Previous chapters don't have as much raw sex in them, but there is a lot of character and storyline development going on that will make the story more interesting and paves the way for the rest of the novel. I have the novel complete and plan to release it a chapter per week. I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think in the comments.
* * * Chapter 4 * * *
Lilith:
Driving away in my car, I smile and sigh, having fulfilled my fantasy. Not only did I discover that Mark does indeed have a fat cock, but I actually got to take him inside me. It made me feel powerful to have control as I did. I had him under my thumb, and we did things the way I wanted. Suddenly the inside of my car feels too hot. I put my hand between my legs and remember that I am riding commando. I rub my finger over my outer labia as I drive. Instead of satisfying my need, my experience at Mark’s house only intensifies it.
Turning my car toward home, I don’t know what I can do with the rest of my evening. Robert’s not home, and I'm still horny. If Brad is home, maybe visiting with him will get my mind off sex and help me cool down. But if he went to Charles’s house, there’s a good chance he’ll be out until very late. Maybe I’ll draw a hot bath with lots of bubbles and candles and then get out that vibrator.
That sounds kind of sad.
I pull into the garage and shut the engine off. Entering my house it feels so empty and lonely. I go into the bathroom and turn the hot water on in the tub. The downstairs bath is the only one that has a tub, so I head upstairs to grab my favorite vibrator. Bath bubbles added to the tub fill the room with a clean, fragrant scent, and the multitude of candles illuminate it with a soft yellow glow. I turn on some sexy, slow jazz music and drop my dress on a chair as I step into the tub. Gliding down into the hot water and luxurious bubbles, I close my eyes with a sigh and enjoy the sensations.
Sleepiness settles over me as I relax. A smile comes to my lips as I reminisce about my evening in Mark’s house. I can hardly believe that I pulled it off. I practically led that brute around by the nose. Should I continue to flirt with him at work? Oh yeah. It will be even more fun now that the ice has been broken. My reverie is shattered as the bathroom door swings wide and Brad steps in. I’m not sure who is more startled— Brad or me. Looking down at myself, I see I am adequately covered by all the bubbles. My skin has a golden glow, in the candle light, contrasted by dark shadow. The contrast between light and shadow enhancing the softness of my feminine form. The round globes of the tops of my breasts are just visible. Relieved, I smile at Brad and ask, “Don’t people knock anymore?”
His eyes roam over me, seeing what he can see, and he shoots back, “I think that went out about the same time people stopped locking the door when they go into the bathroom.”
“Touché,” I reply, embarrassed. “I didn’t expect you home before midnight. Was everything okay? Didn’t you have a good time?”
“It was OK,” Brad says without enthusiasm. He looks from me to the floor beside the tub. My eyes follow his line of sight, and I see the large dildo vibrator lying unused on the bathroom floor. Too late to do anything about it now. Without saying a word about the embarrassing item lying on the floor, he steps to the toilet and unzips. He does not usually urinate in the bathroom when I am present. It takes him a moment to get a stream started, but when he does, it sounds like a fire hose.
I have not seen Brad’s cock since he passed puberty. Of course I've seen the bulge in his pants, but now I have a good view of the real thing while he urinates. It is a really nice piece— more girth than his father’s.
“Charles’s sister. No interest, huh?”
Brad glances at me with a look of exasperation. He must be holding out hope to get back together with Linda. He is nothing if not loyal. “I didn’t fuck her, if that’s what you mean,” he replies sarcastically. He shakes the last few drops from his penis, puts it back in his pants, and bends to flush the commode. I imagine him pushing his cock roughly into a tight, young pussy. Then I imagine him ramming rapidly in and out and moaning. He has the cutest moan when he sleeps.
“Well, you’re a good-looking guy. Don’t be discouraged. Linda will probably come crawling back to you when she’s had enough of inferior guys. She’d be crazy not to. There are lots of pretty girls who would love to have a piece of you,” I say, consoling him and hoping to crack open a window to think about someone other than Linda.
“You’re not getting enough?” Brad nudges the dildo on the floor with his toe.
