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To readers who expect immediate sexual acts in the story, I really feel sorry to disappoint you. However, the invitation is still open for you to sum up an alternative reading that, in the words of some readers, is lifelike, the events of which can happen and could have happened to real people.
It was easy to understand why my son, Albert, had such an ardent desire to bed me, his own mother, that Friday night. He defied even the threat of a possible crime of passion from a jealous husband who was none other than his father. His libido at that torrid moment was at its explosive point. My guess was that his dad’s sudden arrival during our startling sexual foreplay at the living room earlier that evening had caused it. When he grabbed me by the arm as I quietly emerged out of our bedroom door he was gripped, to borrow his words, “by the most powerful of all sexual feelings.” At that moment in time his desire to have his mother body and soul was inexorable.
When I was alone wondering and confused how it all started I thought of myself as the wicked one the mother who, by lack of inhibition, had inadvertently molded her son into a sexual Frankenstein, a monster that she the creator could not control. If only I hadn’t played along with his “harmless” sexy games the temptation that hanged over the heads of every mother and son at one time or another in their lives could have been overcome or satiated by one time self-gratification stands.
Nonetheless my son and I evaded inappropriate physical closeness with each other in the days that followed that Friday night. Not that our mutual sexual longing for each other had waned. It was just that we had to fulfill a common wish to defuse tension at home. I do not mean the sexual tension this time but the emotional tension that had gripped a formerly peaceful and quiet home.
My husband Mark and I had never been the same since. We still sat to dinner together, slept on the same bed and carried on with life but no longer the kind of family life that it used to be. Coldness and indifference not to mention doubts, however hidden, continued to linger. Times were there when the chilliness was so biting that I had thought of spending the nights either at the spare room or at the living room. But because Mark’s suspicion was on active state staying out of the bedroom during the nights even for a noble reason was, in his mind, a sneak to a lover’s tryst. Of course he wouldn’t directly accuse me of having trysts with my son because, as already mentioned, he recognized the obscenity of talking about it. He would use emotion and sarcasm to express it.
Even with that Mark’s determination to have us caught in the act was pretty obvious. He came home unexpectedly several times during the day sneaking quietly into the house trying to catch his wife and son playing with fire or actually on fire in bed. If both Albert and I happened to be out of home, he’d take it like we were together somewhere, making love and fulfilling an incestuous passion. His sarcastic words and stares had more biting effects than a direct accusation. Not satisfied with his own spying mission he persuaded my father-in-law, a former business executive now living alone and awash with retirement money, to stay at home, in his words, “for a few weeks.” Needless say he wanted more prying eyes to watch over us.
In fairness to Albert, his raging hormones notwithstanding, sex is not all what was in store in him for his mom. He really loved me as his mother not just as his “sex goddess.” His heart would cry out for me each time he’d see me emotionally battered by his jealous father, saying comforting assurances like the day is not far off when he’d leave home and go on his own. The idea although inevitable is not really comforting to me to if I have to be honest. Not that I’d miss the thrill of erotic near-misses in the dark. Just like him sensuality is not all what is in store in me for him.
I took advantage of the sexual lull by carrying on with my Sunday devotion to the church trying hard to take back my prim and proper self. I had sincerely prayed to God that my son and I could put everything behind us, preserve my marriage and restore peace if not happiness at home. Albert, a perfect young gentleman that he was gave his cooperation although unsolicited.
Albert’s concern for his mother’s well-being had kept us physically apart in spite that no agreement was forged. Of course temptation was always there rearing its ugly head. Friction, however accidental, between our clothed but depraved bodies would automatically linger for long moments. The eye locks that would follow were thrilling yet nerve-racking. Thanks God my son and I would invariably resist with success the potent temptations at least during the days that immediately followed the onset of emotional tensions at home.
