Becoming the Man

Many thanks, once again, to tangentjoker for editing this story.

This story is about incest and contains an episode of non-consent sex.

Parts of this story are from my own experience. A woman I loved had the same hang-ups as the mother in this story. I wish I had handled it better.

The rest of the story is fiction; it is not an autobiography.

I raped my mother, that's how it all began. I threw her down on her bed. I shoved my hard cock into her pussy. I fucked her hard. I plunged my stiff prick into her.

She was crying. Even as she, unwillingly, started to respond to my thrusts. The sobs and tears on her face did not deter me. I pumped my cum into her, into her hot cunt.

I had come home early from work. It was a summer job between graduation from high school and the start of college. I found my best friend, we had been buddies for years, in bed with my mother. Both naked, arms and legs wrapped around each other, kissing passionately. She had carelessly left her bedroom door open.

I went berserk. I told him to get out. I chased him from the bedroom. I threw his clothes after him. I watched, in a rage, as he fumbled into his pants. I pushed him out the back door to finish dressing in the yard.

I went back to my mother's bedroom. She had put on a robe. I found her standing at the bedroom door, distraught. I pushed her back into the room. That's when I raped her.

I left her on the bed, sobbing. I went to the kitchen. I found the whiskey bottle we kept in the cupboard. I poured a big drink, took a sip, then dumped the rest out. It wouldn't have helped.

I went back to the bedroom. She was still on the bed, lying on her side curled up, her face buried in her pillow. I could hear muffled sobs.

"Get up!" I told her. "We need to talk."

I went back to the kitchen. My rage was starting to subside, but not by much.

It was an hour before my mother appeared. Her robe was belted and closed to her neck. She sat opposite me at the table, silently.

"Would you like a drink?" I asked.

She nodded, still silent. She was looking down at the table, not at me. I fixed her a drink, a strong one, and brought it to her. I was a lot calmer. The wait had helped me over the worst part of the white knuckled rage. My emotions, however, were a mess of resentment, smoldering anger and self-pity. Overlaying everything was fear. Fear, not about the consequences of my actions, rather fear for myself. Fear about my reaction. The fact was I had gone off the deep end.

We sat, silently, for what seemed like hours. I finally forced myself to speak. "I shouldn't have done that."

She hadn't lifted her gaze from the table. She kept her eyes averted from me. I brought her another drink. She took a big swallow, her eyes still averted.

"I'll leave if you want me too," I said into the silence.

She looked up at me. A startled expression on her face. She broke down again, sobbing uncontrollably.

"No! Not you, too. You can't leave me, you're all I have." Her speech was broken, disjointed. I had trouble deciphering what she was saying through her sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." I was able to make out.

I stood. I went to her. I put my hand on her back. I rubbed her. I tried to soothe her. She turned to me, still seated, threw her arms around me, and pressed her face against my belly. She was wracked with tears as I helped her to her feet. She threw her arms around my neck, buried her face against my shoulder, and stayed that way as the sobs subsided.

"Why don't you lie down, Mom," I spoke softly to her, my rage had turned to shame and worry. Worry for her. I led her to her bedroom and helped her lie down. I sat on the side of the bed. I rubbed her shoulders and back until she seemed to doze off. I left her then. I looked in on her an hour, or so, later. She was sleeping.

I'm Edward, usually called Ed. I was eighteen years old. 6-1". 190 pounds. I was well built, but not very athletic. I worked after school, so I didn't have much chance to play team sports. Actually, I wasn't much of a team player, anyway. I did do some distance running. I was planning on college in the fall. But I didn't plan on any athletic activities there.

I had never been very successful with the girls at school. I was very shy, and the girls most interesting to me were interested in the jocks. I was almost a virgin. Maybe that is what made me berserk. I wasn't getting laid, at all, and my best friend was fucking my mother.

I only had a few friends while in high school. I now I had one less. By the way, I chased him down the next day. I made it very plain to him that if I heard anything about my mother there would be severe consequences. He knew me well enough to take it seriously.

My mother's name was Elizabeth. For friends she was Beth. She was an attractive woman, but not beautiful. She was beautiful to me, though. At age 38, she was 5' 5" and slim, weighing about 120 pounds. She has a nice butt and grapefruit sized boobs. Her silky, dark brown, hair was usually worn shoulder length. It had a nice wave. Her face was pleasant. All the parts were nicely proportioned. She was a friendly person with lots of friends.

