A Trip To The Country

I felt his orgasm approaching and held him a little more tightly, speaking words of encouragement: "It's all right, my love. Just let it all go. Put it all into me. I want it all."

Then he was pumping his young seed into me. It was very sweet, and I was swept by tender feelings for him. He was young, about the same age as my oldest son, and so pathetically needy, and I suppose I had felt sad for him as he tried to hide his massive erection. I wanted to satisfy his hunger, to give him that relaxation that comes from putting your sperm into a woman.

I could say, "I don't know how it happened," but I don't want to try to justify or excuse the aftermath and myself for what occurred. When it came down to it, I wanted it to happen.

My name is Dominic. Age forty-five now and was married with three children. Now divorced with two children, both boys, the oldest being eighteen and the youngest sixteen.

One day, when I was still married to Harry, I saw an advertisement in the newspaper. It was a bus company offering one of those day trips to the country.

I had reached the point where I was thoroughly fed up with house cleaning, cooking and generally looking after the needs of three men.

I never seem to go out anywhere nice and interesting. Harry had long since given up taking me anywhere. When he had time off from work, it was spent with his fishing mates, not me. And in case you are wondering, he had given up fucking me long ago. Why I don't know, because I often saw other men looking at me as if they were cats gazing a bowl of milk that they couldn't get at.

So, on seeing the advertisement, I decided to give myself a treat and I booked a seat on the bus.

"Don't know what you want to be bothered with that for," was Harry's comment. "Waste of money if you ask me. A bloody day in the bleedin' country. Ha."

The boys wanted to come with me, but I vetoed that straight away. "This is my day away from you lot," I told them, "I'm certainly not taking you two just to look after your wants."

The day of the trip arrived. I dressed up for the country, or what I though was dressing up for the country, you know, tweed skirt and cardigan, and set out.

Harry's farewell was something like, "I suppose if you must go, you must." Gerry, my oldest boy gave me a hug saying, "Have a lovely day mum," and pressed a bag of sweets into my hand, "I got you these." My youngest, Simon, gave me a kiss and said, "Enjoy it mum."

Arriving at the bus station I found the tour bus and clambered aboard. It had been necessary to book in advance, and each ticket was numbered to correspond with a seat number. I found my seat, which was by a window, and sat.

Other people began to arrive, and I noticed that they were nearly all in their seventies and even eighties. I gathered that some sort of senior citizens club had booked most of the seats.

About a minute before the tour was due to start the seat beside me was still empty, then, right at the last moment, a figure came running across the bus station, and climbed aboard.

A slightly out of breath young man plonked himself beside me with the comment, "Only just made it."

I looked at him and smiled. I had noted that he was fairly tall, with a pleasant rather than handsome face. He appeared to be about the same age as my oldest son, Gerry. I had a little inside chuckle to myself, "I took this trip to get away from young men, and here I've got one sitting next to me. Oh well, at least I'm not his mum."

The bus began to move out onto the road. What had been the raucous prattle of the senior citizens swelled for a moment to an excited clamor, then fell away as they stared at the high street through which we were travelling that they probably saw three or four times a week.

It took about half an hour for the bus to get out of the suburbs and into something that resembled countryside. It is true that there were hedgerows, but the roadside and hedges were littered with paper, plastic and cardboard containers, presumably thrown from passing vehicles.

I felt a bit sorry for the boy sitting next to me, and wondered why he had come on the trip. He was about eighteen or nineteen and I was the next nearest to his age, which at that time was forty-two.

To try to give him a bit of companionship I said to him, "My name is Dominic," and left it open for him to give me his name.

"I'm Michael," he said.

From then on, we exchanged comments about the countryside we were passing through, although I must admit I had to initiate most of the talk. He seemed a rather shy, reticent young man, but with a sweet sort of manner which started to inspire "tender feelings" in me. The sort of feelings one can have for a loved son when he is a bit down.

Eventually the bus stopped at what passed for a "Tudor" teashop. The bus driver announced that we would stop here for an hour and a half. This seemed an excessive amount of time, but I supposed it was a crafty way of using up time and saving on fuel.

Initially the senior citizens seemed more intent on relieving inefficient bladders than drinking tea. Michael and I had got off the bus together and we both seemed intent on staying with each other, and not having any particular need to join the queue lined up outside the lavatories, we got in our tea order ahead of the crowd.

As I had alighted from the bus, I noticed a path that led to what seemed to be a small wood or coppice. Not being overly impressed with the surroundings, and wanting to get away for the now swelling chatter of the seniors, I suggested to Michael that we take a walk.

