Empty Nest

It was February 8th, Ben's eighteenth birthday, and he was out celebrating with his friends. I was so proud of him, for growing up into such a caring, smart, and handsome young man, and for cultivating a nice little group of friends. It hadn't always been easy. His dad had died when Ben was two, just when we were getting ready to try for another child.

Ben had grown up sweet and shy, a little more attached to me than maybe was healthy, but I loved being a team with him. I never remarried, and never really even dated. I always put Ben first, and he returned the favor. We could always count on each other when things got tough. I'd help him with any problem and he'd help me. So maybe it was only natural what ended up happening when Ben came home on his birthday to find me crying.

I'd been emotional in the weeks leading up to the big birthday, so happy for him but also sad that he wouldn't be mine any longer, that he'd already gotten into a great college and soon I'd be at home alone. Being his mom had been my life, and I wasn't ready to give it up.

But these feelings hadn't boiled over until his actual birthday. I'd made him a nice breakfast and given him his gift before school, and now I was dangerously alone with my thoughts. I got a bottle of wine out with my dinner, then was surprised to find it empty by the time I was done eating.

So I opened a second one, and then I dug out my old photo albums, and before I knew it it was midnight. I was sitting in the dark living room, wearing my bathrobe and crying over Ben's baby pictures. A pathetic sight for my boy to come home to.

"Hey Mom, are you okay?" he asked as he entered, stepping forward carefully.

I didn't get drunk very often, and he wasn't used to seeing me like this.

"Oh, hey, I'm sorry," I sniffed, taking off my glasses and wiping my eyes. "I'm fine, just getting a little emotional, what else is new?" I could hear myself slurring my words. I was farther gone than I thought. I'd made a fair dent in that second bottle.

Ben came and sat beside me on the couch, putting his hand on my back. "What are you looking at?"

I looked down. The photo album was open in my lap to a spread of pictures of Ben as a newborn, starting with images of me at nine months pregnant. "I just can't believe you're eighteen," I hiccuped.

Ben smiled down at the pictures. "I know you're sad," he said. "But even though I'm an adult, I'm still yours. I promise."

My lip trembled and I threatened to lose it all over again. I fought for my composure. "I know, honey, thank you," I said, pulling him close, wrapping my arms around him. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"And I don't know what I'd do without you," Ben said. "We look out for each other, right?" I nodded, and held the hug for a few more moments before letting him go. He got to his feet and found a box of tissues for me. I gratefully wiped my eyes and blew my nose.

"I'm sorry, Mom's had too much to drink," I say, holding up my wine glass. "But we're celebrating, right? Would you like some?"

Ben was a born rule-follower, and I doubted he'd take me up on my offer. He was the one teenager I'd believe when he said he didn't drink or do drugs. But he eyed the wine and shrugged. "Are you sure?"

"I'm gonna die if I finish this bottle on my own," I laughed. "Go get a glass." He left, and when he returned he had an empty wine glass and a full cup of water.

"You should drink this," he said, handing me the water.

"Yes, sir." I drank half of it, topped off my wine, then poured some for him. "To my boy becoming a man," I said, raising my glass for a toast. "I couldn't be more proud of you." My voice was shaky again.

"Thanks, Mom." We clinked glasses and drank. Ben made a face and powered through it. When he drank, I could almost see his dad, as he'd been twenty years ago. That same face. That same knowing smile. My heart ached.

"What?" Ben looked up at me, puzzled. I must have been staring.

"Oh, sorry," I said. I could feel myself blushing. "I just can't believe you grew up to be such a handsome man."

Ben looked down at the photos, finding one of his dad holding him. "Is it weird that I look so much like him?"

"No," I said, shaking my head vigorously. "I love it. Whenever I miss him, I feel like I can look into his eyes. I can take his hand." I grasped Ben's hand and squeezed it. "I don't know what I'm gonna do without you, Ben."

"I know, Mom," he said, squeezing my hand back. "I won't really be gone, I'll just be a few hours away. But I know it's not the same."

I took another swallow of wine. "Honey, can I tell you something embarrassing?"

"Sure, Mom, we can tell each other anything." What a kid, I thought. He probably just wants to go to bed after a long night celebrating with his friends but here he was, happily listening to my drunken babbling.

"I've been thinking of having another baby," I said, looking down at my glass. I could feel my face flushing red from wine and embarrassment. "Like, for a long time now. I've even looked at some sperm banks. Is that ridiculous?"

