21 comments/ 168415 views/ 120 favorites Giving Mom What She Wants Pt. 01 By: TexasDomme1986 Day 1 Thomas Charles Weatherton III watched in distaste as his wife Annie sobbed into her hands. He was uncomfortable with any display of emotion, but seeing Annie, who was usually so calm and controlled, shuddering and sobbing was beyond what he really could tolerate. He looked away, taking in and approving of the neat and tidy kitchen, then out the window to the backyard, noting that the stain on the redwood deck would need to be refreshed this spring. He quickly estimated the number of gallons of stain they would need, and figured the cost in his head. By the time he glanced over at Annie, she'd controlled her tears and blown her nose, and—although her face was blotchy and red—she was no longer weeping. "Tom," she began, but he interrupted her. "Annie, I do not want another child. Charlie is finally well established in college and almost out of the nest. We are young for our position in life, and I don't want a baby messing that up." Tom sipped his coffee—the one cup a day he allowed himself—relishing the blend he had them create for him at the coffee shop down the street. He looked up at Annie again, whose eyes were refilling, and decided to try another tack. "Annie, you're only 38 and you're lovely, slim and beautiful. Why would you want to risk that with a pregnancy and childbirth?" Annie found her voice and began to explain. "Because I didn't get to enjoy being pregnant with Charlie. Being 17 and giving birth wasn't pleasant, especially with both our parents so disapproving. I hated being pregnant at 16, and hated the thought of being a mother. In fact, if our parents hadn't been so adamant about us having the child and getting married, you know I would have considered an abortion. Of course, thinking about that now makes me sick to my stomach—to not have Charlie in my life! But I would've considered it at the time." She looked sad. Tom was not appalled at his wife's pronouncement. He too would have considered an abortion and, while he loved his son Charlie in a remote and distant way, the thought of having another child was abhorrent to him. For a moment he allowed himself to think about why the idea was so appalling: he had to admit part of it was the thought of having sex with his wife. Of course, he loved Annie—again in a remote and distant way-but he didn't feel connected to her, and their sex life had slowed to almost nothing in the last few years. He knew that disappointed Annie, since she was an affectionate and passionate person, but Tom thought that it was normal for a couple who'd been married more than twenty years to have sex rarely. It didn't mean he didn't care for her; he just didn't much care for sex. In fact, what he loved most about Annie was the way she made his life so easy. She didn't demand much of him, and she cared for his needs, making sure he had healthy and appropriate meals, making sure his wants were satisfied, and allowing him to keep to the routine he loved and needed so much. This new demand of hers to have a baby at her age was both surprising and disappointing. He knew that any child she had would take attention away from him—and as selfish as he felt that made him—he was also sure it was part of his due as husband and provider. He also understood that this need of hers was part of her empty nest syndrome, and he was also uncomfortably aware that Charlie's imminent move out of the house for graduate school would leave her with not much attention and affection at all. He gentled his voice and tried once again. "Annie, I'm sorry. I know this is important to you, but I do not want to father anymore children in my life." He watched as she wiped her eyes one last time. She sniffled and then blurted out, "You know—I could be artificially inseminated." She avoided his eyes. "We don't have to have sex for me to have a baby." Tom laughed. "Yes I guess that's true; you could go to a sperm bank and be artificially inseminated." He watched her eyes widen as he realized that she'd meant using his sperm, and he'd made it clear he didn't want that either. Feeling awkward, he stood, and took his cup and plate to the sink, rinsing them studiously before turning to her once more. She sat at the table, hands in her lap, looking out over the backyard and blinking away tears. He was distracted and a little alarmed to see Charlie looming in the door to the breakfast nook, clad only in his running shorts and shoes, his shirt bunched in his hands. "Mom? What's wrong?" Charlie looked at his father anxiously. "Dad, what's going on? Why's Mom upset?" Tom, always a bit rattled to see his grown son—overgrown son, if the truth be told, since at 6'3" Charlie loomed over Tom's 5'8" frame—didn't direct his last comment to his son. Instead, he took one last attempt to end the confrontation with his wife. "Annie, I'm sorry, but I just can't be involved in this." He pushed past his son and headed for his car, his mind already turning to his busy day and the meeting he needed to prepare for. His wife and her drama slipped quickly out of his mind. -- Tom's day passed as all of his days did, balanced by discipline and routine. He worked prodigiously until 10:15am, when he took a short break for a bottle of water and a protein bar. Once he had finished his morning snack, he took himself to the men's room for his midmorning piss. Tom's bodily functions, like everything else in his life, were rigorously detailed and routine. He allowed himself five pisses a day. "Allowed" because Tom realized that he enjoyed those bathroom breaks far more than he should. Tom loved the feeling of his penis in his hand, loved watching himself piss, loved knowing that he had created what he expelled, even loved understanding the process the liquids he consumed went through before he expelled them. For Tom, it was the closest he came to real pleasure. In fact, his piss at the end of the day followed a short masturbation session in the shower twice a week, when he would stroke himself to orgasm and then immediately step out of the shower for his nightly piss. He convinced himself that his urinary output and its careful monitoring was simply another form of good hygiene, and another way for