Temptation Ch. 02

*****

When I came down to earth, my now wicked body was totally limp. My usually prim and proper mind blacked out from the tremendous variety of sexual assaults from my own son. If my husband happened to barge in through the door that very moment I wouldn't muster enough strength to get up from the carpet let alone run for my life.

With the last of the aftershocks still shaking me, my son lay on the carpet next to me. Rolling over, I took position to return the favor. I kissed and licked his hard chest, sucked his nipples, fondled and stroked his bone-hard penis. He grabbed the back of my hair pushing my head harder into his chest while he squirmed on the floor trying to feel the pleasure coming from his mother's hand and mouth.

It was at that moment when my husband's car came roaring unmistakably as it pulled up the driveway. Needless to say we both jumped up from the floor, feeling the pain of an interrupted melody of sex and sensuality. My son helped my limp body walk to safety, me wobbling to nowhere, salvaging with my left hand whatever was left of my nightgown while pulling up my ravaged panties with my right. I was virtually running for my life.

I can't recall how my unsteady self managed to reach the safety of the bathroom before Mark unlocked the door from the outside. Neither would I know of Albert's fate at that moment. He was left behind after helping his mother waddle to safety. I would know later that he used the large towel to cover his raging hard-on from his father's view.

The scene could still have ended in violence even if my husband had seen nothing but my disheveled look, what with my son around me, his hardness tenting whatever covered it.

****

Mark was in a bad mood when I emerged from the bathroom in a fresh red terrycloth robe. He was quiet and unsmiling. I was too scared to start a conversation. Did he see bits and pieces at the love scene? I had no way of knowing unless he first talked. But he wouldn't and went to bed without a word. I was scared to death.

When my husband was snoring I thought of going down to clear every little piece of evidence that could have been left by the torrid love play at the living room.

Mark, although snoring doesn't sleep too deep. In one of our bedroom talks he had sternly expressed his resentment to my extra physical closeness with our son. The risk to get out of bed was therefore high but I decided to go down anyway if only to make sure that no bits of evidence were left at the love scene.

I emerged from our bedroom in a fresh, over the knee length, pink, spaghetti-strapped night dress with white panties underneath. As I quietly and carefully closed the door from the outside, my son, sneaking from a dark corner of our adjacent rooms, pulled me by the arm and pinned me on a wall just a few feet away from our bedroom door. He was half-naked with only his shorts on. He tried to catch my mouth but I would not let him this time. I tried to push him away, whispering sincere pleading words to him.

"What are you doing? Your dad is here..."

"I need you, Mom. So much...I can't wait."

"For Christ sake...please stop..."

His burning mouth ravished my face, neck and shoulders murmuring love sounds as he did. I used my belly to push away his strong body while whispering pleading words into his ear, begging him for mercy, but it only gave his right hand a quick access to my ass. His hardness was raging and red-hot.

"No way can I stop now, Mom..."

"Are you crazy?" I managed to blurt out in soft breathy words.

"I need to have you now...I waited for so long"

"Not here! uuuuhh...."

"I'll have you wherever..."

"Oh my God! Nohhhh..."

He devoured me all over, his blazing kisses going down to my clothed belly, thighs, and ass.

I managed to slip away from the young man's sexual fury and rushed to the safety of his room. He followed quickly and locked the door behind him. After a minute of futile pleading and begging he was all over me, devouring every square inch of my body. He wouldn't care less if he devoured my body parts over my nightdress or under it. He just went on ravishing his mother, unabated as he inched me to the edge of his bed.

"Albert, not now. Not here," my pleading was real. I was never so scared.

"I can't wait for tomorrow. I need you now." His breathing was as heavy as mine.

"Let me go...he...is...awake."

We fell on his bed together, rolling and wrestling. Albert wanted to make love with me. I, on the other hand, wanted and really wanted to get away not out of disgust but out of an authentic fear of getting caught. My husband was just at the next room, possibly already listening to the grapples and the breathy whispers.

My night dress had become a total mess. My panties were torn apart and hanged on my knee. His shorts were off his waist, his rock-hard penis blazing with heat. We rolled on his bed as one body, westward then eastward then back to the west. Our genitals were rubbing and about to lock together. He was on top of me.

"Please don't...it's wrong...we can kiss...we can play...we can masturbate together...but we can't do this...we shouldn't...you have to stop," I pleaded so softly, breathing the words into his ear.

"I need you, Mom. I've been yearning for this for so long now. You're so desirable, so full of sex. You are made of sex."

Nothing could stop him. Not even the sincere pleads of his mother whose resistance stemmed only from fear.

The grinding of our bodies and the roughness of it made me so hot. My own sexual arousal was fast overcoming my fear until it finally made me stop resisting. His rock-hard penis slowly but firmly penetrated my wet pussy, going deeper and deeper until his belly rested on mine, confirming that I had taken all of him inside me.

We paused for a moment save for the short jerks and humps, just feeling the tight clinging of genitals of a mother and son, the most forbidden yet the most ecstatic of all couplings. We were like animals in the dark, copulating without inhibition, without regard for human and God's nature. My own son was breeding me.

