My Son My Conqueror Pt. 02

Thank you for the positive feedback and constructive criticism of this story. I read every comment that is sent my way and the DMs. This story has generated quite a bit of comment and I find that fascinating. My incest stories always seem to find an audience, and I am grateful.

The story continues with Jessica struggling to fight her desires. It's no small feat, I believe, to go from being a mother to a lover of your son. It should never be portrayed as a simple descent into incestuous affairs. And I am trying to do just that: slow it down. I also believe that when it happens, it's no small thing. It's an all-or-nothing type of event. Let me know how successful or unsuccessful you feel I am being.

I've also appreciated the plot ideas some people have posted. It thrills me when readers get into my stories so much they imagine where it can all possibly go. That's the magic of writing: you can go wherever you want. And do whatever you want. It's liberating and I find it so very satisfying. I encourage everyone to try their hand at writing. There's nothing better than a good tale, irrespective of what you think of your talent.

I've opted to finish this tale with this part. I like how it ends. Sorry to those readers who wanted more. I've added an epilogue to wrap up the story and provide some closure. The epilogue was the start of Part Three.

One quick thing: you may notice I have switched to American English in this story. Simply put: the story is Jessica's, and she's American. I haven't always done that, but this I wanted to.

You really should read Part One first. Or maybe just read the summary below and just dive in.

Please enjoy,

Love,

Lana Ocean

Canada

P.S. Sorry for the name mix ups in the original version of this part of the story. I have corrected them (all I hope!). My apologies for this. I know how painful it is to be bounced out of a story due to inconsistencies like this. I shouldn't have made their names so similar. The very first sentence had it wrong. Geesh. Please forgive me.

Summary of My Son My Conqueror, Part One

Jessica Smith is a forty-year-old divorced mother of twenty-year-old Desmond in Smalltown, USA. Their relationship is very close, until she starts to develop sexual desires for her son, which causes her significant emotional distress. She meets a woman in the market, and they quickly develop a mutual attraction. Jennifer Kimura, who had a sexual relationship with her widower father (who is now deceased), and Jessica bed each other and, at the end of Part One, her son has heard them and knows and seems to be supportive of his mother. His girlfriend, Leanne (Jessica's look-alike), feels the same way.

Chapter Four--There Has to Be a Morning After

"Out of your vulnerabilities will come your strengths." Sigmund Freud.

When Jennifer and I emerged from my bedroom, we were washed and dressed. Jennifer wore her clothes from yesterday and I had on my running gear. I carried the remains of our breakfast to the kitchen and started to clean up. Desmond had cleaned up his mess, and the kitchen was spotless. Jennifer excused herself and I saw her head to the door leading down to the basement to the area my son and I called the Gaming Room.

"Jennifer, where are you going?" I called out to her retreating back.

She stopped, turned, and grinned at me. "I just want to have a talk with your son. Is that all right?"

I froze in place, my heart skipping a beat. "Why?"

"I want to thank him."

I watched her face. She smiled at me, and, after a moment of hesitation, I nodded.

She turned and disappeared around the corner. I heard her knock on the door frame leading down to the basement.

"Desmond? Can I talk to you?" she asked.

I waited to hear a reply, but instead I heard Jennifer go downstairs, closing the door behind her.

I stood there imagining all sorts of conversations. I was deeply worried Jennifer would try to stir things up between Desmond and me. I didn't want that, but I hadn't told her not to. I was content with how things were, and there was no way I was pursuing anything with my son.

The thought both repulsed and excited me.

I was already crossing lines with Desmond. For one, I was secretly recording him in his bedroom. That alone made me sick to my stomach. I was invading his privacy. Spying on him. I tried to imagine how I would feel if I found a camera in my bedroom. I would feel violated. Angry. Upset.

At that moment, I vowed I would remove the bear. Or the batteries and leave the bear. I had to leave the bear.

And then I remembered that on the teddy bear in Desmond's room was a video of Desmond, alone in his room adjacent to mine, listening to me and Jennifer pleasuring ourselves all night.

