A Normal Mother’s Next Step

A Normal Mother’s Next Step
My name is Jane. I began an incestuous relationship with my son Charlie a couple of years ago. It has continued more or less regularly since then. I have discovered parts of my personality and beliefs that I never imagined would be there. Charlie and I have done some things that aren’t told to us in school and extended into realms of fetishes.
I have stayed quite faithful to the way things happened as it is quite easy to remember what lead up to key moments. I have kept a ‘journal’ of these in a very safe place but I find it erotic to expand and share my experiences with you.
I received some very nice feedback from a lot of readers after my first story and I’d like to reply if I get the opportunity. To be quite frank, I only write when I have the time – I work from home and sometimes I have no time for myself or the other two men in my life. I had been using one of my husband’s old email addresses I’d set up for him but I now have closed that and started my own just for Literotica purposes. If you do reply, please be polite. I know I’m not an average mother but nor am I some of the things one or two have suggested. If you do reply or make comments, I’ll try to adjust my writing style if appropriate.
The next time Charlie and I committed incest was a day later. Fortunately for both of us, it was Charlie’s day off from Uni so we had the whole day to ourselves. The previous day had been fairly normal; my husband came home at a regular time, answered “not bad” when I asked him how work was, turned on TV and watched the news.
Charlie was in his bedroom studying and I was wandering back and forth from Em’s bedroom where I was working to the front part of the house. When I knew it was safe to talk, I propped in his doorway and smiled. When he looked up it was with the innocent eyes of youth but now I’d turned some of that innocence into something else.
“Yesterday was wonderful” I told him, and he nodded and smiled. I didn’t want to go through all the details again; we’d whispered so many of those things while we were intertwined yesterday. After making love so passionately and unambiguously, he knew that we were always going to be lovers.
“We can do it again if you want – I want to” and he smiled some more.
So the following day, his day at home, I remained in my housecoat even after my husband left for work. Charlie maintained his usual routine, probably with a head full of thoughts about whether his desires might become fulfilled. I wasn’t sure how to initiate anything; my heart seemed to be beating like a drum and I suddenly felt like a teenager waiting for her first date.
At the moment I almost couldn’t wait any longer, Charlie announced “I’m having a shower” and wandered off to his bedroom. My hands were trembling clumsily and I processed a hundred

thoughts about what to do next. I decided on nothing.
Weakly, I resolved that if Charlie wants to do something, that’s okay, but if he doesn’t do anything then it means he doesn’t want anything. Having a shower after breakfast wasn’t such a big deal, in fact it was almost routine.
As I looked up the corridor, I saw him drift across wrapped in a towel; nothing unusual in that either. But what was unusual was what didn’t happen next; he didn’t close the bathroom door. For the first time I could ever remember, I could see light flooding from that room. I heard the shower begin and then the screen thump shut. I couldn’t stand the tension any longer; I had to see what was happening. I walked, quite normally (no need to slink) past the door and yes, there he was, quite naked and seemingly oblivious as he washed and soaped behind the steamy glass.
My first natural urge was to avert my sight, to almost apologize for walking in on him but wait, he left the door open. He wanted me to see him, he wanted to gauge my willingness to do something more and he wanted to arouse me. I’m sure that’s what he wanted and I was aroused – I had been all morning and probably during the night too.
I loosened my house coat and saw myself reflected in the bathroom mirror. From his angle, Charlie couldn’t see me place my hand over my mound, couldn’t see me gently touch my naked breasts, couldn’t detect my arousal. He wouldn’t see me begin to rub my small erect clitoris through the moist cotton and begin to spread dampness. I leant against the door and began to masturbate, not caring if he looked now or not. When I put my hand inside my panties, I was drenched, wetter than I’d ever been in my life. I walked in and sat on the dressing chair and slipped out of my panties. The movement made Charlie turn around.
He wiped the glass to confirm I was there and kept looking. I looked at him and opened my legs wider so he could see me, see his mother and see the effect he was having on me. I wanted to be bold for him, show myself to him in a way that was not accidental like it had been two days before.
He stepped out of the shower and now I could see him, every muscle, hair, crease of taught skin and of course, ‘him’, for that is what Charlie would be defined by in lust. His erection was firm, thick, flawless, still wet from the shower and covered with droplets of water. It was shaped and textured in a way that I’d imagined when I looked at porn as being close to perfection and now, it had been in me. It had been in my vagina, been to the very cervix of my womb and had deposited seed in my body. I didn’t know at that moment that I had already conceived but nor did I care if I had known.
“Do what you wish Charlie, I’m yours now”. He knelt in front of me, between my legs and kissed me. Kissed my thighs and the back of my hand, my knees and lap, kissed in small deliberate breaths along me and up me. When kissed between my breasts, my heart almost leapt in joy and I felt tears well in my eyes. I softly placed my hands on his head and pulled him to me. He took a nipple to his lips and suckled as assuredly as he had as an infant. He cupped me and rubbed my nipples, twisting them as only I thought knew how.

