This is a work of fiction. All people in this story are over 18.
This is part 3.
8
My son is to have his way with me. That is, he will fuck me. I am sure of this, and unwilling to stop it. I'm so confused because what I want and what I need could not be farther from each other.
I walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where he was leaning against the stove; wearing only his underwear and a white t-shirt that draped over his frame. It hugged at his arms and chest. His hands were behind him and flat on the stove. His biceps weren't flexed but definitely stood out; he has very strong arms. I took two more steps to him. His pecs were firm, and his stomach was flat. I walked closer still. His underwear barely held his hardening manhood. It was lewdly displayed, the fabric pressing it down towards the ground with the veins and head pronounced and clearly visible. His legs were round and graceful ending in chiseled, masculine feet.
I stepped to him about a foot away and looked into his face. His face belonged to my son. "I can't do this," I thought, "I can't do this. I am his mother." I was about to tell him no. I was going to walk away from him and get my head straight before we did anything.
He didn't let me.
My son wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. I began to shake, emotionally but looking back I can't tell if it was from anguish or lust. My lip quivered as he put his mouth to mine. I was scared for what was happening to me. I was scared for what I had done. I was scared for the feelings that are changing inside me as he kissed me hot and hard. Flesh to flesh we pressed. My hard nipples flat against him. The butterflies in my stomach put at ease against his hard sex. His legs in mine, pushing my thighs apart.
He moved forward and pushed me back towards my bedroom. I backed through the door and fell onto the bed; he stood within the door frame back lit with his hands down and feet planted. He was walking sex, determined to have his way inside of me. I was on my bed, in my darkened room looking at this strange intruder and wondering if this will be fantasy or nightmare. I spoke one word, "Daddy." Because this was all so very familiar to something that happened to me a long time ago.
That time it wasn't supposed to happen. I was young and he was so strong. He held me down and it wasn't a beautiful thing. I wasn't ready. It hurt, it was confusing. My breath was shallow and urgent. I started to get scared; very scared. This man took a step towards me and it wasn't my father. It was my son; but the fear remained.
He took one more step and the memory of pain welled in my throat, closing it off. He stripped off his shirt and I looked into his eyes and there wasn't a drunken blankness. When I looked into his eyes there was nothing but a calm assurance. I was going to be OK. I could breathe again, just a little bit. I licked my lip, and tried to hide my apprehension. "Let me see it" I said. I was nervous, but I was ready.
He pulled down his pants and my prize flopped out, heavy with its tumescence. I smiled and laid back; my knees parted for him.
Tilting my head, I lifted up my hand and motioned c'mere. He walked to the edge of the bed and pulled my panties down; exposing my sex to my son for the first time. I didn't feel naked. I felt free. He lay down between my legs and on top of me. I felt the weight of his body, and the weight of the situation. I kissed his nose, then his mouth. I licked at his lips. He put his forearm on the pillow and pressed his forehead against mine and I felt the soft tip of his rigid flesh at my entrance. His tumescence pressed at me softly but did not break through. I reached down and slid his flesh up and down my slit, passing my lips. He pressed harder and was still on the outside of me!