My father-in-law although clearly commissioned by my Mark to keep us company seemed oblivious of my husband’s suspicions. Nowhere in our tuzla escort daily encounters had he insinuated about Mark telling him that something wrong was going on at home. It made me think that my husband merely planted him in the house to help squelch a “looming” incestuous encounter. If only they knew…
I called my father-in-law by his first name, Bryan. That was how he wanted it anyway. He was 65 yet he looked more like a Don Juan than a dirty old man. A six-footer, broad-shouldered and sporting a moustache, he was good-looking by the standards of his age. Like Albert he was also fond of touches that he’d imply as harmless. He’d take my hands during casual talks and kiss them or wrap his arm around my waist as he takes me to a walk in the yard to parrot the amorous adventures of his younger years. I was tempted to think that Albert got the “harmless” tricks from him.
Bryan acted at home like a real Don Juan, the legendary womanizer as portrayed by the writers of the classical period. During our light moments he’d asked me to waltz with him or play the piano for him. He’d ask me to play for him the popular versions of music derived from the works of the great masters. He would applaud boisterously after playing for him the renditions.
One late afternoon on a weekend when Mark was out golfing with buddies, Bryan was around as usual to keep us company. He played a Strauss waltz on the stereo, bowed before me like the typical gentleman of a bygone era then took me by the hands to waltz with him in dizzying circles around the floor, me in my green sundress. I was more on fast music dancing than waltzing and for that he forgave me for stepping on his toes more than once. After waltzing around the floor like royals in a ballroom dance, Bryan escorted me back to my seat but not before showering my face with kisses that he (and me too) played down as “harmless.”
Watching in a corner quietly but with fiery eyes was my teen-aged son. He looked unmistakably jealous. Yes, he indeed was jealous of his grandfather, of all people. Who would not laugh at an 18-year old boy with raging hormones getting jealous of a possibly impotent 65-year old grandfather? Oh, it could be that he was just jealous of the extra attention I’d been giving his grandpa not of the possible sexual attraction of either or both. It did not surprise me when kid approached me as his grandpa excused himself for some chore.
“It seems you are carried away by the tricks of that old fool, Mom.”
“What? What did you say?”
“He kisses your face. He pretends to dance but in truth he just wants to feel you. With his cheek on your’s he deliberately pulls you to his chest with his long leg wedged between your thighs. And you seem to enjoy it.”
“Albert, will you please behave? So what if he does? It is just fun. And I don’t think it is any of your business if I’d want to play along with it.”
“Mom, the old man is trying to seduce you. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it.”
“Seduce me? Like what you did,” smirking at him.
“What we did!”
“We are talking of a seduction, Albert. Your granddad is just trying to comfort your mother from the emotional stress she is into.”
“A knight in shining armor comforts a married damsel in emotional distress. Come on, Mom. That is the oldest love trick in the world. I have read that stuff countless of times in my academic books. And I thought you hated romance in academic books?”
“Are you jealous?”
“Mom, it isn’t that I’m jealous. I’m just trying to say that he…
“Yes it is,” quickly interrupting what he had to say.
“Well…yes it is,” shrugging his shoulders in admission while trying to look away.
With his admission of jealousy, we ended the tense-filled moment with me laughing out loud. Out of nowhere Bryan emerged saying, “seems you two are in a light moment.”
“We always are, grandpa.”
“Cool! Well, kid, I need to borrow your mom for a while if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind.”
Ignoring his grandson, Bryan took my left hand with his right, kissed the back of it then slowly pulled me away while putting my arm around his waist. Soon, his right arm was over my shoulder as he walked me away slowly, our hips and thighs rubbing every step of the way. As I looked over my right shoulder, my heart got stabbed by my son’s dagger looks. My gaze couldn’t help drop at his erection, piteously confined in his shorts. I tried to break away from the caresses of my father-in-law not out of repulsion but out of concern for my son’s emotional beating. But before I could do it the older man’s grip on my bare shoulder had tightened. I initially gave thought to Albert’s suspicion but dismissed it anyway.
“I’ll treat you for dinner tonight,” Bryan suggested, “in a place where there is music and there are people,” saying it as he looked down at my worried face at the same time gripping me tightly by the shoulder.
“What about Albert?”
“Oww come on. He is a big boy now. He won’t starve here tuzla escort bayan or wherever he’d be going.”
“Come on, I know you’re just worried about your big boy. I’ll talk to him and tell him.”
“No, Bryan, please not now.” Before I could stop him he was with Albert telling him of his plans. As expected, hell broke loose. A heated argument ensued between the young man and his grandpa forcing me to step between them.