him to exert self-discipline, for ever since Tom's most singular moment of lack of self-discipline-having sex with a 16-year-old girl when he himself was 20 and in college—his life had been a model of discipline and restraint. He told himself his lesson in discipline had come at a very high cost, but he knew inside that Annie's pregnancy and the resulting chaos it had caused in both their families had taught him a deep and abiding love for an almost monk-like asceticism. At lunch, he had a salad from the deli downstairs from his office, disliking both the cost and the preparation, disappointed that he had—in his rush to leave his house that morning—left the meal that Annie prepared for him every day in the refrigerator at home. The thought of the meal and who had prepared it gave him pause, and, for a few seconds, he thought of his wife at the table that morning, sobbing as if her heart been broken. The thought soon passed, and he quickly immersed himself in his work again, loving the way that the numbers he dealt with didn't cry, didn't need, didn't want. Annie quickly faded from his mind. He worked late that night, taking a call from the West Coast and not returning home until past 8 o'clock. He had, of course, at 6 pm, notified Annie by text that he would not be home for dinner, since Tom disliked poor manners almost as much as he disliked breaks in routine, but Annie had not responded. Tom found that to be slightly uncivil, but understood that Annie, who was far more emotional than he, was probably still upset after their disagreement that morning. He knew that she would get over it soon, however, and he looked forward to their home returning to its peaceful calm. When he returned home that night, however, the house was dark, with no sign of Annie or Charlie. He found the note from Annie on the refrigerator, where he had long since designated a space for interfamily communication, long before texts on smart phones made it so easy to communicate with each other. Annie was staying the night at her sister Donna's house; Tom approved. Donna was a lovely woman who had chosen years ago to eschew any need for a husband and children in favor of a career, and Tom hoped that Donna could reinforce with Annie the idea that he himself had tried to leave this morning, that at Annie's advanced age, a child was ridiculous and unnecessary. Tom watched a documentary on television, took his nightly shower, had his end of the day piss, donned his pajamas, and read for exactly 30 minutes on his side of the bed before going to sleep. The lack of his wife in his bed bothered him not one bit; he didn't sleep any farther across the bed, nor did he miss the warmth she would have given the king-size bed. Day 2 Tom's day had not started well, although his run in the morning was perfect, shaving 22 more seconds off his time (he was training for a marathon, and as he dutifully recorded his time in a notebook set aside just for that purpose, he approved of his rigorous training schedule). But Annie's absence was felt again as he missed the breakfast she always made for him after his morning workout, full of protein and fruit. Because he was able to cook for himself, he scrambled two eggs and toasted his whole wheat bread, but it didn't taste the same, and for a moment he allowed himself to miss his wife. Charlie came in from his run as Tom was finishing rinsing his dishes, but the two men did not speak. Tom felt tense around his grown son. Charlie took after Annie, with brown hair and dark eyes, and skin that tanned easily in the sun. Charlie had already stripped off his tshirt before he came into the kitchen, and Tom watched with unease as Charlie filled a glass with water and drink it down in only his shorts and running shoes, his throat glistening with sweat as he chugged the water. Tom sweated too, of course, but he would never have stripped off his clothes in the kitchen, nor would he have drunk such large amounts of water immediately after a run. He and Charlie disagreed on several issues of training, although they both ran for exercise. Charlie would follow his run every day with use of the weights in their home gym in the basement, while Tom lifted weights only three times a week, and even then to a separate rigorous training schedule he followed. They had competed several times in the same marathons, and had traded besting each other on a number of occasions. Tom considered the father-son competition healthy and encouraged it, but loved the times he had beaten the younger man in the races. Tom's day proceeded much like the day before, in a pleasing and routine fashion, but he missed again his home-cooked lunch, choosing this day to have a protein bar from his stash in his desk. By the time he got home that evening Tom was starving, and he hoped his wife had forgiven him enough to cook a healthy and filling meal. When he entered the kitchen from the garage after parking his car, the smells that greeted him told him she had, and although Annie was not in the kitchen, the pans on the stove indicated she had done her job, and cooked them a nutritious dinner. Charlie was home for dinner that night, and Tom noticed that Charlie and his mother didn't chatter on as they usually did. Tom himself was not a big conversationalist, especially at meals, preferring instead to concentrate on chewing his food twenty times for each bite, thereby ensuring his digestion would be complete and healthy. Charlie and Annie usually carried on a conversation about their day, talking about movies they both wanted to see, people they both knew, and interests they both had. Many evenings Charlie would go out with his friends after dinner, but most evenings he had dinner with Annie and Tom. Although Charlie could have lived in a dorm while attending college, he had instead chosen to live at home. He and Tom had a deal that the money Charlie saved by not living on campus could be spent for Charlie's graduate MBA program, and Tom approved of the plan and the ability to save the funds and continue to gain interest on the college money market account. Tonight, however, Charlie and Annie didn't chatter on, and while Tom noted the difference, he wasn't really concerned. After dinner, Tom ensconced himself in