Mother & Son: A Love Story Pt. 09

One of my favorite memories of that time occurred in early June, just as Mom was entering her eighth month. It was a lovely day -- the temperature perfect and no humidity. Despite having a great swollen belly and little stamina and to hear her tell it, all the grace of a billy-goat on skates, Mom had wanted to take a walk up the hill to visit Grandpa Tom's grave. We carried some fresh flowers for his stone and a picnic lunch, planning to enjoy a quiet and intimate afternoon together as we had some many times before.

Mom was wearing a skimpy halter-top, fitting more snugly than ever as her breasts had grown heavier -- swollen with milk, making her bountiful breasts overflow the meager top. Mom was also wearing a loose, wraparound skirt that did nothing to hide the enormity of her swollen belly. By the time we reached the family cemetery, Mom was pretty winded, her face flushed with exertion. While I tended to Grandpa Tom's plot, Mom rested atop her father's gravestone and brought him up to speed on the latest happenings.

"...and I swear, Daddy -- little Matthew Thomas looks more like John everyday! And he has your eyes too, Daddy...just like John does." Mom smiled down at me, her hand resting on her stomach, toes dangling just above the grass around the stone. Her eyes widened suddenly in surprise and she let out a long whoosh of air. "And this one, Daddy -- I swear your next grandchild must be a football player the way it kicks!"

With her other hand, Mom stroked the smooth marble of her father's tombstone and said, "I wish you could be here, Daddy and see how wonderful things are -- to see how good my son treats me and loves me. You'd be proud of him, Daddy -- proud of him and me and the way we love each other." Mom let go a wistful sigh and continued, "I wish you could be here and be a part of us -- a family that loves each other more than anything -- that loves like you and Mama Polly loved each other."

Mom's gaze went off into nowhere for a moment and I knew she was thinking of her own youth and the few precious loving moments she and her father had shared. A new shade of red colored Mom's face -- blushing not from exertion, but from arousal as she recollected making love to her father. Through these wonderful and exciting months of Mom's pregnancy, I had come to anticipate Mom's urges and I wasn't surprised when she emerged from her reverie, eyes gleaming with need and a sexual flush spreading quickly from her face to her chest.

"Son," Mom said softly as she reached down and did something to her dress that made it fall away, revealing her full and shapely legs. "John, I need you!" Mom whispered as she slowly spread her legs, her wild and unruly bush revealed in the shadow of her swollen belly, barely hinting at the wet and pink flesh of her motherly cunt.

I moved to knee between her widespread legs, looking over her large stomach to smile up at her as I said, "I love you too, Mom!" I trailed fingers up Mom's ankle, making her quiver as I tickled her knee and then teased the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Mom let her head fall back and her lips curl in a pleased sneer as I slid my fingers into her bush, slipping into the split of her labia and spreading her slick lips apart to reveal the hot and slick flesh hidden there. I marveled at the wonder that was and is my mother's vagina. I could not recall a single time during her entire pregnancy when I had touched her and she wasn't soaking wet and seemingly on fire.

I eased my middle finger into Mom's sopping cunt, slowly rotating it as I sought out Mom's secret spots, making her squirm as I probed and massaged her inner flesh. I inhaled her strong scent as it wafted through the air, my nostrils flaring as I breathed in her intoxicating aroma -- my cock hardening already in my jeans.

Like a man dying of thirst, I pressed my face into Mom's wet, hairy pussy, sucking up her sexual nectar as my tongue began to roam over her slick aroused flesh. I could feel her blood pulsing through her labia as they swelled and blossomed wider and Mom's taste was sweet and vibrant as never before as if filled with the same energy and life as she was carrying deep in her womb.

Mom's legs came awkwardly up to hang over my shoulders and I was wedged between her luscious thighs and her fertile belly and as I licked her delicious pussy, sending tremors of pleasure racing through her body, I could feel our child kicking -- somehow joining in on our happiness in its own way.

"Eat me, John," Mom moaned in a keening voice that in her ecstasy threatened to fall apart into simple babble. I made love to my mother with my mouth and fingers, seeking out her G-spot and discovering her erect clitoris, swollen and throbbing, teasing with my tongue. "Lick Momma's pussy -- make Momma cummmm!" she cried as she wiggled on her marble seat.

Mom's thighs tightened against the sides of my face while her fingers curled up in my hair -- getting a grip to hold onto as I lapped her cunt towards orgasm. With my free hand, I reached around to support Mom in the small of the back -- a tricky thing to do with all the twisting and scooting around she was doing atop her father's tombstone.