“No! Mom is not going anywhere with you. Not until you pass over my dead body,”
“You act like a jealous lover, kid, not the courteous son that you should be.”
“Yes, I am jealous but I do it for my dad. And I wouldn’t be doing it if you are not touching my mother inappropriately.”
“Do you think of it that way, kid? I thought young people today have more liberal minds than their prudish elders?”
“I may be liberal in many fucking ways but not to the inappropriate touches on my mother!”
“Albert! Stop it!” I had to scream to interrupt him.
I dragged my fuming son away from the older man into his room to cool him down. I locked the door behind us with the thought of preventing my father-in-law to barge in through it in an attempt to put honor to his injured ego. Because I could sense him listening outside the locked door, I pretended to scold my son on his rudeness and lack of respect for his grandfather.
I could clearly see that Albert’s jealousy had turned him on sexually. Stealing glances at his erection I could notice its rage. It was as if it wanted to break-out from its confines. I was half-heartedly reminding him of his improper behavior towards his grandfather when I noticed something on his bed. I came closer and confirmed it was my ankle-length soft-blue silk robe I slipped out from hours earlier.
“What is this thing doing here, Albert?” I asked as I touched the gown from the bed.
“I can explain that, Mom. I resist powerful urges to be near you because it hurts to see you emotionally torn to shreds by Dad’s jealousy.”
“Well, thank you for your concern. But you haven’t answered my question.”
“I see Grandpa touching you. He kisses your hands and face each time he is near you. He rubs his body against yours in a mock dance. You may not understand it, Mom, but seeing you in that light affects my sexuality. I get off each time because my imagination propels things way beyond. My mind flashes images of you and grandpa in bed, bucking and thrashing wildly until your connected bodies explode beyond description.”
“My imagination or suspicion, whichever is right, makes me jerk off. And for that I always long to use either your dirty panties or night dress or both to feel you, to smell you while my mind continue to flash the images of your contorted face, the sensuous arching of your back and the lifting of your ass off the bed repeatedly to receive as much of grandpa’s impaling tool as you possibly could.
“Jesus Christ!” I can’t believe… you are imagining things that way.”
“I do not imagine them. The images force their way into my mind each time I see you and grandpa play around.”
“We are not playing around,” my voice was cracking.
“How do you think I could last seeing the flashes of images of you and grandpa jerking your connected bodies up in mid-air for a long moment then fall back to bed in a tangle of limbs like fastened rag dolls falling from the ceiling?”
“Stop it!” I threw my palms over my ears pretending not to want anything more to hear.
“You just don’t realize how it disturbs me and how it destroys my sexuality. But don’t get me wrong, Mom. I don’t like it to happen for real. The images force their way into my mind and that’s it. My jealousy destroys me.”
I couldn’t grasp for any more words. His revelation made me speechless and, worse, made me so weak. I had to hold on to the back of a chair fronting his computer desk. After a long moment of silence my son was behind me, draping the long robe around my back, the same soft-blue silk robe he confessed he jerked off with.
“Put back the traces of your body on this gown, Mom. Put back the same heat and fragrance that I have taken away from it. Slip into it.”
The ritual he wanted to play to sensationalize his fetish sounded too silly for me to play along with. Yet, as if hypnotized, I did what I was told and more. With my back still to him, I slid off my shoulders the green sundress from under the thin robe draped around me, letting it drop to the floor then stepped out of it. From behind, my son helped me slip my arms into the silk robe with only my panties on. The touch of the cloth was erotic. Unconsciously, I pulled it tightly around my almost naked body to rub and feel the love traces that my potent, Adonis-like son had planted on it.
Albert meanwhile continued to dramatize his fetish. He took my fallen sundress from the floor, covered his face with it and inhaled from it. I stood watching, speechless and virtually breathless. escort tuzla
Soon, me and my son were into each other’s arms kissing wildly, hands flying over heads, backs, asses and thighs. The ruffled sundress trapped between our bodies went down with us as we fell on our knees with mouths, tongues and bodies passionately entwined.