As he did this, my mind drifted back to when he was a baby. I looked forward to the nights when all was quiet and my husband and daughter were asleep. Charlie would feed from me and the sensations would excite me. Some nights I was so aroused I’d touch myself and later, after he was asleep, I’d go to the bathroom and bring myself to a climax. Now Charlie was attached to me again and I could indulge my desires. I ran my fingers through his wet hair and caressed his neck. “Yes Charlie, you’re such a fine man now”.
I began to finger myself, I looked at Charlie, and I had to do something. I felt the smooth skin where my pubic hair had been until two days ago. Its baldness still felt sexual in a teenage way. As I inserted a finger, I remembered how I’d shaved to admire myself and now, my son Charlie could share my appearance. If he had a girlfriend, would she be as smooth and aroused as me or would she be coy and modest? Would she, could she desire my son with any more intensity than I felt right then.
Charlie knew I was stroking myself, he paused for a moment to look there and then, in a moment it was his hand, his finger that had replaced mine. Suddenly it felt different – of course it did – it was a stranger’s touch. He inserted gently but without hesitation, his middle finger. I gasped. He stroked me inside, over my G spot and in and out. He rubbed my clitoris with his thumb and I placed my hand over his to urge him to keep going. A moment ago I had been close to climax; now I was on some plateau and I wanted to stay there
Charlie rose to full height on his knees. I slid forward, hoping that now he would penetrate me with urgency, with the urgency a teenage boy is meant to . Instead, he leant to my face and kissed me, deeply, passionately and meaningfully. I felt the love of a son expressed in ways most mothers can never experience, the probing warmth of his tongue sending messages of primal urges.
He kissed his way down again, kisses that sent shivers through me, small involuntary tremors of sensitive anticipation and then… ahh, the soft kiss where I needed to be kissed. I was already opened to him and I bloomed where he went. He kissed my clitoris and as he did, my eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. I felt his tongue run along the sides of my opening, tantalising the folds of my vagina, darting in and out of its shade and flicking again over my clitty. How could my son be so skilled in such a mature art? And then his finger returned and as his tongue roamed far and wide, his finger explored me again. I wanted all of him inside me, as much as I could get, two or three fingers if I could accommodate them and I wanted his tongue there as well. I knew that with Charlie I would become a sexual glutton and I knew he’d be my feast.
Tentatively now, he introduced a second finger and there was no pain. I thought there might be and yet it felt quite natural. He knew how to do the ‘come hither’ action and I felt the hardness of his fingers engorging the ripples of my genitals.
“Another Charlie, another”. I almost grunted the command but he knew what it meant. He brought a third finger into me and now I felt it – a stretching that exposed my opening in all its detail. He thrust his tongue into the revealed areas of my body and I was proud to be able to display myself.

