Jane and Charlie are Different

My name is Jane and I've written about my relationship with my son Charlie. He is now 20 and I'm, well, a young 40s. I'm happily married to my husband with whom I share a 21 year love and secretly, 'married' to my son.

We have a loving but socially taboo relationship that would attract scorn from most societies and most certainly from where we live. We discovered our relationship by accident when Charlie caught me using a new toy about two years ago.

As is the case so often, when our darkest thoughts and desires are finally outed, a flood of honesty is released. The emotional explosion that ensues can be difficult to deal with and in my case, lead, still leads, to moments of doubt and guilt. Nevertheless, I have no regrets now and feel liberated knowing that I'm cocooned inside a secret where I can physically express myself to Charlie and reveal myself to you by writing.

I have mentioned in the past that I get erotic pleasure from expanding my notes from a journal into something that illuminates each experience.

If you have ever watched pornography on the internet, you'll appreciate the varieties and degrees of human sexuality that exist in this world. Some of it is clearly wrong by any societal measures and I would be disgusted to know what people enjoy it.

However, I do enjoy various themes and incest is one such subject. I'll describe my observations and you can judge whether I'm seeing these in the same way as you.

The layers and directions of incest are simple -- family members willingly or unwillingly participating in sexual or intimate ways. Fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, siblings, gay and lesbian parent and children, etc.

I of course enjoy mother and son as this is my personal experience. Charlie and I have looked at so many scenarios and of course enjoy the most realistic ones. We look out for videos where the couple look like us -- we are quite regular looking people and so we often find couples we imagine to be us.

There are three types of mother/son we have noted:

Soviet style -- probably the closest to real life but perhaps staged inasmuch as 'she' looks like a mother and 'he' is somebody's son but are they a genuine incestuous couple? She discovers him reading a porn magazine, chastises him, sits beside him, seduces him, gives him oral sex and then they go through the gymnastic process of all positions finishing in an external ejaculation.

Japanese style -- the sexually neglected mother discovers magazines/semen soaked tissues in her son's bedroom, goes through some motherly angst mixed with years of unfulfilled urges, seduces him in the bathtub, retires to the futon and proceeds to whimper through her incestuous defloration.

Euro/American style -- She aggressively pursues him after catching him watching porn/peeking at her in the bathroom/sniffing her panties. She calls him a pervert, dismissively compares him with his father but admires his manhood, decides she wants some of that and lets him go for it.

Real incest porn is different to staged incest porn obviously. For a start, the camera is fixed, placed on a coffee table or chair. There is no third or fourth person in the room doing moving zooms and multiple shots. Real incest porn just 'feels' different.

Real incest is very different, at least in our lives. Charlie and I don't play scenarios -- well, not often. There is no 'catching' each other and there is no mocking. We have desires that we feel comfortable in expressing and sharing and we have days that are casual and some that are passionate. Mostly we make time because he still studies at university and I work from home. We generally know each other's timetables but sometimes we just sneak a little time together dangerously.

A few weeks ago, one evening after dinner, I really needed to do something. Sneaking kisses and touches in far rooms of the house while my husband is home is exciting and usually risk free. All I want is to feel Charlie's lips against mine and to press against him. I love to feel him swell inside his pants as I touch him and sometimes after my husband has gone to bed, I'll stay up late 'working' and we might go further. Like I say, it's exciting and a little risky.

That warm night I snuck out of bed and went to Charlie's bed. It's close enough to my room that if my husband did get up (and we have enough creaking floorboards to be heard clearly), I'd have plenty of time to sit up on the edge of the bed, straighten my nightie and tell him we were having a 'heart to heart'. I can be almost 99% sure that'll never happen.

That night I needed Charlie as badly as I ever had. I'd lain awake while my husband slept soundly beside me. I tossed and turned with my mind on only one thing and although masturbating can scratch the itch, beside my husband I didn't want to be muttering Charlie's name. Since I'd become an adulterous wife, my sexual desires had become more intense and harder to fulfil. That night I knew that only full penetrative sex would ease my craving. I swung out of bed normally; to sneak out would only arouse Hubbie's suspicion if I did manage to catch him between dreams. I walked in the dark down the hall to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. That would be a decoy defence if I needed one to explain why I was up.

Charlie had heard the floorboard creak and woken properly but he told me in the morning that he'd been having one of 'those' dreams anyway. As I waked past his half-open door, I looked inside and, from the glow of the bedside clock, saw him smile.

By the time I quietly returned a minute later, he was standing and ready. By the light of kitchen streaming down the hall, I admired his masculinity and as I approached him, he pulled me to him in a lovers' embrace. He is taller than me and I need to stand on my toes but oh, the way I feel lifted by him makes me float.

We kissed as lovers, fully, softly and deeply. By this point in our relationship, it was wonderful to simply close my eyes and drift into him. There was no reckless, urgent smacking of lips but rather, a languid, dreamy elegance. Charlie knew where to touch me, to make me deeply aroused, and knew that my erect nipples would be screaming for attention. I felt his hand lightly rake over my pubic mound and if he'd wanted to just take me at that point I'd have been grateful. I felt his hand, the free one, rise and cup my breasts and I felt the warmth of his touch against my heart. He knows that pinching me between his fingers and slightly tugging up makes me mew. He must have smiled with satisfaction when he felt me lightly collapse when he did that.