Ben shook his head and smiled. "Of course not, Mom. I know you always wanted a bigger family."

And that was true. It was no secret that I'd wanted three or four kids, and Ben knew I sometimes got sad that my plans had been cut short.

"If another kid would make you happy, then you should have one." He sipped his wine. The taste seemed to be growing on him.

"Really?" I laughed. "You don't think I'm crazy? I'm probably too old to get pregnant anyway, that's what the sperm banks told me. It'd be weird to have kids eighteen years apart, but... I'm just not ready to be done being a mom."

"You do what you have to do," Ben said. "You're a great mom and any kid would be lucky to have you."

"Thanks, sweetie," I sniffed. "I wouldn't want to do this without you being okay with it. I think it's just a pipe dream, though. The sperm banks wouldn't help me because I'm almost 42. I'm not interested in dating anyone. What am I going to do?"

A tear rolled down my cheek. Ben set down his empty glass and wrapped his arms around me.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I wish I could help you," he said. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I just wish I could have a handsome young man like you as my donor," I murmured through my tears. "I'd want all my babies to look the same anyways." I hiccuped. I was definitely drunk, and the smart move was probably to go to bed. But I felt a weight lifting off of me as I really talked about this for the first time.

"Like me?" Ben said, rubbing my back.

"Yeah, like you," I replied, holding him tight. "I know you'd help me if you could."

"I would, Mom. I'd do anything for you."

A filthy thought was running through my mind, not for the first time. I wasn't expecting it to come out of my mouth, but there it was: "What if you were my donor?"

Ben broke the hug and pulled back. "What?" He didn't seem upset. Just confused, like maybe he'd misheard me. "Mom, what are you talking about?"

I was just about as shocked as he was, to hear myself say that out loud. I stared at the floor, humiliated. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm drunk. I should go to bed."

"No, wait," he said, reaching out and touching my knee. "It's okay. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Can you just tell me what you meant?"

"I'm drunk," I repeated, looking into my empty wine glass. "I'm not making sense."

"Tell me," he said.

"I don't know," I sighed. "If it were you, I wouldn't have to deal with a sperm bank... or any strange men I don't want around anyway... I wouldn't have to get pregnant with a one-night stand... all I want is you, Ben. You and a baby." I shook my head, trying to clear my mind.

Ben was silent for a bit. I noticed he was on his second glass of wine. "I guess I get it. When you have a kid, you want it to be with someone you love."

"You don't have to humor me," I said, struggling to get to my feet. My head felt all swimmy and I stumbled, and somehow Ben was there to catch me. He held me up, his arms around my shoulders. He's a good head taller than me, and I felt safe in his arms.

"I think we should get you to bed, Mom." He was right. I let him guide me up the stairs to my room, where I staggered into my bathroom. I sat on the toilet, feeling hot and embarrassed, convinced I'd ruined the night and made an idiot of myself. I waited long enough that I was sure he was gone, then I cleaned myself up and left the bathroom.

Ben was still there, sitting on the edge of my bed. He got up when I came in, pulling back the sheets for me. "Thank you," I murmured. "I'm sorry you had to take care of me on your birthday."

"It's okay," he said. He reached out, ready to help, but I managed to get in bed on my own. I felt better already, sitting back against the headboard. The room wasn't spinning any longer. Ben sat at the foot of the bed, looking into space.

"You can go to bed, sweetie," I said. "Thank you so much for your help."

He was quiet for another moment. "If you want to, I'll do it."

"What?" I asked.

"Help you get pregnant."

I took a deep breath. "I know you want to help me. But that would be crazy. Wouldn't it?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. But it'd make you happy, wouldn't it? I want you to be happy."

I knew I had to still be drunk, because he was making sense to me. "Wouldn't that be weird, though? Knowing it was... yours?"

He shook his head. "I'd just be a donor. I'd love to have a little brother or sister."

"You'd be the best big brother," I said, smiling wide. "I always thought so."

"Then let me help you," he said, finally turning to face me. He put a hand on my leg.

"I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you," I said. "I'll be okay, Ben."

"You wouldn't be forcing me. What if I want to?" His eyes met mine. I blushed. I remembered, when he was first hitting puberty, how I used to catch him peeking at me when I changed clothes, and once or twice I'd found my underwear hidden in his room.

