Secret No Longer

[Dear Readers:

If you prefer to read episodes of this series without their predecessors, that's fine and I hope you enjoy them that way. Just a heads-up, though: It's not meant to be an anthology. All the episodes (except the first) build on those before them, so you'll probably conclude some things differently from what was intended.

Some of our readers' public and private comments touch on unmentioned matters, just a few of which are safe sex, STDs and common real-world consequences of things and events in the story.

Two chief rules in theatre are, first, everything on stage must have a reason to be there, second, everything that the action requires must be present, whether explicitly or implicitly. It's not much different in written fiction. By the second rule, if a story does not get into some particular issue explicitly or implicitly (for example, indirectly through consequences) then it is irrelevant because the author deems it so and asks the reader to consider that issue adequately handled without mention. Sometimes action may be simplified a little from what is actually meant for the sake of smoothness and avoiding distracting details unnecessary for understanding the scene. A good author has respect for the reader's intelligence and imagination and does not feel compelled to paint every scene with photographic detail.

In short, if it ain't there, it don't matter. Please remember that this is a story, not a case study or the news. ]

SECRET NO LONGER

Chapter 08b

Surrender: Linda's Account

[Special note to this episode:

This is Linda's account of hers and Jason's surrender, which embraces the time from Linda's decision to carry out her intended seduction of Jason to the moment it has been achieved. The continuation of their act will begin with Chapter 09.

This chapter, comprising both Jason's and Linda's parts, has been the most difficult to write so far, and probably will be to the end. I've posted and then deleted at least half a dozen versions of each part, which is part of the reason for the delay.If you've followed it all so far, you probably can see why this part calls for some extra attention. As Linda hints here, there are multiple reasons why their approaching their goal takes such a tortuous path.

Also: Chapter 08a has been reposted after some serious dieting (roughly 4,400 words down to 3,100) kicking and screaming all the way. :-) ]

A sweet, wicked thrill flowed through me that moment I opened my bedroom door and strode into the hallway. Walking with a young girl's sprightly step, I reveled in the crisp delight of my exposure in the sheer blouse and made-for-seduction pants, knowing it was all for the sake of my son, and that I would finally fulfill that aching desire to know him as, not just the son I bore, raised and love as a son, but as a man. Not one objection to this illicit intention surfaced in my mind; only the sweet anticipation that goes before the joyful fulfillment.

I didn't have any particular plan in mind, and knew that none was needed. Nature's instincts would script a much better drama for the purpose, and I just followed its lead, waiting for whatever time and in whatever way Jason would eventually make his entrance.

Come on, Son! Come here. Find some reason to be here, and be quick about it. I don't know how long I can wait!

As he has already told you, he did find a reason, a familiar one. I heard him coming into the house for his snack and hid away around the corner of the living room until he could get to the fridge and raid it. Shielded from his view by the open refrigerator door, I quietly made my way to the dining room table and started that aimless fussing with the centerpiece, quivering inside, impatiently awaiting his reaction.

I was not disappointed.

I watched him closing the refrigerator door with his knee. Then he saw me.

How wonderful, how exciting, how priceless was that sight! I'll remember it always, his abrupt halt, his suddenly wide eyes, his half-opened mouth and the look of amazement and disbelief in his face. I fought madly to affect a casual, what-so-special-about-this manner as I took in the tableau.

"Hi, Mom," I heard him say--well, sort of say. The exact nature of the sound is hard to describe.

"Hello, dear," I replied, pleased with the Thespian skill with which I kept the fiery arousal within me out of my voice and manner. He went on to deliver the remarkable intelligence that he had come for a snack and then fumbled crazily with some kind of attempt at cleverness, all after greeting me a second time. Jason said in his narrative that I was enjoying this. Actually, I was enjoying it the way Lindbergh must have enjoyed landing the

Spirit of St. Louis

in Paris, or Hank Aaron enjoyed smacking those home runs that put him in the record books. "Enjoyed" doesn't begin to say it.

And yes, I did see him bite into the soda can. Only with the mightiest effort did I manage to retain my composure at that sight.

Still following that instinctive script, I concocted that trivial task with the tablecloth that enabled me to pose my body for him, confident that I had shown him my breasts in silhouette against the brightness of the living-room window. I needed no overt physical indications to see the growing fire I had ignited in Jason's soul, and it thrilled me to no end, animating me, adding a seductive sway and rhythm to my movements, which, as he says, Jason did not fail to read. I clung to that feigned casual indifference to the thick atmosphere of sex surrounding us as long as I could. Then that wacky idea of the pretended search of the garage shelves struck me and I hauled Jason there to carry it out.

Now, you may ask, why these elaborate games? One reason, of course, is that lovers--and now we were lovers--are wise to find games and fantasies to share. However, there was another reason, one which I intend to disclose later, in fact, in a later chapter. You'll probably understand the reason when you finally see it.