I had to know what he was doing in his room, while listening to us. Masturbating, I hoped. Stroking himself. His hands sliding along his hard length. The head of his penis engorged and dark. His other hand cupping his testicles and teasing them. His pleasure building, hearing me scream in pleasure and then... eruption. His cum shooting hard into the air. Pleasure animating his face. His soft moans of pleasure while listening to his mother being pleasured on the other side of a thin wall.

I slapped the kitchen counter with both hands and pushed those thoughts away. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. I hung my head in shame.

There was something wrong with me. Fundamentally wrong. No mother should have these feelings. Imagining all these dirty, depraved thoughts. I was scared. Scared of what I was feeling.

Then I remembered the look on his face before he left my bedroom this morning.

He had walked to my bedroom door and then had stopped and looked back at me. The expression on his face was easy to read. He had truly been happy for me. And I also saw the desire there. A woman can always tell. His eyes had looked into mine and I had seen his need. He wanted me. His mother.

I shuddered with pleasure and disgust. And my head still pounded from all the wine from last night. I had to go for a run. I had to escape. Suddenly, I wished Jennifer would leave. I wanted everything back to normal.

It's too late, my inner voice whispered to me.

I nodded.

I poured a coffee and sank into the couch in the sunroom and waited for Jennifer. She had already been downstairs for close to ten minutes, and I was desperate to know what they were talking about. I heard footsteps on the basement stairs and heard the door open and close. Jennifer came around the corner and into the kitchen. She saw me and smiled and grabbed a cup of coffee and joined me.

I watched her over my own cup. She sipped her coffee and looked outside at the morning. It was another beautiful day. Finally, her eyes slid sideways and peered at me, and I held my breath. A smile touched her lips.

"Are you staring at me?" she asked, her voice soft and stirring desire in me. Her Japanese features looked so exotic to me. We had done all sorts of wonderful things last night. We had experimented and then, frustrated, searched the Internet for ideas and soon found ourselves lost in pleasure.

It had been the best sex of my life. Nothing before came close. We had done unimaginable things. What I would crave for myself, I would act out on her. And she would reciprocate. I had enjoyed every inch of her body and my mind flashed back to scenes from last night where I had explored her intimately. She was magnificent. A sexy beast. My lover, I thought, and the words thrilled me.

"I said, are you staring at me?" she asked again.

I nodded. I was afraid to open my mouth. Words I wasn't sure I truly felt wanted to burst forth. Words a younger version of me would blurt, lost, and confused in my emotions. I clamped my mouth shut and struggled to find logic and peace in my heart and mind.

"Your son is a very mature young man, Jessica," she said and looked out the window, releasing me from her intense gaze. I relaxed a little. "You want to know what we spoke about, don't you? Don't answer, I can see it in your face. Relax. I wasn't inappropriate. I merely wanted to ask him if it was okay for you and me to be together. He seems genuinely happy for you, Jessica."

I felt relieved and pleased. Pleased he was happy for me and relieved the conversation didn't go any further about my son and me.

"He's coming over to fix my door this morning. And I should head home."

"You can stay."

She gave me a soft smile. A melancholy one, I thought. "I would love that. But we each have our lives, don't we? I must return to mine for a little while."

I nodded at her. Inside my head, I was screaming she didn't want to be with me anymore. I lusted after my son, and it disgusted her. Or worse: I was a terrible lover and she wanted out.

Her face looked startled, and she moved quickly beside me, kneeling on the floor, putting her face over mine. Her long hair hung over me, the ends damp, and made a beautiful nest around our faces. It was my turn to be startled.

"Jessica," she whispered. "I'm just going home. I'll be back. You and me? We've started something wonderful here. Okay?"

I nodded, and she kissed me. My hand snaked around her neck and pulled her harder against my lips. We kissed with passion, and all my doubts vanished in an instant. "I'm sorry," I said into her mouth. "I'm a mess."

"You're fine," she said and licked my lower lip. "And tasty. And delicious. And mine." She kissed me hard, sucking my breath from me. She pulled back and my mouth tried to follow her. "I'm going home. Getting changed. Maybe do some housework and wait for your son to come round. Okay?"

I nodded, and she kissed me.

She stood up and looked down at me. "I'll see myself out. You look too cozy."

"I need to go for a run," I said, my eyes soaking in her beauty. She was stunning.