"See, Daddy? See how good your grandson loves his mother," Mom moaned. "See how he makes your little girl cummmmm!" A torrent of pussy cream flowed from Mom's cunt -- pouring over my face faster than I could lick it up, rivulets running down my chin, dripping from my cheeks, her scent making me almost dizzy with desire

Mom let out a scream that echoed through the green hills as I simultaneously found her G-spot and began gently and steadily sucking on her stiff clitoris. Her legs fell away from my face as she lost control of her limbs. Mom seemed to be trying to push my entire head back into the womb as she quivered and rocked against my face -- a gusher of cum -- hot streamers of pussy juice sprayed my face.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, Mom pushed me away, gasping desperately for breath and I fell back to a sitting position, staring happily at my mother, legs spread wide, thighs gleaming with her juices, jerking as little waves of orgasmic aftershocks rippled through her blossoming body, punctuated by little spurts of cunt cream splashing onto Grandpa Tom's headstone. Mom was the epitome of erotic motherhood as she sat there, an incestuous mother lost in rapture, pussy juice gleaming wetly on the marble stonework. Somewhere during my making love to her, she had opened her halter top and her heavy, hanging breasts were heaving -- nipples huge and distended, thick drop of milky fluid dripping from them.

I heaved myself to my feet and came to her, letting her shaky arms go around my shoulders as I kissed my mother hard and long, my tongue snaking into her mouth to share her own taste with her -- Mom pausing to lick her cream from my cheeks and then share it with me, her son and husband. One hand dropped and busied itself with my belt and then I was flat on the ground in front of Grandpa Tom's stone, Mom facing away from me, leaning forward, bracing her hands against her father's headstone while resting her huge belly on my legs as she took my erection inside her and began to fuck me with as much vigor as an eight months pregnant woman could muster.

I could only moan with happiness as I felt Mom's tender and fiery flesh move up and down on my cock, hearing her whimper with pleasure as she told her father over and over what a fine motherfucker her son was. Somehow I levered myself up, wrapping an arm around Mom's soft and sweaty body to caress her belly while the other played with her milk laden tits, feeling the warm, life-giving liquid flow through my fingers as I massaged and pinched her heavy breasts.

Too soon for me, I lost it and began to cum inside Mom's wonderful pussy, savoring her sobs of pleasure as my hot semen began her orgasm anew, her hot flesh milking my seed. We wound up with Mom lying atop me, her pregnant belly rising to the sky as I slipped out of her, holding her tight in my embrace, both of us basking in the warmth of the sun and the intensity of our incestuous love.

Mom's obstetrician had pegged July 15 as her due date, but we were in for a surprise. The evening of July 3, we had retired relatively early. Now in her ninth month, Mom tired very easily and was in some serious discomfort. To help her relax in the evenings, I would usually gently lick her pussy to orgasm which seemed to help her sleep better. That night, Mom wanted us to sixty-nine and so we wound up in bed lying on our sides -- me happily running my tongue over Mom's wet pussy, tenderly nibbling at her clitoris and licking the sweet cunt cream from her wet flesh. Mom was hungrily sucking on my cock, her tongue a maddening dervish swirling around the head of my cock.

Nestled between us, her swollen belly felt almost feverish with new life and I would stroke it softly as it seemed to bring Mom some comfort. I tried to control my orgasm, but once a delicious flood of her juices washed over my mouth and lips and I heard her happy sighs of a languorous orgasm wafting in my ears, I couldn't resist any longer and with my face pressed to her delicious cunt, began to cum as I gave a muffled moan of pleasure. Mom eagerly drank my hot sperm, relishing the taste of her own son's semen.

We went to sleep soon after, me rubbing Mom's aching back, sharing a last goodnight kiss, the taste of my seed still on my mother's lips. Then in the early morning hours of July 4, Mom woke up me up to let me know it was time -- that her water had broken. I don't remember much of the drive from our home deep in the hills to the local hospital, just Mom sitting serenely in the passenger seat urging me to stay calm and that she loved me very, very much.

Despite any concerns the doctor had about Mom having a baby at her age, her labor was short and without complications -- in the pain of delivery, she only called me a motherfucker three times, much to the amusement of the doctor and nurses present, most of whom were oblivious to our familial relationship.

At 8:30 in the morning on the Fourth of July, Mom gave birth to a healthy seven pound daughter that we named Polly after Mom's grandmother, Mama Polly. Forgive me if I am prejudiced, but Polly was the loveliest baby I had or ever will see. The nurses would tell you it was probably gas or something, but I swear when I first held my daughter and spoke to her that she smiled up at me.