My eagerness no longer fettered by affectation, I mounted the stepladder and almost dreamily absorbed the feel of his touch, his strong, sure hold on my legs as he carried out my wish. When I felt his face nestling against my pelvis I knew I had him; just as he said, under ordinary circumstances he would never have allowed himself such proximity. Feeling him moving gently I stood still to let him seek his goal. He found it, and the gentle contact of his nose against my clit, buffered by the wispy nothing of the fabric of those pants, drove me into a realm I never knew existed. When the involuntary swaying of my hips separated his body from mine he drew me back to him, but now using the better instrument of his tongue to address my body's demands. At the insistence of his artful stimulation the flames within me soon ignited the tendrils of an incipient orgasm. My hips were thrusting, grinding into his face and he rode my frenzied passion like a skilled bronc rider at a rodeo sticking with the animal wherever it wants to go. The heat crossed the threshold; my breath froze; that electric sensation consumed me and I was now aware of nothing but a climax stronger than any I had experienced for a long time.

Jason writes that he felt me climax once. Maybe he was too absorbed himself to notice, or maybe he's being modest. I'll tell you; he took me to four orgasms that time. At least.

Is this really happening? Could I possibly be allowing my own son to make love to me, even oral love, making me climax like this? Far more, could I possibly be seducing my own son,stimulating him, maybe even compelling him to do that? And could I possibly be doing all that without the merest trace of regret or remorse?

My legs felt like jelly and I was grateful that he really was holding me steady. After descending from the ladder I made quick work of divesting Jason of all of his own clothes. The slowing of my frantic pace to take time to caress his erect cock with my fingertips seemed in no way unusual or disturbing. Soon we found our way to the guest bedroom.

With an instinctive wisdom remarkable for a man of his relatively few years, he touched me on my shoulders, a place where a son might touch a mother in a purely innocent way, allowing me to inwardly accept this simple contact in safety, before his fingers traveled to my more intimate regions.

His fingers rose to my forehead and he then proceeded with that very special touch, the one which my body and mind had learned to treasure, one which at one time can soothe and relax, and at another, of which this was one, ignite or intensify the heat of sexual passion. The room, the very world itself around us faded into irrelevancy, yielding to that fantasy-world where, on a cloud reserved for us alone, we would learn to fly over and into our own paradise. The slow tracing of his fingertips descended from my face to my neck, my shoulders and then approaching my breasts. I concentrated on those fingertips, soon immersing myself in the pleasure of his teasing of my nipples and his tender touches and caresses.

I clung to that delicious sensation for a while, until the Agenda of Desire drove me to take the next step. I rose and faced Jason, and commenced unbuttoning my blouse. It was not mere undressing, not even a striptease. So intense were the feelings driving me that, naturally and automatically, they infused each tiny action with themselves, and Jason, bless him, heard the message with perfect accuracy.

I am yours now, Jason. Watch me closely as I discard this symbolic separation between us and expose myself to you. I have thrown away its protection, and with it, all of my defenses; I shall be open, vulnerable, at the mercy of your love, trusting in your love to use my vulnerability with love. Read in everything I do an invitation to you to enter the part of my soul known only to the man whose love for me, and mine for him, are given freely. Together, let us seek the ultimately private part of my soul, and from there, find the road that leads to the ultimately private part of my body.

"Look at me, Jason. Look at all of me. Do I attract you?"

"More than you can possibly imagine, Mom."

"I am so very grateful. If my attraction is a gift to you, you may be assured your receiving it is every bit as much a gift to me."

The hushed fever of those words, words so sharply different from those of mother to child, deepened the trance and now enveloped both of us in its warm embrace.

A special fantasy was about to begin. Like a stage hypnotist leading people to alter their perceptions of ordinary things, I led us both into a special fancy, transforming the region from the waistband of the pants down to the meeting of my legs into a world traversed by a magical highway, though, unlike the stage hypnotist whose act is calculated to entertain, mine was not calculated at all.

"Jason, I want you to travel down a special highway, one which leads to my own Secret Garden. Are you ready?"

"Yes, I most certainly am."

I placed my hands on my hips, my fingertips grazing the sides of the zipper of the pants.

"Here is the highway. It has a public part and a private part. When you have reached the end of the public part you will have reached the First Gateway, and the beginning of the private part." I unsnapped the button securing the waistband of the pants. "The highway is open now, Son. Please, commence your travel."

Jason took hold of the handle of the zipper and drew it down, very slowly, pulling the sides of the fabric wide. My eyes closed and I focused upon the sensation of the gradual revealing of more and more of the last remaining regions of my body still concealed, each tiny increase in my exposure bringing nearer the moment of total exposure, with all that portended.