I'd thought for a while that he had a little crush on me, that I was encouraging something strange in him, that we were too close. But that had been a phase. He was normal, we were normal. Right?

Ben had come around and laid down beside me in bed. "Mom, just think about it. You really want another kid?"

I nodded. "I really do."

"What do you want more? A boy or a girl?"

"I always wanted a girl after you," I smiled.

"Imagine her," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Imagine holding her and playing with her... how cute she'd be... how happy she'd make you..."

I nodded, sniffling as I daydreamed.

"Let me help you," Ben said, and he kissed me. Not on the cheek, like he sometimes did. On the lips. I gasped, not expecting that, but I let him do it. At first it was strange, and then my body relaxed.

The kiss ended, and I started another one. I wrapped my arms around him, held him close. Ben wasn't an expert kisser but he was enthusiastic, so much so that I had to pause and tell him to slow down. I showed him what I liked: slow, gentle kisses, tender and deliberate.

I felt the love between us so strongly. If I hadn't been tipsy, the bizarre nature of the whole thing would have been overwhelming, but I felt warm and safe in my son's arms.

As we kissed, his hand began to explore. He felt down my side, over my plush robe, tracing my curves. He rubbed my back. We'd always been comfortable being physical with each other, but this felt different. Especially when he found his way to my butt, then squeezed it through my robe.

I explored his body too. Feeling his shoulders, his forearms, his back. He had his father's tall, skinny physique. Maybe, I told myself, I could close my eyes and imagine it was him instead. But did I need to? My body was warming up. I could feel my heart beating faster, my breaths getting shallower, heat building between my legs. I wanted this, I realized.

Ben pulled back. "Mom?" he asked.

"What?"

He tugged gently at the belt of my robe. "Can I undo this?" I looked at him. My mouth was dry. The robe, all of a sudden, felt hot and restrictive.

"Hold on just a second." I rolled over and turned off the lamp. When I turned back to him, I could see him smiling in the dark.

"Now?" he asked. Polite and sweet as ever. I nodded. Ben slowly undid the tie and eased my robe open. I felt a nervous pit in my stomach. He was a horny teenager, and he wanted to help me, but what would he think of actually seeing my body?

I was definitely chubby, especially my lower half with big wide hips and fat thighs. My belly was still soft and round and stretchmarked from my pregnancy eighteen years ago, and my breasts, while fairly large, hung low, not as perky and full as they used to be. I hadn't trimmed my pubic hair in years. Laying in bed probably wasn't my best angle, my tummy bunched up in rolls, my boobs hanging to either side.

I'd averted my eyes, but now I looked up at Ben. He was smiling wide when my eyes met his. "Wow," he said gently. I wasn't sure if he was just being nice, trying not to hurt my feelings. I know he wanted to help me. "Mom, you're beautiful."

"You really think so?" I asked, fighting the urge to cover myself up. The last man I'd been naked in front of was his dad, in another lifetime.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, then laughed. I laughed too. This whole thing was so strange. But laughing helped me relax.

"Have you ever seen a naked woman before?" I asked once I'd gotten the giggles out. I knew Ben had been on a few dates, but he'd never had a steady girlfriend. I had a feeling he was a virgin.

"No," he said, a little sheepishly.

"So you'd probably be excited to see any woman naked."

"No!" he said, sounding genuinely hurt. "Mom, you look great."

"Relax, I'm teasing you. Are you gonna take your clothes off too?"

"Yeah." He got out of bed and took off his shirt, then he hesitated as he undid his belt. I sat up a little and shrugged the robe off my shoulders, giving him a better look at my naked body. He watched closely, forgetting what he was doing.

"Don't be embarrassed," I told him. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"This is different," he said. He was right. He continued to fiddle with his belt.

"Ben, you know, if you change your mind-"

He dropped his pants before I could finish the sentence, leaving him in just his boxer briefs, which had a pretty noticeable bulge in them. My eyes went to it and I blushed. He watched me look at it. Then he took a deep breath and pulled down the underwear.

"It's not that big," he said quietly.

"Oh, honey, is that what you're worried about?" I smiled. His penis wasn't huge, but it wasn't small either. It stuck straight out, hard and proud, maybe five inches. It had been a long time since I saw a man's penis hard for me. "It's a great size."

"It is?" he asked. He also seemed to want to cover himself.