His free hand, caressing my neck and shoulders, snaked towards the nape of my neck and he aggressively snatched a pinch of the fine hair that hides there during the day. It always makes me gasp and so it was then. It hurts in a way that I can't describe and under any other circumstances, I'd be outraged. But when Charlie does it, it's like paradise and he knows hit, the naughty boy. He feels my body stiffen when he does that and if it didn't hurt so much I'd always be begging for more. I don't know how or when he discovered it.

While he was torturing me with pleasure, I was absorbing him. I could smell him; his hair, his sleepiness. I could smell me on him, my lips, my perfume, my hair. He touches me in so many ways that he is like a mirror for me to sense. I wanted to claw him but it was summer and scratches aren't a good look. Winter had been different.

I reached behind and felt his firm muscular physique. He isn't a jock but he is sculptured in a gymnastic manner and so wonderful to look at. I kissed his nipples and wished that I could do the same to myself. There are times that lesbian porn makes me envious for solely that reason. His nipples are hard and rigid when aroused and he too likes to be pinched "like this" I once cheekily whispered.

When I reached down to his erection: hot, swollen, proud and beautiful, I felt it bob drunkenly. I love its weight and the upward curve it forms. Soon it would be in me, inside my wet, aching body. I wanted to turn away from him and feel him enter from behind as he has many times' but this time I more badly wanted to face him. By the gentlest movement we backed to his bed and he lay on the edge with his feet on the floor.

I straddled him and sunk on to him in one movement feeling him fill me and feeling his body press me in my private area. I stayed on him and felt the fullness that intercourse, good intercourse offers.

I rocked back and forth and the gliding made my genital pleasures swim with pleasure. I could feel Charlie slightly move in and out while I did that, while I rocked and ground, tightened around him and pushed down.

He pulled me down and kissed me again but now with more urgency. "Jane, I love you, I always have and always will".

We should have gone, could have gone for hours -- some days had seemed like that -- but that night was for intensity and release and, but for having to make love quietly, would have been loud and released.

Although locked in a moment of passion, I was acutely aware of my husband two rooms up the hall and so had my ears individually pricked for the slightest noise.

In that position, my vagina makes vulgar but funny noises, suctioning and gurgling as it attempts to draw my son's sexual organ deeper into me. I can, and often do, produce so much lady wetness that it runs. I knew I was doing so then; I could feel it spread at our joining and the intense perfume, unmistakable, was filling the air. I tried to roll over so Charlie could go on top and spear me. I love when I can wrap my legs around his back and feel his body shudder and cramp at his climax.

That night though, Charlie simply sat up and kept me mounted to him. We embraced and kept passionately kissing while I kept rocking against him. I was becoming aroused closer to climax and my breath was coming in desperate sniffs. Almost at the point that I tipped over to orgasm, Charlie grabbed around my back and shoulders and pulled me down on him. I can feel when he deposits his semen in me without a condom, the sudden warmth and stabbing as his penis seeks to go home inside me. It was enough that night to bring my climax at the same time and I slammed myself against him in a desperate attempt to become one with him. He had grabbed that fine hair at the back of my head and pulled hard, so hard that I needed to cry out, so hard that my head involuntarily looked up and as I gasped like a drowning woman, I rose and slammed against his still embedded cock.

Charlie stayed silent, he can, I however rasped out a silent scream. My head was still tugged back and although I couldn't have seen Charlie in the halflight, I know he would have been grimacing in some obscene rapture. His semen came in wave upon wave, each one feeling no less than the one before and each getting closer to spilling out of me.

He released me from his animal grip, my hair stinging in a glorious masochistic agony. I collapsed, full weight against him and we in turn collapsed back to his sheets. There was no collapsing of him inside me however and I briefly considered trying for a second go round. I looked at his clock and realised I had been with my son for forty minutes. Incest porn is not like that.

I raised myself off him and felt a gush of wetness spill from me onto his sheets. "I'll wash them in the morning", I whispered.

I lay there for a little while, stroking his smooth hairless chest and his still rigid weapon. Coated in his and my slipperiness, I so much wanted to take him in my mouth. The thought of my breath, rich in sex, drifting across my marital pillow was too dangerous to consider though. Our sweat, drenching and guiltily trying to betray us through its absorbed sharing, ran in trickles from my face and body. I could see the sheen and feel the saturation of Charlie in the feeble light of his clock. Although it was miles after midnight, I knew that our missing sleep would be compensated by the deep dreams that would soon follow.

I reached to the bedside table and took a thirsty gulp of water. When I offered it to Charlie he drank like a man emerging from the desert.

I kissed him once more and rose to my unsteady feet, walked quietly out of his room carrying an almost empty glass and a head full of pleasure.

Adjusting and putting my nightie on properly, as I slid into bed I felt another run of my son's seed drool lazily out of my still puffy vagina. I lay quietly on my back and felt the sticky liquid, mixed with my sweat, run obscenely to my anus. I opened my legs and lightly touched myself. Desire had drained from me and sleep overwhelmed me. I have no idea what I dreamed of that night but my life had become a dream come true.