his recliner in the media room, watching a documentary on World War II. When that finished, he picked up a book he had begun on Winston Churchill, and began to read. Annie and Charlie came in to watch a movie, and Tom noticed that the two sat as close as always, Annie leaning against her son. Charlie put his arm around his mother as usual as they watched the movie, and Tom felt some measure of peace reenter his life as things begin to go back to normal. The movie stretched beyond 10:30, but Tom took himself off for his shower at precisely 10:30 PM, allowing himself his biweekly masturbation and immediate piss afterward, enjoying both sensations and the routine they held for him. He donned his pajamas, slipped into bed and began to read. He noted when Annie came to bed, but, unlike she usually did, she did not lean across the bed to kiss his cheek, nor did she speak. He was annoyed at the lack of routine, but not really at the lack of affection. He supposed she would be this way for a while as she began to accept his decision about having another baby. He didn't offer to turn off the light, for Annie had long since learned to sleep with the light on, knowing that Tom always read for 30 minutes before he fell asleep—even if Annie fell asleep sooner. Tom was a little alarmed when Charlie entered the bedroom—another break in routine—and approached Annie, squatting down beside Annie's side of the bed to speak to her in hushed tones. Tom could not hear what Charlie was saying, but the bed shifted slightly when Annie scooted in from the edge of the bed, and Charlie, clad only in his boxer briefs, slipped into bed beside his mother. Tom kept his eyes fixed on his book, watching the pair out of his peripheral vision and hearing murmured conversation. He couldn't see everything that was going on, and he couldn't hear what they were saying, and both frustrated him slightly, but he did not feel like confronting them to find out. In fact, Tom never confronted anyone, seeking instead to ignore discord as long as possible. Tonight he was alarmed, but not enough to change his mind about asking. He felt the bed shift again and strained to see what was happening. Charlie held himself over his mother, leaning on one elbow, his other arm encircling her, and Tom was shocked to see Charlie kissing his mother, kissing her as he had never seen Charlie kiss her before, not as a son kisses a mother, but as a man kisses his lover. Annie's eyes were closed but she did not protest. In fact to Tom's shocked eyes, she appeared to be kissing Charlie back. Oh, they weren't French kissing—at least not yet—but they were kissing sensuously, Charlie's mouth brushing back and forth over Annie's, and Tom noted with some alarm that Charlie's free hand was stroking Annie's side, and was dangerously close to Annie's breast. Then Charlie's hand did the unthinkable: it cupped his mother's breast, and his thumb brushed over her erect nipple. Tom heard Annie gasp slightly, and he knew from years of intimacy with his wife that Annie was aroused. Tom was confused and shocked. What was going on? What was happening? He continued to hold the book in front of his face, forgetting to notice the time, as Charlie and Annie continued to kiss, and as Charlie continued to fondle his mother, his hand drifting across Annie's abdomen in her nightgown, then sliding across her hip. Tom lost sight of Charlie's large, tanned hand as it slipped under the covers, but he could imagine that Charlie's hand was now cupping his mother's hip, then her ass. Then Tom realized that his penis had become hard, that the idea of Charlie and Annie kissing and caressing one another was arousing him, and Tom didn't know whether to be disgusted at himself, or at his wife and son, or both. He lay there in shock, anxious and aroused, and wondered what to do. The bed shifted again, and Tom realized that Charlie had moved to lie fully on top of his mother, most of his weight in between her legs, as he slid his face down from her lips, kissing her neck and then her throat, and then, while Tom watched frozen in shock, Charlie pulled Annie's gown to one side and began to kiss and suckle her breast. Tom heard again Annie's intake of breath and knew she was excited. Tom understood the feeling; Annie's breasts were his favorite part about her, and he stopped pretending to read his book as he openly watched his son suckle his mother. Tom lay rigidly still, feeling his cock grow harder and harder beneath his pajamas. Annie's eyes were still closed but her head was thrown back in pleasure as Charlie suckled her nipples, moving from one to the other, his hand covering and squeezing the one his mouth was not ministering to. Tom watched and fascination as Charlie made love to his mother's breasts, and Tom allowed himself to wonder how many women Charlie had been with, since he pleasured his mother with much skill. He was rudely shocked out of his thoughts, however, when Charlie slid back up his mother's body to kiss her once more, and Tom felt his cock leaking pre-cum, leaving a wet spot on his pajama. Then he realized something else was happening as Charlie begin to drag his mother's nightgown up her body. Tom knew from experience that Annie didn't wear panties to bed, and he knew that in a moment Charlie would have his mother's body naked from the waist down. Part of him wanted to cry out and stop Charlie, while the other part of him wanted very badly to see what would happen. Over his own rapid breathing, Tom heard the pair murmur to one another, and saw Annie shake her head slightly. Was she telling Charlie to stop? Was she unwilling in all this? But then Charlie kissed his mother deeply, their open mouths fused, and Tom realized that all Annie had said no to was Charlie's removal of her gown altogether. The bed shifted again as Charlie moved his body firmly in between his mother's legs, and then Tom heard Annie inhale deeply and Charlie groan as he slid his cock into his mother's body. Tom was frozen, unable to move or speak, as he watched Charlie began to thrust his hips, and Tom knew that Charlie was fucking his mother. Tom watched, aroused beyond belief, as Annie began to shudder and shake, her body convulsing as she experienced an orgasm from her