“Huh?” I ask before looking down to see what he is talking about. “Oh,” I say, blushing. I had already forgotten about that. Since the dildo is waterproof, I grab it and dump it in the tub with me, getting it out of sight. The movement brings my left breast out of the water for an instant. Brad is looking straight at me when it happens, and I see his eyes go wide. The bulge in his crotch begins to grow before my very eyes. I don’t know how to save this situation, so I just slide down a little farther in the tub while Brad continues to stare at me.
“What are you staring at?” I snap, more sharply than I intend.
“Sorry. But you must know I can’t help but appreciate them,” he says in contrition.
“No, that’s OK. It’s quite flattering, actually. I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Now it’s my turn to be contrite.
Finally it gets awkward for Brad, and he announces, “I’m going to bed,” and turns and walks out of the bathroom.
Well, I think I’m done here. Standing, I grab a towel and dry myself off. Looking down at my breasts, I imagine what Brad saw of his mother. I’m embarrassed when I think about it. It’s not proper for a boy to see his mum like that. Dressed in a terry robe, I head upstairs, intending to go to bed myself. I am thinking about having finally fucked Mark, the security guard and I get tingly just thinking about it. I need to cum again, because thinking about Mark’s fat cock makes me horny. Maybe I can still rub one out.
Walking past Brad’s bedroom door, I hear strange noises coming from inside. Pausing to listen, I realize he is in his room wanking off. Did I inspire that? This might be an opportunity to avenge myself for the embarrassment he caused me. Gripping the doorknob, I quietly twist, and the knob turns easily. Pushing the door open, I find Brad sitting up in bed with the sheet down to his knees. He is naked and has a bottle of sunscreen lotion on the bed beside him. His fist is wrapped around his fat, well-lubricated cock, and he is pumping furiously.
“Hey!” He lets go of his erection and scrambles to cover himself. His large dick flails as he does so; the head is purple, and veins stand out. The thought flashes through my head that it looks angry. When he finally gets under the covers, he is panting and red-faced.
Now Brad is angry. “What’s this all about?”
I smile, try to look innocent, and say, “I saw the light on in here, and just wanted to tell you good night and find out what you would like for breakfast in the morning.” I can’t keep the smile off my face, having exacted revenge for my embarrassment. Brad doesn’t say anything. I’m not even sure if he really heard me. Coming farther into his room, I sit on the edge of his bed right beside the raging cock he just covered up. I think about asking if he was thinking about me when he was jerking off. But no, that should be off limits. “So, what’ll it be?” I ask.
My robe is tied at the waist, open a few inches between my bare cleavage. Brad’s eyes are fixed there, not answering my question. I think about saying that my eyes are up here, but I enjoy teasing him like this. “So what is your pleasure?” I ask, trying to bring him around, realizing now the unintended double entendre.
“What did you have in mind?” Brad asks hesitantly.
“Well, I was thinking either my egg-and-sausage casserole or— I know you like French toast and bacon— but you can have whatever you like.”
“Oh, breakfast. Right,” he says. “The egg-and-sausage casserole will be fine.” He is looking through me with a thousand-yard stare.
Brad is sitting up in bed, looking at me, and as time passes it is getting uncomfortable. His breathing has returned to normal, and he no longer seems angry. He acts unsure of what to say, but he doesn’t look like he wants me to leave. Out of the blue he asks, “How was the Italian food?”
The question doesn’t make sense to me at first. My mind is not in that universe, so much has happened tonight. Then it hits me what he is asking. He remembered that I brought home Italian food for supper. Coming back down to earth, I say, “It was good. Can I warm some up for you?”
“No, no, that’s OK. We had pizza for supper,” he says. Then we are back to staring at each other in awkward silence. He is staring at the narrow expanse of my exposed chest, and I am staring at his crotch. I can’t see much of a bulge remaining, but wrinkles in the bedspread may obscure it. Or perhaps the fright I caused by walking in on him made him shrivel up. But I am intrigued. I want to see it again. I want to feel it, heft its weight, see if my fingers can reach around his girth. I wonder if Brad has ever had a blowjob. I wonder if I could get that fat thing into my mouth.