Mom had been divorced for over five years. She had been devastated when my father left her. She hadn't thought their marriage was in so much trouble. The breakup came as a complete surprise to her.

I still got along ok with my father, but we rarely discussed his marriage to my mother. We rarely talked about my mother, either, except on a few occasions. I visited him regularly. He took an active interest in my education and other aspects of my life, too.

My mother had a lot of emotional problems after the breakup. It was a couple of years before she pulled herself together, got a job, and started to live life again. During the period immediately after the breakup, she doted on me. At first I was put off by all the attention. However, my father told me I should watch out for her, give her love.

"She's having a hard time," he told me, "don't act like you are rejecting her." I think my father still cared a lot for her. It made the split harder for me to understand.

My father's words came back to me as I sat in the kitchen after getting my mother to rest. My mind was still a mess. Disjointed thoughts raced through my mind. Love for my mother. Shame for myself. Still, the smoldering anger. It was getting late when I finally ate a sandwich and went to bed. I looked in on my mother. She still seemed to be asleep.

I laid in bed and dozed off and on. I had lots of trouble getting to sleep. I was dozing when I felt Mom get in bed with me. I lifted my head up to look at her. She still had her robe on, closed to the neck.

"I don't want to be alone," she said, "please hold me." I put my arm over her. She snuggled up to me. "I'm sorry," she said again. I was the one who should be saying that. We both fell asleep after a while.

I got up for work quite early. I considered calling in sick, but decided not to. Mom was usually an hour later than me.

I showered then went to my room to dress. As I was putting my clothes on, I saw my mother's eyes open, watching me. I sat on the edge of the bed and put my hand on her shoulder. "Are you ok this morning? I asked.

"I think so," she replied, "thank you for helping me."

I almost cried. "Please forgive me, Mom."

"I'm sorry too, Ed. I'm the one who should be asking for forgiveness."

She gave me a wan smile. "I need to get up if I'm going to make it to work."

"We'll talk this evening," I told her. "I love you."

"I love you," she replied.

Work drug on through the day. I didn't think that it would ever end. Mom was in my thoughts almost constantly.

We talked a little that evening, but a lot didn't get said. My mother told me she and my former buddy had been flirting for several months. When I caught them was the first time they had ever got so far.

"I've been very lonely since your father and I broke up. I've missed having a man in my life," Mom said, "but, that doesn't excuse what I did."

"Mom, I'm so ashamed of myself," I told her. "I love you. I never wanted to hurt you."

We didn't talk much more that evening. Mom fixed supper for us. She made pot roast, one of my favorite meals.

We watched TV in the living room for a couple of hours. I said goodnight to Mom and went to bed.

About a half hour later, I felt Mom getting in the bed with me again. I looked. She was wearing her robe like the night before.

"Hold me," was all she said. I put my arm over her. I hugged her tightly as she snuggled up to me.

In the morning I woke up spooned to my mother's back. My dick was hard and nestled in the crack of her ass. As far as I could tell, she was still asleep. I eased out of bed, pissed away my hard-on, and went to the kitchen for coffee. I was still aroused even if I had gotten rid of my boner.

When I went to my room to dress, I saw Mom watching me again.

I sat on the bed and asked, "How are you this morning?"

"Ok, thank you again."

"I'll see you his evening. I love you." I bent to kiss her. She lifted her face, kissing me on the lips.

That evening we didn't talk about what had happened. Mom made another good dinner for me. We watched TV in the living room. I said goodnight and went to bed.

I lay awake, wondering if there would be a repeat of the last two nights. My mother seemed more composed, but it was hard to tell what she was thinking. Things turned out to be almost a repeat of the previous two nights. She slipped into bed with me, in her robe again. Almost the same words, "Hold me." I felt like I owed her, I needed to help her get over what had happened. I had a penance to perform.

I woke up with a hard-on again. As the morning before, I was spooned up to the back of my mother. My cock was nestled in the crack of her ass. This morning, however, my hand cupped her breast and was covered by one of her hands.