son's deep, penetrating thrusts. As the pair continued, Tom watched in horror as Annie's hands slid over her son's naked back, sliding the covers down slightly, and Tom could see that Charlie had kept his boxer briefs on, his cock sticking out through the convenience panel in front. For a moment, Tom wondered about that—both of them keeping their clothes on, and how erotic that was to him—before realizing that Annie's hands were now cupping Charlie's ass, pulling him into her as he thrust in and out of his mother. And Tom now could see it all. In their passion, the pair began to speak to one another, Charlie up on his elbows over his mother, looking down at her. "Oh, mom, you are so beautiful...Mom, mom," Charlie moaned, his mouth close to his mother's ear. Annie, for her part, was simply moaning, but Tom heard her breathing "my baby boy, my baby" with every thrust of her son's cock. Without knowing everything, Tom could still tell that Charlie was nearing his own orgasm, and he watched as Charlie thrust harder and harder into his mother, setting off another orgasm for Annie. "Mom, I'm so close, Mom..." And when Annie answered, "Yes, baby yes... give me what I need," Tom realized what was happening. And that was all it took, as Charlie thrust once, twice, three times more, and groaned long and deep. And Tom knew, knew without a doubt, that Charlie had cum inside his mother, filling her with his seed. Giving Mom What She Wants Pt. 01 Day 3 The next day passed in a blur for Tom. He could barely concentrate on his work, seeing again his son and his wife, Charlie kissing Annie, fucking Annie, even tenderly placing a pillow under her hips after filling her with his seed, leaving her with a kiss and a whispered "I love you, Mom." Tom had lain in bed beside Annie, not saying a word, finally reaching out and turning off the light, lying cold and damp in the bed for hours, listening to Annie sleeping peacefully beside him. In the morning, he and Annie both acted as if the night before had never happened, and Tom had run distractedly, losing over two minutes off his time, his mind circling over and over and over again the events of the night before. He knew he should ask his wife to explain herself, but he did not dare. He knew that the ensuing conversation would be confrontational and unpleasant, and he could not bring himself to ask her to explain her actions. He sat at the table after his shower and played with his scrambled eggs, sipping his morning coffee with some relief as it sharpened his drowsy and sleep-deprived brain. He watched Annie washing a pan at the sink, her back to him, and noticed that she gazed out the window over the sink more than she usually did, bracing her hands and body against the sink. She had not spoken a word to him all morning. Tom knew a moment of panic when he heard the back door open and saw his son enter, Charlie's tshirt plastered to his broad chest with sweat, and he watched with dismay as Charlie stripped off his shirt like always. The last thing Tom wanted to see was his son's naked body. But Charlie stripped anyway, then filled his glass with water to drink. Annie turned her head, and she and Tom both watched as Charlie drank the water down deeply, the muscles in his tanned throat moving, his thickly defined chest muscles flexing as he threw his head back, a thin stream of water dribbling from the side of his mouth down his chin and neck. Tom watched his wife watching his son, and saw again desire on her face. He felt the blood pounding in his head. Charlie finished his water and looked at his mother, then went to her at the sink, fitting his body to hers head to toe, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Annie's hands slid over Charlie's arms she leaned back into him. Tom felt like an intruder in his own kitchen and wanted desperately to leave, but he was again frozen as he watched mother and son held tightly together by Charlie's strong arms. He watched Charlie's head dip down his mouth close to his mother's ear, and Tom heard Charlie murmuring to her, but could not hear what was said. When Charlie's mouth descended farther to the place where her neck and shoulder met, Tom felt himself move, going out the door blindly to his car. Had he not taken the same route to work every day for 15 years, he didn't think he would've made it to the office. As it was, he could not remember the drive itself. He missed his 10:15am break and realized only when his need to became urgent that he had failed to relieve his bladder since early morning. His hasty routine that day gave him no pleasure, and it was with some fear and trepidation that he took the drive home that evening. He entered the house to the garage into the kitchen and noted with relief that dinner was cooking again, but Annie said not a word to him as she busied herself preparing dinner. Tom wondered with some anxiety whether Charlie would appear for dinner. He did, and Tom watched as Charlie and Annie sat closer than normal, their conversation more quiet and muted than normal, but Tom noted that Charlie touched his mother more often than normal as well, his hand lingering on her arm, his arm around her and resting on her chair back after he had finished his meal. The two continued to speak after their dinner was finished, and as normal neither spoke to him, but Tom felt unnaturally excluded by the pair, and he tried to think of something to say. When Annie rose and began cleaning the dishes off the table, Tom took his plate and glass to the sink as he always did, and then went to his recliner in the media room. On this night, however, he was too distracted to read or watch TV, but sat instead with his book in front of him, waiting for whatever would happen next. Neither Charlie nor Annie came into the room, and Tom wondered distractedly whether they were together somewhere else in the house; he realized only later that Charlie had left right after dinner, and, when he finally took himself off for his shower, he stood under the water until it ran cold, wondering where Charlie had gone and if he would return. He waited, chilled and anxious, in bed, his book propped firmly in front of his face, as Annie slid into bed. As had happened the night before, it was only a few