The Sweetest Sin

Jack and I fucked ourselves senseless all that day, and far into the night. It's a cliche, but I lost count of the number of orgasms.

The news of my pregnancy had worked my son into a frenzy. He was unstoppable. No sooner had he cum than he was hard again. How he replenished the supply, I don't know, but by the end even Jack - with those big balls the size of kiwifruit - was shooting air.

That first time, our first fuck of the morning, I'd told him as he rode me to the finish line. Told him the news he had been dying to hear.

"Cum with me, darling," as the quivering began and the butterflies fluttered. "Shoot more babies into my pregnant belly."

"P... pregnant?"

"You're a father now. I'm carrying your children, Jack." The quivering was out of control, painfully sweet. "You've bred me. I'm a month along and nothing can stop me now. That cunt you're fucking is going to give you two beautiful babies."

At that last word, his jaw tightened, and I saw it: there, under his chin, where only a lover - or a mother - would ever notice. Cut open at 14 by a cleat to the face at second base. I remembering jumping to my feet in the bleachers and screaming as I saw the blood dripping down his shirt. But he insisted on staying on the field, and the wound wasn't cleaned and taped until the game was over, so it hadn't healed over properly.

There it was now, a hard ridge of skin that was a reminder that for 18 years we had had a life before he had come to my bed; that we were mother and son before we became mother and lover; that there had been nappies and birthday parties and Little League games and scabby knees and first days at school and homework and braces and ice cream at the beach, and that the man pounding away between my legs had once been a baby between my legs.

"I did it for Mom," he told his father after the game. "I wanted to show her I'm not a quitter."

I caressed his scar as he approached the end. "Do it for Mom," I managed to gasp before I imploded in on my own orgasm.

His eyes were boring into me as hard and deep as his cock was boring into me. This was heavy fucking. I knew the bruising would last for weeks, inside and out. One wordless roar as he plunged into me, his cock-head hitting something far up inside me.

Then a torrent of words as he unleashed his seed. "Our babies, Mom! It's all I've ever wanted. You and me and our babies, forever."

And that's how it went all day. One long fuck, punctuated by half-hour breaks while we recovered, then I would whisper to him: "Our babies" and he instantly stiffened.

When finally I drifted back to earth from my eighth - or was it ninth? -- climax and Jack's limp-at-last dick slid out of my stretched, soaking hole that evening, we fell into the deepest unbroken sleep. We were still dead to the world in the morning when I heard the front door slam. Jack reached sleepily for his phone.

He texted his sister.

Upstairs. Mom's bed.

Cassie was at the door in seconds. "My God, this room reeks of sex. You two must have been fucking all day yesterday and half the night."

"That's exactly what we've been doing. It was my last day alone getting railed non-stop by my son. From today we start sharing. This is your big moment - just you and Jack. It's opening night."

Opening you up night.

Cassie sat on the bed next to me and held my hand. "I can't tell you how much I've wanted this," she sighed, giving me a melting, doe-eyed look that made my pussy surge. "But are you okay with it, Mom? This whole... thing?"

"Darling, it's going to be amazing. Me, Jack, you and Dad - one big happy fucking family."

"That's all I want, Mom." Her hand went to the back of my neck. She drew me in and our lips met. It was a shockingly erotic act, for someone who all her life had been simply my daughter. My lips parted slightly and I was falling into my first kiss with another woman. God, it tasted good. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, in a way that was indefinably feminine, but utterly authoritative. Soft yet strong, she was in complete control.

My head was spinning, my clit was pulsing as she released me and sat back. I realized with dismay that the sheets had slipped and my breasts were on full display, my nipples pink and swollen with a shameful desire that no mother should have. Blushing furiously, I covered myself and stammered an apology, but she put a gentle finger to my lips and gave me an enigmatic smile.

Everything had changed. We both knew it. In those few seconds, she had taken command, and we could never be simply mother and daughter again.

One big happy fucking family.

I said the words confidently. But in the back of my mind a doubt had begun to gnaw at me.

Will I regret this? Was that mysterious smile actually a smirk of triumph on Cassie's face? Has she just taken - no, have I just given away - the most important thing in my life? It all seemed so exciting yesterday, but now that it's about to happen...