"Good. Do you have a phone? A smart phone?"

I did. Somewhere in the house and said so.

She snorted, and it was gorgeous. "Jesus. Okay." She turned and rummaged in the kitchen and found a shopping list pad magnetically attached to the fridge. She grabbed a pen and wrote out her number.

"Text me, okay?" She stared at me and smiled when I nodded and smiled back.

She came over, kissed me quick, grabbed her empty coffee cup, put it in the sink, and traipsed out.

"Bye, baby!" she called out and closed the door behind her. I heard her car start up and drive away.

The house suddenly felt empty. Desmond was downstairs, but it still felt empty. I went to sip my coffee and found it empty. I rose and put my cup beside Jennifer's. She had used this cup. Drank from it. Her lips had touched it.

I shook myself. "Get a grip, Jessica." I chastised myself. "You are not a teenager anymore."

I went over to the basement door. It was open and I could hear video game noises coming up the stairs. "Desmond?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going for a long run!"

"It's Sunday! You always do a long run on Sunday!"

I grinned. It was a lame exchange, but one we did every Sunday. I would announce my run, and he would roll his eyes. Everything was okay. I had to believe that.

"Love you, Desmond!"

"Love you more!"

I froze. Normally, he just said he loved me. This time, he said he loved me more. It pleased me deep inside me. It bubbled up through me and I grinned like a schoolgirl. He loved me more!

I went through the front door, threw on my shoes, tied a runner's knot, and stepped outside. I felt the early morning heat hit me. The days would soon get hotter and hotter, making my runs more difficult. My head throbbed and realised I would need water for this run. I turned around and stepped back into the house.

And looked right at Desmond coming out of the basement. He froze staring at me. I stared back. And then I saw the bulge in his track pants. His cock was pressing against the material and pulling it from his leg. It looked beyond real to me. Too large. Too present.

"Water," I said, tearing my eyes from his erection. "I forgot my water!"

I rushed past him into the kitchen, found my hydration belt, and filled the two little water bottles, and strapped it around my waist. I went back to the front door and saw Desmond was gone.

Thank God, I thought, and went outside. I looked down my laneway and knew I would be running for a long time. Running cleared my thoughts. During runs, my mind would wander, and I had some of my best runs lost to my thoughts. Running is a mental sport.

I didn't feel like running. I never do, not really. But once I start, my body takes over. Some of my best runs were when I didn't want to.

I stretched a little, feeling muscles tweak after a night of making love. I needed more core strength. Jennifer and I had done some things that needed more core strength.

That's got to be the best incentive, I thought happily, and started a slow jog down the lane.

I turned left and ran along the shoulder of the road. My head was pounding, and my legs felt wobbly. My ponytail banged on my back and pushed me along. The first half mile had my heart rate up and my hangover started to abate. There is no better cure for a hangover than a great run. It flushes the toxins so quickly. I pulled a water bottle free and wet my mouth.

My nearest neighbor's house was owned by an elderly couple called the Millers. Their kids had left home over two decades ago. They were retired from farming and their three fields lay fallow. Betty Miller had bad arthritis in her hips and back, and Jacob Miller had a game leg from an accident in his forties. They were a God-fearing couple and attended every Protestant church event in town. Desmond helped them out quite a bit. They were a nice couple if you could get past the bible thumping.

I sped up. My legs felt great and strong this morning. My pussy was a little sore and my ass ached deep inside. The things we had done... memories flashed through my mind. We were so very dirty and naughty. I had never cum like that in my life and so many times over and over. It had been nonstop carnal pleasure, and I craved more.

Up ahead, I could see Jennifer's house past the trees that marked her property line. Her house was like mine, but smaller. A long time ago, the first owners were likely family or related to the people who had built my home. She had the same stone and mortar outside. A luxury in older times, to be honest. The yard in front had grown wild. Her laneway was overgrown. All-in-all, it was a rundown home and property. Jennifer would have her hands full, fixing it up.

I was tempted to run down her lane, knock on her door, and ravish her. But I went past looking and hoping to see her look out at me and wave. It didn't happen; and I kept running.