minutes before Charlie entered the room in his boxer briefs and squatted beside the bed to speak quietly to his mother. Annie responded, and Tom could see as Charlie leaned close for a kiss, then stood up. This time, Charlie removed his briefs, his cock already hard and straining, before lifting the covers and sliding into bed beside his mother. The two embraced, and Charlie began kissing his mother, Annie responding with passion, their arms around each other, their bodies straining towards one another. This was not the tentative awkward pair of the night before; these were lovers. Tom knew with inevitable certainty what would happen tonight if he did not speak. His throat dry and rusty as if he had not spoken all day, he tried. "Annie," he began, but stopped when he felt Charlie's hard dark gaze on him. "No, dad," Charlie ground out, his eyes on Tom's face, "you don't want to be involved, remember?" Tom stopped, and then felt the blood drain from his head as Charlie, his eyes still on his father's face, bent his head to his mother's breast and began suckling at her nipple. Only then did Tom realize Annie was naked in bed. He watched as Annie's hand lifted to Charlie's head, wondering if she would push her son away and speak to her husband, but all Annie did was thread her fingers into her son's hair and pull him closer still. The lovemaking between the two was more intense this time, and Tom watched in aroused fascination as Charlie lay between his mother's thighs, his mouth roaming all over her clit and pussy, his tongue thrusting in and out of her wet cunt, as his cock would thrust a few minutes later. Tom lay frozen, his book forgotten, his cock rock hard beneath his pajama pants. When Annie moaned as Charlie's cock slid into her, Tom realized that his hand had found its way down to his cock, and he was stroking himself as he watched the pair fuck. It only took a few strokes for Tom to cum, and he groaned involuntarily as his short, hard cock spasmed beneath the cotton fabric. Annie went still, and Tom heard her ask Charlie about the noise. Charlie didn't pause, continuing to stroke his cock in and out of his mother's pussy, but he turned his head and looked his father in the eyes as he said to his mother, "It wasn't anything, mom, just dad cumming in his PJs." Annie turned her head and looked at Tom for the space of a moment, then turned back to watch her lover above her. Tom felt embarrassed and ashamed—and aroused again—as mother and son ignored him lying a few feet away in the king size bed. He watched as Charlie pleasured his mother again and again, feeling the wet cotton of his pajamas plaster itself to his semi-hard cock, the unpleasant clammy feeling humiliating him even more. When Charlie finally spilled his seed into his mother once more, Tom came again, this time not even caring that the pair heard his groan of completion, but doubting they did, since their attention was focused so completely on each other. Tom heard Charlie groan words of love for his mother as he came inside her, and he watched Annie lift her head to kiss her son as he gave her what she wanted. Giving Mom What She Wants Pt. 02 Day 6 Tom looked at his hands resting on his desk. How did his life spin out of control? Even his beloved routine could not comfort him now. How could he have thought that he could handle this? Less than a week ago, his world had been the perfect, orderly, tight ship, and he the captain sailing through calm seas. Now he was buffeted from every side by uncertainty and indecision, two things he hated above all else. He didn't know who was at the helm anymore, but it certainly wasn't him. The weekend had been a bewildering nightmare for so many reasons. When he rose on Saturday morning, determined to confront his wife and son about their behavior, neither was in the house. No breakfast awaited him in the kitchen, and his puffed-up courage deflated like a pricked balloon. He made a halfhearted attempt to cook his own breakfast, giving up when he burned the scrambled eggs. He stood at the window in the breakfast nook where he had so casually figured the gallons of stain needed for his deck a few days ago, and looked out on a sunshine-filled day without seeing a thing. He drank his morning coffee without tasting it, and decided to work on the deck while the beautiful weather held. At least it would be something to do, something else to think about. He and Charlie often did minor projects around the house and yard together, spending a weekend completing something together. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. A father-son project would reset the clock—back to where it had been. He'd go and get the supplies and text Charlie to let him know that he needed to help his father. Yes, that would put things back into perspective and Tom's control. He left the DIY store a couple of hours later, determined to immerse himself into the deck project with all the enthusiasm he could muster. When he got home, however, all enthusiasm left. He entered the kitchen through the garage only to find his wife and son in a close embrace, kissing as passionately as they had the night before. While Annie seemed to start with surprise and even look a bit guilty to be caught kissing her son by her husband, Charlie was unrepentant in the face of his father's stern look. In fact, Charlie continued to hold his mother in their incestuous embrace, and even drew her closer as Tom watched. Charlie kept his eyes on his father's face as he leaned down to kiss Annie again. Tom didn't—couldn't—stay to watch. He changed into old clothes and threw himself into the deck project, sanding, replacing nails as needed, and preparing to apply the stain. When Charlie joined him half an hour later, the two men did not speak, but continued to work in the rapidly warming air. Tom worked harder than he had in years, trying not to think about the situation inside the house. Ultimately, the distraction failed. With each rhythmic swipe of the brush applying the stain, he felt again the rhythm of the king-size bed as his son stroked his mother's pussy. Tom found himself aroused most of the morning. Lunch cured that. When Annie joined them a couple of hours later with sandwiches and cold drinks, the