Kissing, nibbling and biting we did until our lungs cried out for attention. We broke the steaming kiss to catch our breaths, gazed into each other then kissed again, torridly, as wildly and as untamed as ever causing us to fall on the floor, he on top of me. He bathed my face with burning kisses, nibbled my earlobe and nipped the side of my neck. His hands and body feasted with his fetish – the touch of his mother’s robe – this time with me in it.
Our mouths and tongues were dueling in reckless abandon when, suddenly, loud knocks at the locked door came blasting in with the sound of Bryan’s voice booming.
“Is everything all right in there?”
It took me several seconds to rip off my mouth from my son’s causing a high pitched gasp to blare out quite loudly.
More knocks at the door came before I could utter the breathless words.
“Yes…aahhhh… it’s all right…Bryan… ”
I had the feeling that my father-in-law was as smart as his son, Mark, in recognizing unusual behavior let alone, unusual sounds – love sounds, to be exact. Yet his presence outside the locked door did not extinguish the wildfire of passion that was ignited between me and my son. We carried on with the mad kissing, exploring each other’s sensitive parts as we went spinning on the floor, tumbling small pieces of furniture.
“Open the door, Christine,” thundered Bryan’s voice after several jolting knocks, again interrupting the frenzied kissing.
“I’ll…take care…of this problem, Bryan.”
“Just open the door.”
“Jesus…aahhhh…I have to talk… to him,” breathing into my son’s ear while on top of him.
“Ignore him, Mom, or I’ll take it that you care for him,” tightening his grip on me while showering my neck with hot kisses.
“Don’t… be crazy… we wouldn’t, aahhhh, go this far if, aahhhh…” He suppressed my breathy words by putting my mouth on his. I kissed back, hard and intense causing my shoulder-length brown hair to fall and eclipse our glued faces from the view of anyone sneaking a peek if there was one. More knocks at the door came blasting to jolt us. The kiss broke once more but our faces remained covered with hair as our wet mouths remained close and lightly touching.
“Please honey…aahhhh…let me shoo him away…aahhhh. I’ll come back to you… I promise,” nibbling his lips as I exhaled into his mouth. We kissed, broke up then kissed again under cover of hair before the next jolting knocks came.
Frustrating as it was we jumped off the carpet and rushed to the locked door. Blaring angry words from the inside, I told my father-in-law to leave us alone.
“This is…ahhhhh…our problem, Bryan. It is not… ahhhhh…any of your business to interfere. It is me who has to discipline my son not…ahhhhh…anyone else.”
“Just want to see if everything’s okay.”
“Everything’s…all right… “
Albert took my waist from behind, kissing my neck and robed shoulders. His ravishing mouth and face caused my ruffled robe to slide down my shoulders, exposing my back to his oral attacks. I could hardly suppress a gasp when I threw my head back in response. My son slowly pulled me away from the door, without breaking the mad kisses. His hands groped all over my front, over and under my messy robe. I fell into the bed face down with my son on my back, his hands smashing at my tits. His stiff tent humped wildly at my panty-covered ass, no different from a dog humping his bitch in heat. Before I could warn him of his grandfather’s presence outside the locked door, he had stepped out of his shorts and boxers, had raised the love-battered robe up my waist and had slid my damp panties down to my ankles to step out from. Soon, my son was penetrating me from behind.
Spreading my arms into the bed I grabbed a pillow and buried my face into it. His invading rock-hard penis, meanwhile, easily penetrated my well-lubricated pussy. He grabbed the other pillow, placed it between my belly and the edge of the bed before madly intensifying his thrusts.
Locked into a savage, rhythmic coupling my son and I copulated like animals, oblivious to everything except to the intense passion burning inside our thrashing bodies. The more I squirmed and bucked under him, the harder he pounded into my pussy from behind, returning my wild abandon with equal if not more powerful thrusts.
He sucked and bit the sides of my neck and shoulders as his pounding went crazy and unceasing, rubbing my clit to seventh heaven. The madness and the wickedness of it all sent me into a mind-shattering orgasm, blinding whatever was left of my usually alert senses. It was a helpless orgasm, me crying and squealing on the pillow and hands grasping at the sheet like I was clinging on to dear life. At that instant of time I would have sold my soul to the devil if only to have the carnal act continue!
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