I couldn't dwell on it for long. My children were eager to start. I showered and changed the sheets. I wanted things to be clean and fresh for when Jack mated with his sister for the first time. But in truth, I realized my children just wanted to fuck each other. In bed, on the carpet, in a patch of dirt if they had to.

That first time was a cosmic collision of bodies.

Two beautiful 19-year-old twins dedicating themselves to each other's pleasure. Cassie, her perfect body, snow white, touched with pink at the nipples and between the legs; pregnant, though not yet showing. Jack stiff and urgent, his muscled body eager to get to work.

And there's me. A buxom mother helping her children mate, in defiance of every law of man and nature. Kissing and caressing, I ensure that she is wet enough to take her brother's abnormal girth and length.

When the time comes, when her sighs and her body movements and her flowing juices tell me that she is ready, I guide Jack's cock-head to Cassie's cunt. I am deep-tonguing her as he begins to penetrate her, and I am rewarded with her gasp at his size.

My fingers explore the place where their genitals join, feeling him inch his way remorselessly into her tightness. She cries out - "It's too big, Mom! It won't fit! Make him stop!" - but there's not a force on earth that could make him stop now, at the entrance of his pregnant sister's birth canal. After a few abrasive thrusts it gets easier and he begins to feed more of his thickness into her and her cries fade and he starts to ride her.

My hand is at her cunt-hole, feeling his shaft move in and out, a smooth piston of flesh, as Cassie gets a professional fucking from an expert. I revel in the rhythmic slap of his balls on her ass, the sound of a hard tool going to work on a tight pussy, a raging stallion riding his mare.

It should have been a fantastic experience. And it

was

. Sort of...

I caressed and I kissed and I cajoled, but in the back of my mind, I had to admit that I wasn't actually

needed

here.

It was a privilege to be present at my children's first incestuous coupling, but something nagged at me: I didn't feel involved. My presence in bed with them was just a sign that I assented to this new relationship; that I couldn't back out, couldn't go back to just Jack and me. They had explained the contract, I had signed it. Everything had changed, forever.

When they came, loud and uninhibited, beautiful teenage bodies crashing against each other, Cassie's cries of pain having given way long ago to sobs of pleasure, I don't think they were even aware I was in the room.

And me? At first my fingers and tongue were busy on them, but I soon realized I wasn't needed and I lay back, reduced to a disengaged spectator.

My mind was detached, my body was numb, and as my beautiful children climaxed, then came down slowly from their Olympian high, I felt empty, sad, disconnected from it all.

I wondered whether this was how it was going to be from now on. Cassie with Jack... and me a frustrated outsider at the window, peeping in at them enjoying each other.

Had I lost Jack? Should that have been the rhythmic slap of his balls on

my

ass, his hard tool going to work on

my

pussy? Had the young stallion swapped his old grey mare for a fertile filly? Had I made the biggest mistake ever - given up the love of my life and gained nothing in exchange, just this heavy ache in the back of my skull and a sense of regret that sat like a stone on my heart?

I left them to it and got up. He was mounting her for a second time. Yesterday it had been me in that same position in that same bed. Would he fuck Cassie all day too, and half the night? Would they wake up in each other's arms, in a room reeking of great sex, as we had done?

He was entering her. She winced at first, then purred as his length worked its way up her. "I own this cock, bro."

Funny, how often had I said the same thing. My son's cock. All mine. I'd never imagined that I'd have to share it. No -- would

willingly agree to surrender it

I was weeping when I left them fucking like young gods and I slipped out the door. They didn't even notice.

I spent the day in town, staring blankly as cup after cup of coffee went cold and fear lay on my mind.

Should I even be drinking caffeine, in my state? I'm an ageing pregnant single mother. Elderly multigravida - that's what they call you. Oh, and geriatric pregnancy too - that's what they say if you're over 35. Geriatric! Seriously. Just what I need to hear right now. The Teenagers and the Geriatric. The movie no one would want to watch.

I'm prone to mood swings anyway, and being pregnant must have exaggerated that. I went from hope to darkest despair.

Maybe we can salvage something out of this wreckage.

..