three sat at the round table where it was placed in the yard, not speaking. Tom felt miserable. His family—his whole world—was irreparably damaged by his wife's and son's conduct, and he felt angry and abused. He was gathering his courage to speak to the two when Charlie casually leaned across to Annie and caressed her face, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip in the process. The look of naked desire and love on his wife's face robbed Tim of his breath, and he sat frozen, watching the two. Annie's smile at Charlie was one of love and passion, one that Tom could not remember ever being directed at him. Two days later, he still burned at the memory of what he witnessed. It was brief—only a few seconds—but in those few moments, Tom realized that something precious he'd had the opportunity to have for all those years was slipping away. Had he ever had such a relationship with his wife? Tom cupped his forehead with his hands, rubbing at the ache that seemed to have taken up residence there as he remembered Saturday afternoon. The rest of the day was a blur of hard work, with Tom and Charlie staining the large outdoor decking together in a weird father-son competition to see who could finish first. The hot sun beat down on them, and Tom's back ached miserably as Charlie continued to stain more square footage than his father. At some point, Annie joined them with lemonade and ice as she always did when they had a home project in the works, and Tom and Charlie stopped and took a break. Again, neither man spoke. Even for Tom, the silence felt unnatural and unusual, and served only to heighten the tension between the three. When Annie announced that she would leave for the grocery store and pick up something for dinner, Tom was relieved. He and Charlie finished the project shortly after that, and Tom took to the shower, his entire body aching, feeling every one of his 42 years. He stood under the hot water in the shower, head down, letting the water beat down on his back and neck, and felt not an ounce of desire to touch himself, an unusual situation for him. When he emerged in clean clothes a few minutes later, Charlie and Annie were laughing in the kitchen. He stood just outside the door and listened to them talk, feeling excluded and empty. Had at least being present for their laughter and conversation all those years been pleasure for him? He hadn't thought so, hadn't really thought he'd noticed either of them, but clearly being the third wheel in this growing relationship was painful. He went into the media room and sat in his recliner in the semi-darkness, not reading, not turning on a lamp or the television. He didn't know how long he'd been there before Annie came in and turned on a lamp. She sat on the couch across from him and looked at him for a long time before finally speaking. "Tom, I know this is all a bit much for you." He looked across at her, seeing how vital and young she looked. Was she glowing? Was she already pregnant? The thought brought a pang of something he didn't want to address. "I'm not sure what it is you are so upset about, Tom. You've not wanted me for a long time. Now that someone does you seem to be depressed and unhappy, and I don't know why." Was she really that naïve? Did she really not see how wrong this entire situation was? Could she not understand that he had lost his place in the world? She went on. "This attitude of yours is unacceptable, and you need to stop pouting." Tom looked up surprised, and felt moved to respond, even to confront. "This attitude of mine? How can you say that?" He heard the petulance in his voice but couldn't stop. "You and Charlie are having sex. You're having sex with your son." He watched her wince with some malicious satisfaction. But then Annie shrugged and tilted her head, a look he recognized, one he had enjoyed for years, knowing it was her way of accepting the inevitable. "Tommy," she said a bit reproachfully, and something in Tom melted a little. He'd been called Tommy his whole young life, stopping everyone only after he and Annie had been married for a year, thinking that it was time for everyone to respect him as the man of his own house, the husband and father he had become. But he'd missed hearing Annie call him that. "Tommy, the only thing that has changed in this house is that two people who love each other are showing it in a way different than they have before. Charlie and I have always cared deeply for each other. And I have cared for you, and still do. What else has changed?" She watched him process that for a moment and then rose to leave the room. "Supper in 5 minutes, so go wash up." Tom watched her leave, and then went to wash his hands and join his family at the table. While dinner should have been an exercise in frustration, it was instead a time for Tom to think. Annie had made sure that his French fries were well done and crispy, just like he liked, and there was a little pot of mayonnaise for him to dip them into. His burger was also well-done, without any extraneous condiments, and he ate with a bit of the enjoyment he'd felt earlier in the week as he'd convinced his wife—he'd thought—that another child was not in their best interests. He watched, mostly silent, as Annie and Charlie talked and laughed, and again, he felt a little like normal was returning to their family. Then Charlie leaned over to Annie and rubbed away a bit of mustard at the edge of her mouth. Annie laughed, glowing and happy, and the two leaned closer so that Charlie could kiss her and give the edge of her mouth a little lick. Tom watched the two and his heart pounded in his chest. How could Charlie be so affectionate and casual? And how could Annie accept Charlie's gestures of love without leaving Tom to one side? His dinner forgotten, he felt like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away, and he watched with envy as Charlie flirted with Annie. It was then that he realized what was different. It was then that he realized that, while he had not been affectionate with his wife over their marriage, he had been competitive with his son. And it appeared that his son had won. Tom wondered if Charlie was aware of how defeated his father felt, watching his son and his wife