I should get up and go to my room, but I can’t bring myself to move. Even though it is getting awkward to stay, I cannot leave. Does Brad wish I would leave? He continues to stare at my chest hungrily. Reaching into my robe, I absentmindedly scratch the underside of my right breast. When I do, the opening in my robe spreads a little more. I glance down— nipple still hidden, though the areola peeks out. He stares even more intently. My being there somehow feels less awkward now.
I really want to see his dick. The words pass through my mind: “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” That is what I said to my cousin when I was twelve and he was fifteen. He was more than happy to oblige. I got the better end of the deal; I was a skinny girl, all legs. My hips hadn’t developed, my boobs looked like angry mosquito bites, and what was to become my pussy, was just an ugly slit between my legs. He, on the other hand, had a little pubic hair and a respectable little prick. He offered that I could suck on him if I wanted, but that sounded gross to me. I was afraid he would pee in my mouth. Coming back to the present, I look up into Brad’s face, but his gaze is still anchored on my chest. Just a little movement and a nipple might pop free.
“Can I see you?” The words tumble out, just above a whisper. Immediately I wish I could take them back. I can see in Brad’s face that he heard me and understood my request.
“Wh-what?” Brad stammers.
There is no going back now. “I just want to see your dick,” I say, a little louder but still sheepishly. I feel the blood rushing to my face and know it is red.
“You’re my momma,” he states incredulously. I cannot tell if he is just surprised or horrified. I know we are crossing a line. This is a bad idea. I should just get up, go to my room, and sleep it off. Maybe we can wake up in the morning and pretend it didn’t happen. Or I could say I was drunk and didn’t know what I was doing. But one part of me does not want to stop. I want to follow this through. I look into Brad’s eyes, trying to read him. As I do, a trace of a smile comes to his lips. I think he is intrigued.
“So? You don’t find me attractive?” I ask, filling the silence. A broad grin spreads over his face. He sits up a little straighter. His body language says anticipation. He must have read my mind. “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine…”
“OK,” he says resolutely. He has accepted my challenge. Brad slowly pushes the covers down off his lap with a flourish. Before us stands his perfect, semi-erect penis. Without a moment’s hesitation, I pull the lapel of my robe aside, and my right breast pops free. Stroking it, I feel the nipple harden and protrude. Rolling it between thumb and forefinger, it grows to its full length. Brad’s dick glistens with the lotion he had been using to masturbate. It is slowly growing in length and girth. He wraps his hand around it and gives it a few slow strokes. In a tit-for-tat (no pun intended), I open my robe fully, exposing both breasts. I push them together and wobble them in my hands. Brad watches with growing excitement and anticipation. He's never seen breasts like these up close.
“I want to touch it,” I say, looking to Brad for approval. He is dazed and gives a slight nod. Reaching over, I wrap my fingers firmly around him. It feels like a living being, hot and pulsing in my hand. I trace along the underside with my finger. Brad groans. I badly want to put it in my mouth, to suck on it. But that might be going too far. When I set it down, it does not settle on the bed, as before. But it is stiff enough to stand out, unsupported. I scoot even closer and take Brad’s hand, placing his palm on my breast. He squeezes gently; his palm feels electric against my nipple. A moan escapes his slack jaw.
Brad brings his other hand to my other breast and gently probes both at the same time. Now it is my turn to moan. I can feel my pussy getting very wet. Reaching under my bottom, I run a finger up and down my slit. Every time it passes near my clit, I jump. Brad’s bedroom begins to smell like sex. I insert first one finger, then two, deep into my cunt. Pumping them in and out, Brad watches in amazement.
Pulling my wet fingers out of my pussy, I reach over and wrap my hand around Brad’s steel rod, again. My fingers do not reach completely around his girth. I run my hand up and down his length. The juice from my arousal, together with the residual lotion he applied while masturbating, allows my hand slide easily. Brad throws his head back and closes his eyes. “Oh man! Oh fuck! Oh man!” I slow my stroking and decrease the pressure, trying to edge him. Knowing he is young, he probably won’t last long.
