking me like this, I could see my garter straps stretching around the swell of my hips and bum, I could see my stocking clad legs spread obscenely to try and get more of Tom’s cock into me, I could see my slutty heels, I could see Tom and most of all, I could see the huge rod of meat that joined us together as it slid gently and tenderly in and out of me.
My darling son got his wish.
He began to gasp and groan, I now knew the signs my boy gave when he was starting to cum.
Looking at my son and I in the mirror and feeling the hyper sensitive walls of my vagina as they gripped his shaft as it violated me, was stunning. My clitoris being pulled and pushed feeling like his cock was forcing it inside of me, then dragging it back out again, I let myself go.
The most tremendous orgasm burst through me like a tornado and as I bucked, writhed and screamed his name, Tom emptied himself into me. I swear he came so hard and so much that I could feel the hot blasts as they splashed onto my cervix.
The whole weekend was spent making love and being in love. As I said before my whole resolve was destroyed by Tom’s words detailing what he wanted from me.
There was only one way.
Along with Tom and a lawyer I could scarcely afford, I arrived at the home of Tom’s unknown grandparents. At first he wouldn’t see strangers who arrived unannounced but my rapist’s father finally agreed to see us, when we insisted that it was important.
I saw him alone first and introduced myself.
“I am the girl that your son raped nearly nineteen years ago and I have brought your grandson along to meet you.” I explained.
The ensuing dialogue of denial, rebuttal, argument and counter argument is irrelevant. When I brought Tom into the room the old man just knew, you could see it in his eyes. Tom looked exactly like his father.
“What do you want from me, you gold digging little whore,” he hissed into my ear.
“Two million pounds.” I said calmly.
Again the ensuing dialogue is unnecessary, suffice it to say the situation was turning nasty and he was beginning to threaten me and my son. He said his money, power and influence would mean no one would believe me, just as before.
It was one word that changed the whole situation.
“DNA”. I calmly said.
The upshot of all this was, that rather than have his family name dragged through the courts, both financially, as Tom fought for his birthright and criminally, as I threatened to reopen my rape allegations, the old bastard broke his resolve.
Now as my husband and I frolic at the edge of the ocean, that lay in front of our beach bar, we have an idyllic life.
Tom my husband cannot keep his hands from caressing my rapidly swelling stomach, or my swelling breasts with their darkening and spreading areola.