It was a Saturday. I didn't have to get up. Neither did mom. Unfortunately, habit is strong. I usually got up at the same time no matter what day it was. I eased out of bed trying not to wake her.

I sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee, and wondered what I should do. I was only eighteen. Still, I wanted to act like an adult and not like the enraged child I had behaved like a couple of days ago.

Mother appeared after a while. She had the day off, too. I got her a cup of coffee. We sat at the table, silently, until she had finished her first cup. She never liked to talk until then. I got her another cup.

"Thank you again, Ed," she said.

"Mom," I said hesitantly, "you know what's liable to happen if you keep sleeping in my bed, don't you?"

She looked at me steadily. "I think I do."

I showered and dressed. Mom was still in her robe. She puttered around the kitchen and cleaned. I told her I was going to visit my father.

She looked at me, "There is no need to tell him what happened, Ed. We'll work it out between ourselves."

"I know, Mom. I hadn't intended to bring it up with him."

"Ok," she said. "I have to do some shopping, but I should be home by early afternoon."

I left to visit my father. I spent a couple of hours there talking about college, possible careers, and stuff like that.

I got home before Mom. I did a little housecleaning. I didn't mind doing my share. With my mother working, it took both of us to keep up. I was just finishing the bathrooms when she pulled into the driveway. I helped carry the groceries in as well as a few boxes from other stores.

We both worked at putting the groceries away. The other boxes she took to her room.

Mom asked me if I would rather go out for dinner, or order a pizza. I opted for pizza and called in the order. When it arrived, I poured us each a glass of wine. We both overate. Mom had a second glass of wine. I settled for one.

We watched TV again. Mom went to her room to change. She came back wearing her robe. As usual, it was closed tightly to the neck.

It was a little later than usual when I decided to go to bed. I said goodnight to Mom, then headed for the bedroom. She had given no hint about what she would do, but she hadn't given any clues the last three nights, either.

I lay in bed wide awake. I saw the door open. My mother entered in her robe. That night, she shed her robe before climbing into bed. That night, she wore a short, sheer, nightie.

That night, she said, "Please make love to me, Ed."

I suppose I should have been shocked, I wasn't. A mix of feelings raced through my mind. Prominent among them, though, was elation. Elation, because it meant my mother forgave me for raping her. Elation, because it meant she loved me.

I pulled her to me. We kissed softly, at first. Our passion grew. Mom pulled her nightie off one of her breasts. She led me to it. She brought my face to her soft tit with its hardening nipple. She brought my hands to it to caress it and knead it. She felt my hardening cock. She pushed on the elastic of my shorts. She urged them over my hips. She pushed them down as I raised my hips to help.

I sat up. I pulled my t-shirt over my head. I kicked my shorts off my feet. I laid next to her. I fondled her breasts. We exchanged hot kisses. Our tongues twisted and danced. My hand on her pussy felt the juice seep between her swollen lips. My finger slid between them. I caressed her clit. I felt her hardening clit. It grew for me like a tiny dick.

My finger slid into her hole. I fingered her. I rubbed the walls of her hot pussy. I prepared the way.

Mom pushed me onto my back. She straddled me. She mounted me. She impaled her cunt on my hard manhood.

My beautiful mother leaned forward to kiss me. She also moved to give me her tit to suck on and to nibble. She kissed me with wet open mouthed kisses. She moaned with lust. She fucked me slowly and sensuously. Her pussy was snug on me but comfortable. As her passion built, she became more animated. She raised her body, until my cock was almost out of her, then slammed her body down on me. Our bare flesh slapped from the contact.

Her moans became soft cries. Her body quivered. She came in a rush. An orgasm raced through her. Another followed closely behind. She covered my face with wet sloppy kisses.

"I love you," I heard her say, softly, almost too softly to be heard.

She laid on my chest as the peak of orgasm passed. I rolled her over so I was on top. I thrust into her. I drove into my mother's hot pussy. I willed her to cum and to cum again. I wanted to please her. I wanted to gratify her. I wanted to bring her happiness. I wanted to bring contentment into her life.

I fucked her hard. She responded. Her hips thrust. Her arms pulled me close. She wanted me to kiss, to suck her tit, and to kiss again. Her legs clasped over my ass and lifted her hips. I felt her rising to another orgasm. I held myself back waiting for her. I waited for the bliss of fulfillment to pour through her body.