He agreed without demure, and we set out for the wood.

It turned out to be far larger than I had expected, and was in fact part of what remains of a once huge forest.

Michael and I followed the path into the wood. It was a truly lovely day in late spring, and I began to feel the tingle of new life in me, as if in harmony with the budding trees and plants around me.

After a while we came upon the grassy hollow, and I suggested we sit for a while. I lay back on the grass, my hands behind the back of my head.

Our conversation was stilled, and I was aware of Michael looking at me with sad, longing eyes. I saw the swelling lump in his groin, and I seemed to know and accept what must now happen.

He leaned over me and kissed me softly on the lips, at the same time cupping my breast with his hand.

I was so at peace, so in harmony with the throb of life around me, I made no protest or move to stop him. I simply lay there letting waves of pleasure wash over me.

Michael moved the bottom of my skirt so as to reveal my panties, which he gently removed. I parted my legs in tender compliance to his hunger. He came between them and entered me.

Our coupling was amazingly peaceful. No wild passion, no crying out, just a soft tenderness as he moved up and down in me. I can honestly say it was the sweetest, loveliest sexual intercourse I had ever had to that time. On so short an acquaintance, I suppose it would be ridiculous to say we loved each other, yet there was tenderness in what we were doing.

As he planted his young seed in me, I knew with that instinct women seem to have what the outcome would be. I sensed that he had fertilised me. He had begun that process of new life within me, and I wanted it. I wanted to create once more, to have his sweet seed grow inside me. I wanted to have my own springtime.

All had gone ahead without a word being spoken; as if what occurred was inevitable and needed no words. My only speech had been as he began to ejaculate into me, and these had been words of loving encouragement.

We rose from the grass, and hand in hand wandered in silence back to the bus. Once seated again I lay, uncaring of what the other passengers thought, with my head on Michael's shoulder.

I slept.

In the late afternoon, we arrived back at the bus station. I awoke with a jerk, surprised at my surroundings as people often are when awakened suddenly. Michael was still with me, but after moment when I had fully awakened, he rose. I rose with him and we left the bus.

Outside the bus station we stopped. I put my hand to his cheek and kissed him softly on the lips. "Goodbye," I said.

"Goodbye," he responded, then added, "I shall always remember."

We parted. No exchange of addresses or telephone numbers. No promise to meet again. We simply went our separate ways.

I have never seen nor heard from Michael since, nor he from me. Yet, it was with him that I experienced one of the loveliest reproductive moments of my life.

Of course, the story could not end there. I waited until I was sure of my pregnancy, then faced up to telling Harry.

"I'm pregnant, Harry."

A silence, then a burst of laughter.

"You're joking."

"I'm not joking, Harry, and it would be better if you realised it straight away."

"How the bloody hell can you be pregnant, I haven't touched you for more than two years."

"Then perhaps you bloody should have," I shouted at him, "but since you've asked how I got pregnant, I'll tell you."

I told him about my bus trip and Michael.

Harry was beside himself with anger and weeping.

"You slut, you bloody filthy slut. You can get rid of the little bastard. I'm not supporting some other blokes snotty nosed little shit."

I let him rave for a while, then finally cut in: "I'm not getting rid of the child, as you put it, and if you should think of adoption, forget it. This child is mine, I want it, and I shall keep it. I don't expect you to like it, but that is how it's going to be, Harry. Take it or leave it."

"What about the boys? How are you going to tell them their mother is a whore?"

"I am not a whore, Harry. In all our married life I have had one sexual intercourse with a lovely young man, and that long after you made it clear you don't want me any more. As for the boys, I intend to tell them what I have told you, just as soon as we've finished. There'll be no lies or cover up.

"Well, you can get on with it then. I've got nothing more I want to say to you."

He slammed out of the room and the house.

I called the boys to join me in the lounge, and as I said, I told them what I'd told Harry.

I had expected a very negative reaction from the boys and was flabbergasted when Gerry came to me, kissed me and said, "Mother, I think that was just a beautiful thing you did for that young chap. I wish I could meet a lovely lady like you to have sex with. Although if she was going to have a baby, I think I'd want to stay with her."

Simon, the quieter one of the two, came over and held my hand and said, "I love you mum."

I burst into tears, and had two young men trying to comfort me. It was a bit overwhelming.

For a week or so, in a surly sort of way, Harry seemed to settle into the idea of my having the child. But he couldn't maintain this stance. One day he came home from work and announced he was leaving me.