He halted his travel about two-thirds of the way.

"This is the First Gateway, is it not?" With unerring accuracy he had read the code.

"Yes it is, Son. Do you wish to enter my Private Garden?"

"Yes. Please do open the gateway."

"The First Gateway is open. Welcome, Son, please enter."

The zipper moved on, revealing the first wisps of my pubic patch. That, as he had recognized, is the boundary between public and private, by the normal standards of our culture, the limit of what a woman may expose of herself in public, and to her own son. Jason, at my invitation, had passed through the First Gateway and into my Secret Garden, a place our world deems forbidden to the sight, much less the touch, of a woman's own child. I was once again aware of the great difference between the revealing of these private regions to his sight that had occurred in the recent past and this, a deliberate, forceful exposure designed for his eyes and heart, and his alone.

The pants being designed for sex as they were, the zipper extends much further down than is usual for jeans. Jason drew it further and reached the bottom of its travel. He pulled the sides of the fabric away and beheld everything but the final secret. My eyes still closed, I could nonetheless feel the force of his unseen gaze, and with it, a sharp, sudden escalation of my own raging desire.

"You have reached the Second Gateway, Son. Is my Secret Garden to your liking?" The words rode upon a wispy, trembling exhalation.

"Immeasurably, Mom."

I shrugged my hips, and with Jason assisting the tight fabric, the pants fell to the floor, and with Jason holding them still, I easily stepped out of them.

"Now, Son, you see the full extent of my realm. There is nothing left to conceal me; I am completely nude before your sight. Set aside all the rules and instincts of discretion which you have been taught and instead instruct your eyes to absorb every part of my nude body. Let the meeting of your sight with my body become to me like the touch of your sweet hands upon my willing and grateful body. Are you pleased with what has been revealed to you?"

"Oh, yes, more than I can even find words to say."

"Then, my beloved son, are you prepared to pass the Third Gateway?"

"If you are, then I certainly am."

"Yes, Son, I am ready for you to pass the Third Gateway. I am ready to feel you pass--to

penetrate

the extent of my garden which lies beyond it."

No vestige of control remained within me, no wisp of volition. All force had gone the way of Nature. I dropped forward, knees on the bed, and straddled Jason's upper legs with my hips, then settled down upon them, sitting almost upon his knees. I felt myself sliding toward him until the rigid shaft of his tumescent cock lay pressed against my skin, my pubic bush gently brushing against it with the subtle and automatic movements of our bodies. I looked into his eyes and the fire I saw in his felt like a reflection of my own. For a moment hesitantly, then suddenly passionately, our lips met in a kiss, the feverish, all-consuming kind, the kind lovers cherish. The drumbeat of our hearts was deafening; the quivering expectancy of our bodies overpowering.

The kiss faded and ended. There was a sudden moment of peace, like the eye of a hurricane offering a moment of respite before the return of the fury of the storm. I rose back to my knees and pressed my hips against his chest. I began to descend. I felt Jason reaching for his cock, to guide it, and I touched his hand to stop him.

"No, Son, let me find it."

Gingerly I searched for the tip of his cock, lowering my body to touch it, probe for it, to try to place my eager pussy upon it, the movements of my hips and body testifying even more strongly, to both of us, to the unrelenting determination within me to unite my body with his.

Finally, I found the prize. With a small movement I felt his cock and my pussy become aligned. The bulbous tip of his cock rested gently against the rim of my vagina, as if testing the wetness there. I locked my eyes with his again and over that channel coursed a fierce energy, the confluence of a force arising from within us both, cycling from one to the other, gaining intensity with each cycle.

Son, herein lies truth. The warmth you feel surrounding your cockhead is the heat of my determination to make you part of me, in spirit and flesh. This is to happen; it is meant to be. This moment is the very last we shall ever live in innocence. Let us savor this moment, but not cling to it; rather, let innocence fade into our shared history and let us not regret its passing.

I descended slightly further and stopped, wanting to taste each instant of sensation. His cockhead passed my lips and rested for another moment. Even then I resisted, forcing the anticipation to build higher and higher until it reached, and then passed, the threshold beyond control.

With a guttural sigh I released myself. My body descended and I felt my pussy lips tracing the length of his cock, eventually to press flush against his own pelvis. It was but for a moment, but it is now engraved in my memory like a flash photograph, freezing an instant into permanence. I concentrated on the sweet truth: Jason's cock is now entirely contained with me; Jason, my son, has passed through the Third Gateway and fully penetrated the deepest recesses of my Secret Garden; my seduction of my son had finished in success; the end of the road, the final destination has been reached. Finally, after so many fears and hopes, the very wish that had once held me in torment and later metamorphosed into passion, had come to pass.

Now, at long last, unhindered, uninhibited and unashamed...

I was fucking my son.

(to be continued)