He said he loved you, remember? You're carrying his babies... He's your husband. That ceremony in Paris, the promises we exchanged during our love-making, that was as binding as any piece of paper... No. Face facts, Susan. Cassie is perfect. Now that he's discovered the delights of shaven teen pussy, he's never going to want to go back to your hairy old hole... I've lost Jack. Lost him for good.

I gazed out of the window. Everything blurred. The only thing I could see clearly was his cock - the big helmet, prominent veins, the fat channel on the underside, swollen with cum - as it pumped into his sister's cunt. Over and over and over and

over

. I couldn't believe how tight her lips were stretched around his girth. Physically, it shouldn't have been possible. "It hurts, Jack, please be gentle," she had cried at first. But she had soon gotten used to something that big thrusting into her, and was learning how to use it for her pleasure.

And God, was it big. I'd always delighted in a little game whenever I was out in public. I would run my hands over everyday objects, without anyone knowing that I was comparing them to him. The kick I got, touching stuff in front of other people, who had not the slightest idea what I was doing. Scaffolding pipe, handrails, drink cans. The fruit and vegetable aisle! Trying to fit my fingers around their girth. Fondling them all, "perfectly innocently", proud that they weren't as thick as Jack, and glorying that it -

it

- would be waiting for me at home later.

Well, no more fun with the supermarket cucumbers. It would be Cassie playing that game from now on.

I was guilty of the Sin of Lust. Crazed with desire, I had persuaded myself that my children's invitation to join them in bed was more than an attempt to make me complicit in their arrangement. How enthusiastically I had joined in. Kissing, licking, fondling. Frantic with lust, I had crossed legal and moral lines. I had gloried in my sordid defilement of her most intimate parts, my fingers entering her soft, moist folds, curling up to rub that secret place inside. Jesus,

I had fingered my own daughter.

I had violated the person who had more right than anyone on earth to expect my protection. How in God's name did I think that was morally permissible, let alone legally acceptable. I had betrayed a lifetime of trust for a few minutes of perverted excitement.

The Sin of Pride. Kidding myself that I - a 43-year-old woman - could be part of a sexual relationship with the two best-looking teenagers I knew. How often had I congratulated myself on my gigantic breasts, when really they were a gift from God. Pride! How often had I preened and purred when Jack told me how much he loved my body, my sexy silver hair, my hot pussy. Not a word of it meant sincerely, I could see that now, but how I had reveled in those compliments at the time. Pride! Deluding myself that I was the M that everyone would love to F. Pride! How could I have believed that my hot young children would want me to be part of their sex lives. That they needed anything this pregnant

geriatric

had to offer. Pride!

The Sin of Stupidity. See Above.

Prideful, lusted-filled old fool.

Unbidden, the image came to my mind again. His cock, pumping in and out of her like a machine, unfailing in its rhythm. I knew what my girlfriends would say if they could see Jack's Super 8. "What a whopper... No, it's a double quarter-pounder... That thing would rip me apart... but you'd die happy... Christ, that package [elephant trumpeting]."

But what none of them would say is

beautiful

. He'd been a virgin until I plucked him. And in all that time, there wasn't a day when I didn't hold him, long and heavy, in my hand and thank God for his beautiful gift. Pleasure giver. Sperm spurter. Life bringer. And it was all mine.

As my fingers caressed the thick shaft; as my lips kissed the helmet and I ran my tongue over its prominent ridge, I gave thanks for its power, its potency, its

beauty

, from the place where it was rooted to his body like some mighty trunk, to the pink cum-slit that fed me - only me.

I thought back to the way he kissed her, the way he caressed those breasts, bringing her nipples to fiery tips of desire. The way he concentrated on her, entirely on her -

the way he used to do to me

.

Meanwhile, I lay inches away from their rutting bodies, ignored and irrelevant.

I rewound that scene from this morning and grimaced. What I must have looked like - a grey-haired mid-life expectant woman, breasts wobbling all over the place, wallowing in bed alongside two perfect teenagers and their tight, lithe bodies. Trying to join in something I could never be part of. I had fooled myself that I was helping to get Cassie worked up. Christ, she didn't need working up, she was sopping wet the moment her ass hit the mattress. Jack certainly didn't need me: he knew his way around a woman's body without his bumbling, fumbling mother getting in the way.