Albert began to grunt as he pounded into his mother's womb. Yes, the same womb that gave birth to him 18 years back. My quivering ass reacted with equal vigor. It went rising and falling from the bed, meeting his thrusts with counter thrusts. The bed creaked, threatening to collapse as we copulated like two dogs in heat. We moaned and groaned into each other's ears for no one to hear, including God. The wickedness of our mating was overpowering.

The ferocity and violence of the sleazy act quickly brought us to simultaneous mind-shattering orgasms. Yes, my son and I came together. My ass squirmed uncontrollably in bed as I bit my son's shoulder blade as hard as I could in an attempt to suppress a scream that could cause our death in the hands of a jealous husband. He retaliated by inserting a finger into my ass hole then pounded his hard penis into my convulsing, clutching pussy, shooting his raging incestuous seed into his mother's cervix.

The lovemaking, if it can be called that, was animalistic, wild and untamed. Our bellies pounded and collided with such force that it was virtually impossible for the sounds of love not to penetrate the wall into the adjacent room. My sexually potent son was completely oblivious of it. He just carried on, pumping his life material into his mother, breeding me, impregnating me when, suddenly, I went stiff as a board. My whole body lifted off the bed, throwing us to our sides as another orgasm ripped through me turning every muscle of my body tight as a rope.

"Oohhhh...! Oohhhh..."

"My God, Mom, you are a sex goddess. I... adore you..."

"Aaahhhh...aaahhhhh..."

I was in absolute frenzy at that sexually intense moment as we continued pumping into each other non-stop. We locked mouths, slobbered into each other until the last of the remnants of the most powerful orgasms ever felt by any animal on earth had subsided.

After minutes of crossing the peak of pleasure, pumping, thrashing, twisting and jerking our connected bodies in the creaking bed our genitals disengaged. Our mouths, however, remained locked together until sounds of the bedroom door of the other room creaking open broke our mouths apart. The break was so sudden that it caused a loud high pitched sigh from me. Mixed saliva spilled over our chins as we darted our stares toward the locked door overhead our intertwined bodies.

"huuuhhh...?"

"Don't...move...Mom. The door...is locked."

"I...have to go...Uhhh..."

We were breathing heavily, both from fear and from the aftermath of a torrid love play. I jumped off my son's bed, salvaging whatever was left of my nightdress and rushed near the locked bedroom door putting one ear on it to listen to the direction of footsteps.

Mark was going down the stairs obviously looking for me. He wasn't calling my name. He wanted us caught in the act. I should know because he had been harboring suspicions long before this sin of incest was committed. When the upstairs floor was cleared of my husband, or at least when I thought it was so, I quietly and carefully unlocked my son's bedroom door and tip-toed to the next room. But not before me and my son shared a one last long passionate kiss for the night.

****

When Mark re-entered our bedroom, I was in the bathroom. I made the sounds of running water loud enough for him to hear. The aftershocks of the frenzied sexual intercourse in the other room still tingled my wicked body. As warm water splashed into me, I could feel the illicit but blissful mating of a mother and son minutes ago in the other room, the mad kissing, the pumping, the squirming and the flow of love mixed juices.

I touched myself thinking of the wickedness of it all. I masturbated with fury, imagining Albert joining me under the running water to make love anew with his mother, his "sex goddess," the woman he described as "made of sex." My furious fingers sent me to another orbit, making me come violently, knocking me down to my knees into the tub, shaking in sensual pleasure.

When I emerged out of the bathroom, Mark was sitting on the couch waiting for me with fiery eyes.

"Tell me what the fuck is going on, Christine?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is the second time in three hours that you came out of a bathroom after a shower. And the weather is not exactly hot. Now what's going on?"

"None...nothing...I just wanted to."

"Something is going on here, Christine..."

"Mark, please stop it. You are carried away by a jealousy, by a dirty imagination. That is what is going on."

"You don't think I'm that stupid to get jealous of a non-existing lover, do you?"

"Go to sleep," I retorted calmly.

His words were far from calm. His sarcasm was harsh. I know that he knew Albert and I had landed in bed. He just didn't see it. He couldn't express his suspicion openly because he could sense the awkwardness of saying it. I would learn later from Albert that his father knocked on his door that Friday night, looking for me minutes after we disengaged from a crazy and sleazy sexual intercourse.

I knew my husband's temper. He surely would have turned violent if he happened to sneak a peek and see his wife writhing in ecstasy while a boy, their son, filled and fulfilled her sexually, sending her to absolute frenzy in a way she had never been in 19 years of marriage.

That Mark harbored a suspicion of an incestuous relationship going on in his house was without doubt. But as fate would have it, luck too was in love with me. My husband failed by the skin of a tooth in his dire attempt to have us caught in the act.

Luck had averted what could have been a crime of passion, a crime that any sane husband would not think twice to commit against an unfaithful wife and her daring lover if caught in the act. It is a crime that society and even the courts of law have vindicated and will continue to vindicate.