We aren’t kidding anyone anymore.
The thought slams into me like a fist to the chest: I’m thinking about fucking my own son.
This is wrong. This is insane. I’m his mother. I changed his diapers, kissed his scraped knees, packed his school lunches. And now I’m dripping at the idea of riding him until he pumps me full.
I should stop. I should run. But my robe is already falling open and the hunger is louder than the shame.
I straddle him anyway, heart hammering so hard I can hear it in my ears. Forgive me, I think, to no one and everyone, then I sink down. The stretch is immediate, shocking. He’s big and I’m taking every inch of what used to be my little boy inside the body that made him.
My heart is suddenly filled with love for Brad. It’s a strange mix of maternal love and romantic love. I am proud of the man that he has become, and at the same time, proud of his masculine body. He is gentle, inquisitive, yet strong and fiercely competitive. He is fully sheathed inside of me, and we are joined together by our sex. My pussy flutters around him like it’s celebrating a homecoming.
It strikes me how much this is like my experience earlier today with Mark, yet how unlike that experience. We are actually joined together in the same position. With Mark, I totally dominated him. But in spite of the fact that I am on top and controlling the movements, somehow it feels like Brad is in control. Instead of dominating, I feel more like a teacher.
“Mom, you are… beautiful.” Brad says, his voice ragged. His eyes are fastened on my open robe. “I admit that I have had fantasies, but the reality far exceeds my expectations. I am blown away.”
The affirmation feels great. Bending down over Brad, I kiss him on the forehead. In doing so, my breasts come to rest on his chest. Brad wraps his strong arms about me, pulling me hard into him. Our lips come together and he kisses me, not with a son’s kiss, but fiercely. We break and reinitiate the kiss repeatedly. Holding his head in my hands, my tongue reaches out in exploration. He accepts me into his mouth.
I start moving, and Brad emits a low moan. My movements are slow at first, because I’m terrified and because I’m greedy. Every roll of my hips drags a new wave of pleasure through me. Brad’s enthusiasm erases the guilt that I was feeling at first. We are, after all, two consenting adults, each consumed by passion, from a foundation of love. He isn’t pulling away, and he isn’t horrified.
Our lips part and he’s staring up at me, eyes wide, lips parted, whispering “Mom” like a prayer. He looks at me like I am a goddess. It has been a long time since I felt this loved. I grind harder and his hips move in concert with mine. He feels perfect. He feels like he was carved to fit me.
I speed up. The bed creaks. Skin slaps. My breasts move against his chest, the sensation sending showers of sparks to my core. Brad emits a barely audible grunt with each thrust.
Yes, I’m his mother. And right now I’m the woman who’s going to teach him exactly how good he can feel. I’m the woman who gets to have him the deepest, the best. Let the world call it sin. This is sacred.
I feel him swelling inside me and know he is close. “Come for me, baby,” I breathe against his mouth. “Give Mommy everything.” He loses it instantly. His hips jerk up, back arching clean off the bed, and then he’s cumming, hot, thick pulses flooding me so deep I feel each one like a brand.
“Oh fuck, mom. I can’t hold it any longer.” My son is marking me from the inside. I did this. I made him lose control. I made him need me this much.
He keeps pulsing, keeps spilling, until it’s leaking out around his shaft, until his belly is slick with us.
His cock softens and shrinks within me, yet we remain joined together, panting. I grin like a lunatic. I stay on top of him, chest heaving, pussy still clenching, aching, yet strangely fulfilled, in spite of the fact that I didn’t cum.
I look down at his stunned, beautiful face and something wild and triumphant blooms in my chest. I was afraid I’d broken something sacred tonight, but I didn’t; I claimed it.
I press a soft, filthy kiss to his parted lips and whisper, voice trembling with wonder and ownership: “You’re mine now, sweetheart. And I’m never, ever letting you go.”
“Mmmm” Brad groans.
Then I climb off him, legs trembling, his cum already sliding warm down my thigh, and I feel like a queen. I’m not guilty anymore. I’m radiant.