I sent my cum into her cunt as she soared. She cried out in ecstasy.

We laid together. We slept together. We woke together. I went to the kitchen to start the coffee. Mom went to the bath in her room. I headed for the other one when the coffee was going. We met back at the kitchen. Both of us were in bathrobes. Mom kissed me even before her coffee. She smelled like toothpaste. It felt good. My elation was still with me.

When Mom finished her first coffee, I got her another cup. She talked then.

"I didn't want Joe," she said. That was the name of my former best friend. "It was you I wanted. I'm glad you caught us before we actually had sex.

"I didn't think I could have you. I thought about how wrong it is. Joe was a substitute.

"I don't care, now, how wrong it is. I hope you feel the same."

"Mom, I love you." It was all I could get out.

Mom cooked us a big breakfast. We ate, still in our bathrobes. Neither of us felt in a hurry to get dressed.

"I'm glad you wanted to make love with me last night," Mom said as we sat at the table after eating. "I was worried that you wouldn't want to."

"I'm happy, too, that I did want you," I told her. "I love you." I had been repeating those words often, I couldn't help myself. "I'm glad you can forgive me for what I did." I thought about what had happened the night before. My conscience wasn't bothering me. It was not like it had when I took my mother by force.

We showered separately. I would have liked to shower with Mom, but I didn't think it was time yet. I put on underwear, shorts (if it matters), with my bathrobe. I met Mom back in the kitchen. She was wearing a robe, too. I didn't know what she was wearing under it.

We puttered around the house. We made the bed in my room. Mom's hadn't been used. We cleaned the kitchen. We did things like that.

After we had lunch, we went to Mom's room to lie down. Neither of us had dressed. We were still in our robes. We laid together and embraced. Our kisses turned passionate. I pulled the sash on Mom's robe and let it fall open. She was naked. Her beautiful bare body was framed by the open robe.

I kissed her tits. I sucked her nipples. She held me tightly when I did. I worked my way down her body. I kissed her navel. I kissed her soft mound. I kissed her thighs. I kissed the seam between her body and her thighs. When my tongue touched her slit, she reacted. She pulled my head up. She turned her body away. She pulled her fragrant pussy away from me.

"No, don't," she almost shouted.

I was startled. I pulled myself away from her crotch to lie facing her. I stroked her softly, mindful of her mental state.

"I'm sorry, Ed," she whispered. "I've never done that. Do you really want to?"

"I think I do," I told her. "I've never done it, either. I don't have much experience. I've heard about doing it, though. I've read about it. The idea of doing it with you is exciting. It's more than exciting. It's hot."

"Ed, I need to think. I can't right now."

We snuggled together and dozed off without making love. When I woke, I was alone and horny. I found Mom in the kitchen seated at the table.

"I was just about to come back to bed," she told me. "Now that you're up, have some coffee. It's fresh."

I got a cup and sat with her.

"I've been trying to think of a way I could do what you want without reacting badly. I suppose I could have a few drinks. That, or, you could tie my hands."

"Mom, I don't want to force you, or coerce you, to do anything. Once was too many times. If you were drunk, it would be the same thing. Why don't you just relax and enjoy it?"

"I'd love to, Ed. I want to do the things that please you. The same things might please me. Who knows? I have some kind of hang up about it, though."

Mom paused and sipped her coffee. "I think I have to explain. This is what led to our divorce. My hang-ups about sex.

"When your father and I first had sex, I couldn't even let him touch my private parts. I wanted him to. I just freaked out when he did. We worked through that. I found his touch enjoyable once I got past that hang-up. There were other things, though. It was a major hurdle for me to get on top. I usually didn't even know I had an inhibition until I reacted. Some of my anxieties didn't show up until we had married. I was pregnant with you by then.

"The thing is, Ed, that once I was able to work past my phobias I enjoyed whatever it was they had been about. Unfortunately, there were some we couldn't get past. Oral sex was a big one. We both got very frustrated. After a few attempts, I flat out refused to try.

"Things were said that shouldn't have been. Your father thought I didn't love him. I thought only my body counted to him. We stayed together, but our sex life went downhill. Then, before I knew how bad things were, he had moved out and filed for divorce. I was too proud to try to work things out. So was he, I think."