That evening, as Mom slept, our daughter in her arms, I watched them as the sky outside lit up with fireworks and I felt a sense of rightness greater than I had ever felt before. Over the past few years, as Mom and I had realized our love for each other, with each step we had taken to become a couple, it had simply felt...right. Now I felt as if all the pieces had fallen into place. The woman who had bore me and loved me both as a son and as a man, now wore my ring and we had made a child together. Our love was only strengthened and increased by our deep feelings for Deb and Molly and the life that we had all four truly brought into this world and that was a part of the rightness I felt now.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Mom whispered, her voice weary, but happy. I glanced up from our baby in her arms and Mom's eyes were gleaming, tears of joy threatening to fall.

I leaned over and kissed Mom gently and stroked her face. "She's the loveliest thing I've ever seen, Mom," I replied. "You did good."

"No, son, we did good -- together, we took our love and made something more wonderful than I ever thought possible." The tears began to flow as she kissed me again and then said softly, "I love you, John. We've made a baby together. I can't believe all that we've hoped for has happened. It feels like I'm living out a fairy tale -- my greatest dreams come to life."

I kissed away her tears, "It's not a dream, Mom, it's our life and I promise you, we'll live happily ever after." Mom smiled up happily at me, her eyes growing glassy as exhaustion overtook her. I whispered, "I love you, Mom," and kissed her on the forehead and then kissed our daughter likewise. Both made little satisfied sighs and slept while I continued to sit there and watch them -- love for them both overflowing from my heart.

At some point that evening I went down on my knees and thanked God for all my blessings and I asked him for the strength to continue to be the son and husband and now father that I needed to be and even though the future was unknown to me, I knew the rightness of the path I was following and that the journey would be wonderful.

Once we were back home and settled in, it seemed even more right. Yes, our lives changed radically from the moment we brought Polly home -- how could it not, but it was all change for the better. We might bitch about the dirty diapers and the occasional all night fussiness and the sometimes seemingly endless exhaustion that comes with raising a baby, but that all seemed inconsequential as the very act of being parents seemed to bring a new level of intimacy between my mother and I. We found an even deeper sense of oneness that seemed to increase our love and yes, our lust for each other.

True, we probably slowed down a little in our lovemaking -- at least during Polly's first couple of years, but we were still passionate with each other and any loss of physical contact just made us that much hungrier for each other -- a hunger we sated with a vengeance whenever opportunity came knocking.

Mom once asked me if I ever regretted us having a child or at least having one so soon after we married. "With a child in the house, we had to give up all that wild sex in every room of the house, you know," Mom said teasingly.

"Well, I don't know about that, Mom," I replied. "I thought we just tried to plan our wild sex a little bit in advance. If I wanted to fuck you on the kitchen table, we just had to wait until Polly went to sleep or off to school...same if we were making love in front of the fireplace and all those times we got caught..." I shrugged and added, "We always taught her that sex was something natural and beautiful that two people in love shared, not something dirty. Polly never seemed to be bothered by that."

Mom laughed and said, "Well, she really didn't like it the first time she caught us under the Christmas tree."

I winced and shook my head as I recalled that. It must have been Polly's fourth or fifth Christmas and she'd gotten up to see if Santa had visited yet and found her mother and me under the Christmas tree making love -- our favorite Christmas tradition. Mom was underneath me, her filmy gown spread out around her and I was naked, buried deep inside her.

Polly just stared at us disapprovingly and said we really should do that in bed. She turned around and stomped back to her bedroom. The next morning when we came down, we found all of Polly's presents carefully stacked on the far side of the tree -- as far away from the site of our naughty deed as possible...a new Christmas tradition that she continued for years.

No, we didn't carry on like naked sex crazed maniacs in front of our daughter, but we never tried to disguise our passion for each other either. Mom and I have been and always will be very openly affectionate in public. We tried to raise Polly to be accepting and open minded and though sometimes that was a bit complicated like explaining why her brother had a different Mommy and another Mommy too, Polly never dwelt on the details, but accepted it all serenely as simply the way things were. We knew that it would be a bit tougher explaining how her mother and father could also be mother and son, but that would wait until later years when she would be mature enough to understand it all.

We were blessed, especially in those early years, watching our beautiful golden haired daughter grow and explore the world around her, fascinated by even the smallest discoveries the world had to offer and helped us regain our own sense of wonder in so many ways. I defy anyone to not be changed in watching a young girl's awed face the first time she watches a butterfly emerge from its cocoon. With each day she has been in our lives, she has been a blessing, making a truly wonderful life even better. When you add to that the additional joys that Tommy brought into our lives, we could truly believe in the possibility of living "happily ever after."

Of course, life doesn't truly work that way and while mostly life was and is wonderful, there have been some dark and terrible moments. In those early and heady years of raising our family, none of us dreamed that tragedy was as near to us as it was.

To be continued...