"I'm not living with the local harlot," he declared.

I could have started a row about that, but I thought it better that he went his way. I could not imagine that there would be any peace between us in the future, so it was better we parted.

The boys had the choice as to who they lived with, and they both elected to stay with me.

Gerry was eighteen, and could if he wished, go off on his own. Instead he came to me and hugging me said, "I'll take care of you, mum."

Being in that sensitive condition that afflicts many pregnant women, this led to another bout of crying.

Both the boys now became the protectors that men are supposed to be when with pregnant women. So active around the house they became that I had to forcefully inform them I was pregnant, not sick.

A month passed. My pregnancy was medically confirmed. The boys and I settled down into a routine without Harry.

One evening, when Simon had gone to bed, Gerry and I sat talking. He made some comment to the effect that he could not understand how Michael could just disappear from my life, especially having got me pregnant.

"You are a lovely looking woman, mum, and if it was me in Michael's shoes, I'd have been around here knocking on the door."

"Well," I answered, "He doesn't know I'm pregnant. We don't know his circumstances, and to be fair, I didn't give him my address or ask him for his. He was a shy boy, and perhaps he was too afraid of being rejected if he tried to pursue things further."

Gerry came and knelt in front of me.

"I won't leave you, mum, ever."

I gave a little laugh. "Darling, you'll find some girl you'll want to be off with, so you'd better not say you'll never leave me."

I looked at him and noticed he had an erection. On previous occasions when he was with me I thought I had seen him harden, but had not pursued the thought. Now I could not be mistaken. He was already prepared for bed, which meant short pajama bottoms. I could very clearly see his penis pressing the cloth out and a little wet patch appearing just where his penis head could be observed.

Curiously, I had that same feeling of peace I had experienced with Michael. I did not want to resist, and desired only to surrender to Gerry. But the different circumstances indicated that this time I would have to be more active.

I touched his penis through the cloth and said, "You want mother, don't you Gerry?"

He looked at me for a moment, then said, "Yes, I've wanted you for a long time."

I slipped from my chair to join him on the floor, taking off my panties as I did so.

I did what I had done with Michael, and spreading my legs, I said, "Come into me then, darling."

"But mother, the baby…"

I laughed, "It's all right my love, it's a long time before we need worry about that."

Gerry entered me. He was very quiet. It was almost as if he was engaging in some sacred act, worshipping at a holy shrine.

As if he had read my thoughts Gerry spoke softly as he moved within me, "Mother, I adore you."

I spoke to him quietly as he began his orgasm.

"All of it, darling, all of it in mother. Put it in deep."

He thrust hard into me and I put my legs round him to drag him closer. The sweet semen pounded into me.

When he had finished he said, I wish I could make you pregnant, mother."

I smiled. "That will have to wait, my love."

Gerry came to my bed that night.

The morning brought us a problem. What about Simon?

Gerry told me how he and Simon had often discussed their mutual desire for me. I pointed out that Simon, according to the law, was still a bit too young to have sexual intercourse with me. I offered to talk with him, but had to ask Gerry how he would feel sharing me with Simon.

He said he was sure we could work things out, so I took Simon aside. By now he was over seventeen, which left him still below the right age. I told him what Gerry and I had done, and he seemed pleased. Without putting any pressure on him, I said that if he was prepared to wait a few more months, he could share me with Gerry.

"That's great," he said, and went on, "I can wait."

Gerry now occupied my bed every night, and was my lover in every sense of the word. As time drew on, and my pregnancy became obvious, we had to take more care, until, towards the end, he had to be content with me either masturbating him or giving him oral sex.

Then came the birth. A girl whom we have called Diane.

Having recovered from the birth, Gerry and I resumed our fully-fledged sex life, but now joined by Simon who had become of age.

We had some beautiful times together, and I had the wonderful experience of one boy having anal sex with me and the other vaginal sex simultaneously.

Simon did not in fact long stay my lover. He had not the same devotion to me that Gerry has, and once he met a girl he fell in love with, sex with me ceased.

Perhaps it was just as well, because shortly after I fell pregnant to Gerry, and this way we can at least be sure who the father is.

So far Gerry has kept his word, and is still with me. I am fairly sure that he is a faithful son-lover, and I certainly wish for no other penis in me but his.

My memory of that lovely afternoon with Michael remains, but that is all it is and all I want it to be, a beautiful memory. Gerry has taken seriously the role of father to Diane, and I am sure I can expect the same from him when it comes to his own offspring with me. In addition, he knows how to keep a woman well satisfied, if you know what mean!