I managed to cover my intense emotional state well enough. I was shaken, but couldn't allow him to question me; I might just've blurted it out. As it happened, I did good enough, my husband bought it. I was glad he did and then went off to the garage. Now I was free to gather my thoughts while I went through the motions of making dinner.
As I made my way, unsteadily, to the kitchen, my thoughts boiled. What was I going to do? I couldn't tell anyone. It would be a nuclear disaster for our family. How was I going to handle it? I had to make sure it never happened again, I was sure of that.
Taylor, my 19 year old son, came into the room. He looked at me imploringly and mouthed, "I love you Mom. I'm sorry." I looked at him, but wasn't sure how to respond. I just nodded and he left.
As I prepared the meal, making a total hash of it, I turned events over and over in my mind. Alternately I was filled with fear, anger, doubt and finally desire. I had to admit it. There was no denying it. Again and again, I came back to that reaction. Did I really feel that way? It wasn't rational, logical and certainly not acceptable.
Hours later, the dishes cleaned and everyone doing their own thing, I pretended to read the paper. Still afraid of being scrutinized, I studiously kept a blank look on my face. The evening crept by, minutes taking hours. Various members of my family surfed in and out of the room. I paid enough attention to them, they quickly moved on. After a while, I put myself on autopilot, ceasing to dwell on my distress. When it was finally time for bed, I was grateful my husband fell right off to sleep. I couldn't.
There, laying in the dark, I allowed the words to form in my head. My son forced himself on me. He penetrated me with his hard young member. I was horrified by that stark reality, but yet, I burned with a fever over the memory. The dichotomy of those two positions, threatened my sanity. Yet, my mind returned to the afternoon. As I was in my room, Taylor came to me, like he would anytime. It was hard to bring to mind now, fuzzy unclear how it started. Talking, sitting on the bed. He was close, then closer. Gently, but firmly, he pushed me down. I didn't know what to do. I tried to sit up, but I couldn't. His hands took mine, pulling them above my head; his body on top of mine, pinning me so I couldn't move. I was afraid. What was he doing? Kissing. I struggled. More kissing. His weight held me down. Suddenly, I found my voice.
"No. You can't. Stop. You can't do this to me."
"Mom, if I take you like this, you won't feel guilty. You told me the guilt would eat you alive. This way you can say you had no choice."
"But please. This is not the way. It can't be." I started to fight back with all I had, but to no avail.
He didn't say another word. Holding both my wrists with one of his hands, the other hand worked fast to release his cock from his jeans and pull down my shorts. While he only had one hand on me, I saw my last chance, I tried to wrench my hands free, twisting and pulling them hard as I could. His strength overwhelmed me, I couldn't pull free, and then I felt him at my pussy. The head of his cock pushed at me until my fleshy walls gave way. He was bigger, thicker than I would've expected. It took a couple strokes for my body to make the adjustment for his, it was rough, since I wasn't wet or prepared for sex. I continued to fight, but I realized it was futile, so I made myself rigid as possible. He quickly established a tempo, pushing his hips so he penetrated as deeply as he could with his long fat cock, sometimes nudging my cervix, causing me to adjust my hips as best I could.
I tried to distract my mind from it. Why had he decided this was the answer to our dilemma? Contemplating that became difficult as he pumped in and out of me and my body was starting to betray me. I didn't want to enjoy this in the least, but I could feel a buzz starting in my core, tingles spreading out from my cunt. No! I couldn't, I wouldn't. I made a conscious effort to avert my thoughts away from pleasure, but it was in vain. Moisture came from inside me, clung to his cock, permitting him to glide in and out with no effort. My will evaporated, I gave in, yielding to the thrilling sensations coursing through me.
The tension in my legs slackened, allowing my knees to fall further open, easing his access. Still pinned, which, it appeared, was now exciting me, I couldn't move as I normally would, but could tilt my pelvis upward. Instantly, I was further aroused and became soaking wet. Detecting the change, he looked into my eyes and smiled. His rock like cock, sliced through the silken pink layers, occasionally brushing my clit, causing me shivers of delight. Taylor's balls slapped my ass as he pounded into me harder and faster, seemingly incited by my acquiescence. I absorbed it, anticipating each blow. Heat and tension were building in me, should I allow myself to cum? That would be giving in all the way and I wasn't sure I wanted to go that far. Like he read my mind, he rotated his hips so he came into greater contact with my clit. He was trying to make me cum.
The last shred of my resistance disappeared. I gave in with gusto. Wet smacking sounds filled the room as we mated, as did the aroma of sex, heady and musky. I breathed it in and along with the sight of his face above mine, handsome and loving. The spring was tightening in my pussy, my orgasm was there, just waiting for the trigger. Jack hammering into me, urging me with each machine like incursion, cum, cum, cum, and then came the release. In a massive shudder, I came hard, shockwaves rippling through every part of my body. Tremors shot through my limbs as well and continued surging through me again and again. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh God!"
"Yes, cum." The only words he would speak.
I did. Completely, totally, utterly. I came. My cunt squeezing him hard. Pushing and tightening around him. I felt him jerk and change pace; his body tensed. He was going to cum in me. My son, ejaculating, his semen would enter my womb. Five...hard...strokes...then...he...came, spasms wracking his body. I could feel each blast, his cock jolting inside me as I clasped him with my inner muscles. It was exquisite.
Slowing he fell onto me, still hold my hands above my head. His mouth absently kissed my tit. Taylor stopped and we lay there, breathing heavily, but not for long. We heard the dogs barking, we weren't going to be alone for long. He let go of me, shoved his cock back in his pants, kissed my cheek and left.
I got up and went to the bathroom to adjust myself and clean up. I could hear my husband coming in the door. He met me as I walked out of the bathroom.
As I thought of all this, my pussy was heating up again. I couldn't help it, I reached down to investigate. Dipping fingers into my well, I found the remnants of our liquefied passion. Miserable and confused as I was, I still masturbated. The heat was too overwhelming to ignore. My pussy was a bit tender, I hadn't been fucked like that in a long time. My clit was very sensitive. I had only to rub it in small circles to make it peek out from its hood. Full of shame, I teased and massaged myself, mind full of thoughts of my son, his cock and his passion, indulging in the illicit excitement of it. I used two fingers, fucking in and out of me, then a stroke or two across my clit, back in again, over and over until I could stand it no longer. I was convulsing, wanting to come. I finished using one finger, directly on the button, flying easily in the slick almost oily wetness. Rub, rub, rub... yessssss....ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh....another whoosh of fluid was released from me.
Overcome with emotion, for want a of a better word, I passed out. I wished I could've stayed that way. When I finally awoke in the morning, I felt ashamed and disgusted, that I had not only allowed myself enjoy his violation but then relived it and found more pleasure in it. Paralyzed, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't tell anyone. The consequences would effect more than him, blowing apart our family. I also wanted to protect him. The best way to do that, would be to stay silent, but to also confront him and make him know what a terrible thing he had done. He could never do it again, to anyone. Carrying the burden would be both our penances. I had to admit my culpability in this. I wasn't free of guilt. No matter how much he thought taking me against my will might alleviate it. It couldn't. The truth wouldn't allow that.