I'd just given them something else to laugh about. Why had they asked me to be there? Why? Just so they could LOL about me later? I was stupid and naive, but I didn't deserve that cruelty.

Just please, please don't tell her the secrets. The secrets I shared with you when we made love; when we walked through the drifts of autumn leaves and planned our life together; when we cuddled in bed on a Saturday morning with nothing but our own pleasure stretching forth before us all day long. The fantasies. The hopes and dreams that a woman offers to the man she loves. Please, Jack, no. I couldn't bear it. Please don't betray my secrets.

Oh God, no: an especially humiliating memory surfaced. I grimaced as I recalled wriggling down the bed and trying to lick Cassie, to get a first taste of my daughter's pussy. But she had turned away and I accidentally kissed her thigh instead and pretended that was what I'd meant.

Jesus

. I was crimson with embarrassment.

I put my head in my hands. That was a mistake - I could smell her on my fingers, a smell worn like a brand of shame.

It was the scent of sex, of betrayal, of a supremely satisfied young woman usurping the throne of the foolish old queen. I gagged on the smell, gagged on my own stupidity. I remembered that mystery smile after that first traitorous kiss with Cassie - Judas!

They had explained what the contract involved, talked me through the small print - and

still

I had signed it.

I own this cock, bro

. She was right. I'd given it up without a fight.

I knew the exact moment I knew for certain that I had lost the battle. Jack was panting, the muscles knotted on his back and in his biceps as he pumped her pussy. His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, and I knew he was doing it tough, holding off as long as he could. Underneath him, Cassie was tensing, trying to get there. By the look on Jack's face, I knew he was about to bust, when Cassie suddenly panted: "Yes, Jack, oh yes. NOW! I'm cumming. Give it to me now, don't stop, give me every drop. Jack, I Iove you, I fucking love you."

"I'm cumming. I love you. Oh God, I'm cumming in you. Take it, Cassie, take my sperm." And he lowered his mouth to hers as the bed shook and the air filled with the sounds of their climax.

Ironically, it wasn't the "I love you"s that broke my heart as I lay, superfluous and ignored, alongside them. It was the "give me every drop". For while I had of course known what the arrangement was - that she would be using his body, taking his cock - it killed me to think that she was now claiming his sperm. Surrendering my right to his essence, his life force,

the very seed that had created our babies,

wounded me more than anything.

As she lay flushed and panting, dipping her fingers into herself and spreading his copious ejaculate across her vulva and over her freshly pleasured pussy-lips, I knew she had won.

I understood what would happen. After she'd delivered Doug's babies, Jack would be hopping on his sister any chance he could, filling her over and over and over and

over

with his potent fluid. He'd want to make sure the next babies she carried were

his

.

Take my sperm. Take my babies.

Jesus

, I realized with a shock,

he even has time to get her pregnant again while she's still a teenager!

My hand went to my stomach.

Geriatric

. It was like a knife twisting.

Of course! That was his plan all along. That's why Doug had been brought in. While Jack rode Cassie, I was meant to be happy being bedded by my ex. Doug and I, we were supposed to be each other's consolation prize.

What an idiot I'd been. I had thought that sex would bring Jack and me closer together. And superficially, it had. But I suppose every mother who draws her son to her bed faces the same cold reality in the end. I had imagined I was binding him to me. What I was really doing was preparing him to leave. Fucking his mother was a way of flexing his muscles, testing his young wings. Once he had learned the sexual power he had over me, how could he resist exercising that power over other women. I was just somewhere to park his dick until something better came along. Soon that hairy old hole would be an embarrassing memory, an ancient overgrown milestone on his sexual journey.

This chasing after multiple mates, it's such a male thing. Why should I have expected Jack to be any different. They all do it.

Just in my little circle of church moms, one had lost a husband to a mother he met at the school gate. Another husband had run off with a young Chick-fil-A waitress. (Now, girls' solidarity and all that - we were all on Carol's side - but that waitress was

hot

.) Then there was Simon, who ran off with a father he met at the school gate.

Ah, men. If only their pricks had been used for the good of the human race.

"Miss? Hello? Miss? I'm sorry, but we're about to close." I looked up from my umpteenth cup of cold coffee.