The simultaneous pleasure of his tongue on my clitoris and fingers brought me to an astonishing climax – the naughty boy jammed his fingers hard against me inside and his thumb on my hard little pin-cushion and as the first thump hit me, I felt a small spurt of what I thought was my pee. Charlie looked very proud of himself as he knelt before me with his hand exactly where he had used it.
My exhausted body slumped in the chair and I just needed a few moments to collect myself. Charlie though, had other ideas and proceeded to start again – “No Charlie, I’m really sensitive there – just give me a moment”.
He withdrew but immediately went back to his skilled cunnilingus. My perfume would have been strong, pungent, charged and attracting. I had not showered since the evening before, I had been constantly aroused and damp. I’d masturbated a few times the day before and diddled through the night. I’d been to the bathroom several times and now had peed or squirted. A bold man might pause but my boy seemed to get strength from my smell. He tongued deeper and more strongly using flicks and stabs, he traced the letters of words over me and in me, from the soft top skin of my pubic mound and down to my perineum.
I came without warning and enjoyed passing out from giddiness. When I came to a moment later, for a second I had forgotten how this happened. Seeing Charlie kneeling between my legs, his face wet from me and a smile of pride made me feel free.
“Kiss me Charlie”. He did, passionately. I discovered my perfume was enticing and strong and realised why enlightened women and men happily performed this devoted act. He dipped his fingers into me and withdrew a glistening strand of my excitement. He brought it to his lips and sucked.
Charlie was 18 and knew all this. I wondered how a young man could be so skilled, I still do but I really don’t care.
I wanted to have unprotected sex with him, at that point not knowing he’d achieved conception two days earlier through my carelessness. For now though, I just wanted to taste him, take him in my mouth and give him some of the pleasure he deserved.
I motioned for him to stand and as he stood there, naked and still wet, I marveled that he was my child, that he’d been conceived by me. I had carried him for nine months and felt him grow inside me. Although my mind was still in turmoil, I’d had no regrets for what happened and I was excited for what would happen in the future. Of course my mind had gone through scenarios of what could happen, could go wrong, could be this, or that or a million other things but right there, all I wanted was my son.
Charlie has a nice sized penis – not porn star huge – just a nice normal size but quite beautiful to look at. His foreskin pulls back evenly and the head is a soft, classical shape. It begs to be touched and kissed, I couldn’t resist it then and I still can’t. Sometimes, when we don’t have the luxury of proper lovemaking, I’ll kneel before Charlie and take him in my mouth. He knows how to coax me and I know how to speed up or slow things. I’m very good at taking his whole length

and I love the gag I feel if he ejaculates while he grips my hair. Sometimes I open my mouth and let him cum on my tongue – I smile as I look at him and let him see his spent energy spill backwards.
But then, as he stood before me, I leant forward and kissed him, small kisses along his erection. I think I was trembling from my own climax and still had the hazy, lustful look of somebody who had just experienced an extremely intense climax. I gently cupped his testicles – men seem nervous about this – and started to stroke him. His penis had become a cock, it had gone from looking like an erection to looking like something from the sex toy catalogues I’d been looking at recently.
When I placed him on my tongue, it was heavy and wet, sweet and smooth. I placed my lips around him and began to swirl him in my mouth. I felt his hands resting on my head and wondered what he was thinking. Days before, his mother was a fantasy, today he had become a sophisticated lover and as he gazed down, he could see his length entering my hungry lips. I began masturbating him that way, still wanting him inside me in my aching vagina, but I wanted to feel the intensity of him on my taste. When I could no longer take more of his depth, I paused to absorb that feeling. I could feel him trying to press deeper but he was at full depth. I gave him the best care a man could ask for – lots of slow full engulfment, fast and furious action and swipes along his length. Several times I reached behind him and pulled him hard into me in a way something like a woman does when she is looking for vaginal penetration.
“This is all I can do today my darling” and as I felt him begin to tighten, I stroked him hard and lapped his engorged head. As I felt the first pulse, I swallowed him completely and I felt that pulse across my tongue and in my throat. To be quite truthful, I almost did gag that time but I fought the urge and as he let wave after wave surge out, I held him tightly. I withdrew him momentarily to get air and the pulled him back, a shiver wracked him and I felt more release from him. He stooped and placed his hands on my shoulders and I braced for him to buckle. Gasping, he stayed there for minutes. I looked down at the floor to concentrate and savour the moment, Charlie stayed unsteadily on his feet as his beautiful manhood returned to its less angry appearance.
Finally I stood and pulled a bath sheet from the rail. I wrapped him in it and began to dry what moisture there was still on him. The strong perfume of sex was all around us, my sharper scent and his musky richness. I could taste his rich semen and knew I’d done the right thing not to want him cum between my legs.

Anybody who read the first part of my recollection will know that somehow, despite my urgent precaution, I had already conceived by Charlie. If I had known that day, I have no doubt I’d have taken him. As it turned out, we achieved other things because of my caution but I’ll leave that for another day.


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