"And look how hard it is," I smiled, holding back a laugh. "Is that really from looking at me?" He nodded. Even in the near-dark I could tell his face was red. "Can I touch it?"

"Yeah," he whispered. I slowly grasped his penis, feeling how hard it was, how ready. He let out a groan the instant I touched him. Gently I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, then stroked it. He shuddered. "That feels really good."

"Come back to bed," I told him. "You can touch me."

He climbed in beside me and went straight for my breasts, grabbing one in each hand. My whole body was tingling. "Remember, anytime you want to stop, you can. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"I don't want to stop," he said, and his voice wasn't like I'd ever heard it before. It was low and husky, choked with excitement. His mouth hung open as he played with my boobs, lifting them, squeezing them. My nipples, which were dark pink and hung low on my breasts, hardened at his touch. It was my turn to groan.

I sank back into the pillows, closing my eyes. He was being a little rough but his enthusiasm was infectious. It turned me on to see how excited he was. I could feel myself getting hotter, wetter, and I spread my legs without thinking about it.

He kissed me again, catching me by surprise, and I kissed him back. He continued fondling me as we kissed, and I reached down and touched his hardness. He moaned against my lips. I felt sexy. Powerful. Ben's hand roamed, squeezing, sizing me up as it went.

He felt my soft tummy, my round hip. He groaned when he took one of my butt cheeks in his hand. Then my jiggly thigh. Then his fingers ran through the wiry forest around my crotch, went lower, lower... and found my opening. He gasped. I gasped.

"Is that your..." he trailed off. I laughed at the absurdity. There he was, his hand on his own mother's crotch, and he was too embarrassed to say it.

"Vagina?" I asked. "Yes it is."

His fingers ran around it, feeling my protruding lips, then tentatively pressed in. I was hot already. Wet. He let out an impressed murmur. "Wow." He pressed further, one of his fingers disappearing inside me, and I shuddered. I was as insecure about my parts as he was about his- I worried my pussy was too hairy, too floppy, too loose- but he didn't seem to mind.

"You wanna go inside it?" I asked him.

"Yeah!" He said, then laughed. "I'm kinda nervous. I've never done it before."

"And I haven't done it in over fifteen years," I told him. "There's nothing to worry about. But I'm ready. When you are, just get on top."

"Okay," Ben sighed, and he kissed me again. The bedsprings creaked as he got up on his hands and knees. I spread my legs for him, putting my knees up and tilting my hips. He climbed on top of me, and I could tell he was nervous. "Sorry," he whispered as he lost his balance, resting all his weight on me.

"You're fine," I assured him, looking up at him. I put my hands on his hips. I could feel his hard penis against my stomach; at least he hadn't gone soft. "You're just gonna need to be a little lower. Let me show you." I guided him by his hips and he moved down. His breathing was fast and shallow. I reached under him and took his penis in my hand, pressing it against my opening.

I looked up into Ben's eyes. "Alright, sweetie, when you're ready, just push in," I told him, my hand on his shoulder. "Just go nice and slow. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom," he smiled, and he seemed to relax a bit. He took a deep breath and pushed into me. First the angle wasn't quite right, and he was pressing against the wrong part, but then he slipped in and he cried out. He followed my instructions, sinking into me slowly, inch by inch, and a wave of pleasure crashed over me.

I had forgotten how good it felt, to have a man inside me. My fingers gripped his hips, my nails digging into his skin. I inhaled sharply.

"Is that okay?" he asked nervously. "Am I hurting you?"

"It feels amazing," I breathed as he bottomed out. "How does it feel to you?"

"So good," he laughed. "Oh my God."

"I can't believe this," I marveled. "Can you?"

"No," he said, still giggly.

"You're doing great," I told him. "Just start rocking back and forth. Your body should know what to do."

"Okay," he said, and I was right. He thrust into me and let out a happy groan, discovering how good it felt. He did it again. And again. His movements were jerky, no rhythm to them, but I could tell how good he was feeling. He closed his eyes, his face scrunched up as he grunted and shoved his penis in again and again, the bed creaking-

"Oh my God!" he cried, and buried himself deep. I felt a rush of heat and realized he had finished, not sixty seconds after entering me. But I didn't mind. That heat meant I had what I wanted. Seed. Sperm. Swimming up inside me, looking for my eggs.

Ben shuddered and gasped, riding out the most intense pleasure of his young life, and I let him go. Finally he fell onto me, spent, panting. I stroked his back.