together. When Charlie leaned back after kissing Annie, his casual glance towards his father told Tom everything he needed to know. While it was clear that Charlie loved his mother, Charlie was also very well aware that he had won over his mother from his father, and every moment spent together with his mother and father buoyed Charlie's confidence even more. The look he gave his father was one of triumph. Tom pushed away from the table, leaving the remains of his meal where it was and went into the garage, where he stood, his temper boiling. I should just drive away—he thought to himself—I should just leave them both here. But even as he stood there pondering a destination, his anger drained away and anxiety and fear took its place. What would become of him? What was he supposed to do in this new paradigm? How did he fit in? This felt like chaos, something he hated. All he wanted was the comfort of his discipline and routine again. Tom lost track of how long he stood in the garage waiting and wondering, before going back into the house. He took another shower, this time determined to regain his routine, but when he touched his cock for his biweekly masturbation, the only image he could see in his head was that of his son rising up on his elbows above his mother, Charlie's young and muscled body heaving as he thrust into his mother over and over again, and Annie's head thrown back in joy and pleasure as she orgasmed around her son's cock. Tom gave up, dried off, put on his pajamas, and slid into bed, his exhaustion overtaking him. When he awoke hours later, it was to feel the now-familiar movement of the bed as Charlie and Annie fucked, but this time it was Annie's lamp that was on, and it was Annie on top of Charlie, riding him. Charlie's hands covered her full, heavy breasts and squeezed as she thrust her hips back and forth. It was Charlie's voice he heard when he awoke: "That's it mom...that's it. Ride me, mom....ride my cock with that hot, wet pussy." And ride Annie did. Tom never knew that Annie liked to be on top like this—they'd certainly never made love this way. Her head thrown back in ecstasy, Annie rode Charlie and his cock like a professional, first with her knees down on the bed, her body rising up and down, her heavy, full breasts swaying. Tom watched for what felt like hours as she moved and shook, riding and cumming, riding and cumming. Then she leaned down to kiss Charlie and adjusted her position, bringing her knees up and placing her feet on the bed as Charlie thrust up into her, his hands on her hips. Tom watched it all as Annie came over and over and over again. Father and son shared the same expression of amazement and admiration as the beautiful woman they both loved pleasured herself on her son's cock. As she moaned and shook, Tom felt his throat tighten as he watched her take control. The pressure of Tom's hard cock eventually became unbearable, and he untied his pajama bottoms to give himself access. As Annie moved and contorted her body over her son's body, Tom stroked his cock and came in his hand, then continued to stroke his cock using his own cum as lubricant. When he heard Charlie begin his now familiar mantra—"Mom, I'm cumming, I'm cumming"—Tom joined his son and came again in his hand, harder than he'd ever remembered. As he felt the ropes of cum leave his cock, he realized it was spattering Annie's leg, and knew that he had moved closer while watching his son and wife together. The three breathed hard and fast in unison as they rested, and Tom again felt both comforted and frightened. He knew he fell asleep after that, because he didn't even remember Charlie leaving the bed, and he slept late the next morning, waking long after the sun slanted in the bedroom windows. For a few minutes he lay in his marital bed and thought about the situation, then determined that he would follow his normal Sunday routine with a vigorous run and weights workout. He was sticky however, with the cum he'd expressed, and he took a quick shower first, followed by a satisfying piss. He was whistling when he entered the breakfast nook, so it was surprising that Charlie and Annie didn't hear him. They were lost in each other, however, as Charlie bent his mother over the sink, his naked body thrusting, his cock in sliding in between her thighs, his arms around her as his hands cupped her full, heavy breasts to pull her back into him. Annie was dressed in a sundress, lifted to her hips, her thong panties pushed to one side to give her son access, moaning in time with his thrusts—"Yes, Charlie, my baby, yes"—and was about to orgasm when Tom walked in. Charlie noticed Tom first, but didn't slow his thrusts down at all. In fact, he held Tom's gaze while he continued to thrust into his father's wife. Annie's head was down, her eyes closed, as she gasped in pleasure. Tom felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. For some reason, he thought that Charlie and Annie's nighttime sex had been all they had enjoyed, that somehow it wasn't really an affair that they would engage in, but had simply been Charlie servicing his mother's desire to be impregnated. This—this—was different. This was pleasure, and sex, and...mating...on a level Tom had never experienced. He picked up his pace and ran through the kitchen and through the garage, not stopping, and ran hard and fast until he could run no more. He eventually stopped, panting and exhausted, in a park a few miles from the house, one where he and Annie had taken Charlie when he was small. Tom sat on a bench and watched children playing, chasing one another around the green grass and sandy play area. Their screams and loud laughter echoed in the late spring air, and the normality of the scene soon lulled him into thought. He remembered Charlie at that age—eight or nine—already a big boy for his age, calling out to Tom to watch him perform some act of daring. Annie had always been the more attentive caregiver, but Tom had enjoyed Charlie's athleticism, and it wasn't too many years after the playground time that Tom and Charlie had begun competing in their runs. Charlie struggled at first, but then began to occasionally win in their races. Tom was wondering whether that early competition had led to the