I relaxed into my normal pace. My shoes struck the gravel on the shoulder of the road and beat a pattern into my soul. My breathing found the perfect depth and rate, and I felt my head clear of the cobwebs and the pain of my hangover.

My mind went blank, and I ran. I had run this route so many times I recognized every marker and knew exactly how far I had gone. Thwack, thwack, thwack, went my feet. My arms swung freely, pushing my feet, and keeping my stride to the right length. There was just enough breeze to sluice off my body heat and cool me down.

I hit my groove. It had been a long time since I found my stride so perfectly. I was exhausted from lack of sleep. Dehydrated from too much wine. And I never felt better.

My thoughts turned to Desmond. I saw him again, standing at the stop of the basement stairs. His cock pressed up against his sweatpants. It looked so large. So very male. A shaft made of hard flesh. Gorgeous. Thick.

It could be yours, I thought. You just need to reach out and take it. He would let you; you know he would. Then you could take him inside you. Your loving boy. Your child. Back to where you birthed him. Completing the circle.

I shuddered and pushed those thoughts away. I had to stop those thoughts. It was wrong. So very wrong.

Then there's Jennifer, my sweet Asian beauty. I had feelings for her. It was too hard not to. Undressing in front of her had thrilled me, watching her eyes feast on me. Her standing naked in front of me. Her breasts standing high and firm from her thin chest, her dark nipples pointing to the sky. Her narrow waist and perfect hips. The wide gap between her legs with her inner labia exposed from her smooth, shaved pussy. I would never forget my first touch of another woman's pussy. My fingers touching her where I wanted her to touch me. The softness, the heat, the glorious wetness. And then her smell! That musky, sweet smell. And my first taste.

It had been hard for me to taste her. To take that plunge. I had been straight my entire life, never once imagining having intimate relations with another woman. I wondered what had happened to make me suddenly crave it so badly. And then act out on it? To lower my mouth to her vagina and devour her with such hunger?

It was Leanne, I answered myself. It was seeing the girl who was fucking your son who looked just like you. She was gorgeous. I saw her as I see myself and that was it, wasn't it? It turned me on. Excited me. It opened something inside me. Drew me out.

Every time I tasted Jennifer, it tasted new to me. Exciting and erotic. The true scent of a woman.

And she had fucked her father, hadn't she? She was incestuous. Society would shun her. Her own family knew and were after her money. She lived in a world where she had crossed the line that should never be crossed. She was dirty. Depraved. A father-fucker.

I snorted and kept running.

No one says that. No one calls a woman a father-fucker. You hear motherfucker all the time. That's the bad thing. Fucking your mother, that is. But fucking your father? Why does that seem less offensive? More acceptable to me?

Because you wanted to fuck your own father, I realised. I had imagined it plenty of times. I had masturbated to it.

Desmond would be a motherfucker; I realised a hundred yards later. If I let him.

With a start, I realised I had run quite the distance from home. I looked around and didn't recognise where I was. The road led to the next town over and rarely did I travel this far down. I spotted a mile marker beside the road and thought hard.

Shit, I thought. I've run over fifteen miles. And it's fifteen miles back to home.

"I guess it's a marathon day," I gasped and turned around. I pulled out an empty water bottle, grimaced, and grabbed the other one. It was half full. "Fuck!"

My train of thought was broken, and I started to feel my legs burning. My lungs drew in large volumes of air. I pushed through it. My mind started the annoying whispers at me. Urging me to stop. To walk a little. Asking me why I did this.

As I said, running is a mental sport. It teaches you to stop listening to those nagging little doubts. Those words of self-doubt. It can be daunting sometimes to push through those words. They're insidious. Growing stronger and stronger in your head.

I pounded the road and kept running. Now that I knew I had very little water, that voice added to the chorus in my head. It would kill me if I kept running. I had to stop now!

I grinned and ran, eating up the miles to home. This is why I ran. It helped me face my demons.

* * *

When I ran closer to Jennifer's house, I first spotted Desmond's truck and then I saw Desmond at her front door, working on it. I called out to him, and he looked up and waved at me. I could see his white, toothy smile from the road. I saw him say something to someone inside the house and then Jennifer emerged. Her smile was just as white, and she waved at me, and cupped her hands to her mouth.