current events when he felt a hand clap his shoulder. "Dad, I thought I'd find you here. We need to talk." Tom slid down the bench a bit as Charlie dropped to the other end. The men eyed each other warily, then both determinedly looked out to the children playing. "Dad, things are changing. Have changed." Charlie cleared his throat. "And are about to change more." Tom wondered what he could say to regain control here. "Charlie, I don't need you to lecture me..." Charlie interrupted. "Mom needed me to give her what you wouldn't." Tom looked at Charlie in disbelief, but Charlie wasn't looking at Tom, and he continued on. "Mom's always wanted a big family, and it wasn't fair for you to deny her what she needs. I'll give her this baby she wants, and maybe more." Tom continued to stare at his son, wondering if he had indeed missed, for all those years, Annie's desire for more children, and Charlie finally turned to his father. "And you're going to make sure she's happy and taken care of." Tom finally found his voice. "Charlie, what do you think gives you the right to tell me how to take care of my wife and family?" Charlie looked steadily back at Tom. "I love Mom. And that gives me the right." The two men looked at each other for a minute, then Charlie turned his gaze back on the children at play. "I can't wait for Mom to get pregnant—she'll be so beautiful and ripe. And happy." He looked back at Tom. "And our child will be beautiful too, don't you think, Dad?" Tom felt his stomach drop as he considered—for the first time—that if Charlie impregnated Annie, any child she would have would be Charlie and Annie's child—and his grandchild. He heaved himself to his feet. "Charlie, I don't know what to say to you. I can't—I don't..." He broke off. "I need to run." He turned away and started walking to the street, but he could still hear Charlie's last comment. "It's happening, Dad. Get your head around it." Tom ran until he could run no more. Hours later, after a protein shake for dinner, he lay in bed, waiting. He had to admit to himself that he was already aroused, that he had no desire to masturbate in the shower, that he wanted, with everything in him, to lie next to his wife and son while they fucked or mated or made love or whatever it was they chose to do. He finally acknowledged that somewhere in himself what they were doing made some strange sort of sense, and while it confused and bewildered him, it also excited him more than he'd ever been excited. When Annie came to bed, she first removed her robe and stood next to the bed in the circle of light from her lamp, naked and glorious, her mature curves soft and full. She looked at him, lying still on his side of the bed, facing her, no book in his hands, no excuse for his presence, and smiled at him. He was too breathless to return her smile, but he continued to gaze at her as she climbed into bed, and this time, she slid across to kiss his forehead. "Tommy," she breathed, as she caressed his cheek. Tom tried desperately to think of something to say—anything—but, before he could think of a thing, she was already turning away as the bedroom door opened, and Charlie entered. Charlie was fully naked, and Annie opened her arms to him as he slid into bed. Tom watched helplessly as Annie and Charlie embraced, Charlie's mouth brushing Annie's before sliding down the side of her neck to Annie's delighted laughter. Charlie's lips took hold of her right nipple before Annie could even speak, and Tom watched the two wrestle lightly before Charlie began to suckle Annie's breast in earnest. He was lightheaded with envy. He wanted that breast, wanted to suckle on those breasts he had ignored for years, wanted to clutch her other breast with its soft, full flesh as he used his mouth and tongue and teeth on its partner. The rest of it—he couldn't really get his head around—but he knew that watching Charlie suckle Annie's breasts was excruciating. Charlie didn't stay there long tonight, however; he had other plans. After paying tribute to the twins, Charlie slid lower, his face coming to rest in front of his mother's shaven pussy. Annie threaded her fingers through Charlie's curly dark hair with a long, drawn out sigh, and Charlie began to lick, making his tongue flat and broad, first sucking her puffy lips into his mouth, then trading them for her clit, then pointing his tongue and thrusting it into her hole. She moaned once, then again, while Tom watched and unconsciously moved closer, fascinated by Charlie's skill. Tom certainly hadn't been able to satisfy Annie at 20—rarely satisfied her at all—and the fact that Charlie seemed to be able to give Annie exactly what she needed left Tom wondering if he was the only man who hadn't gotten lessons in how to please a woman. Giving Mom What She Wants Pt. 02 But something else was tugging at his attention. Annie's beautiful heavy breasts were left unattended, and Tom wondered what would happen if he reached out and simply—touched the one closest to him. Would Annie or Charlie protest? Jeer at him and humiliate him? Would they even notice him? Charlie was occupied with his ministrations to his mother's pussy, and Annie's eyes were closed, her hands fondling and caressing her son's head as he pleasured her. He was so close, perhaps a foot away. He slowly reached out a hand and touched Annie's nipple, stroking it with one finger. Annie made a sound in her throat and Tom almost snatched his hand away, but a look at her face showed that she was smiling and looking at him. He kept his finger on her nipple, stroking and flicking, and the increasing pressure in his cock told him last night's excitement was nothing compared to this. Keeping her left hand on Charlie's head between her thighs, Annie lifted her right arm above her head, and Tom had more room to touch, so touch he did. He cupped her heavy breast in his hand and slid it underneath, lifting it slightly up and away from her chest. His mouth watered and his breathing grew heavy and rapid as he stared at her fleshy tit, dying for a taste. He moved toward her, and Charlie stopped and lifted his head at the sudden movement; for a moment the two men stared at each other, then Charlie deliberately lowered his head back to his mother's pussy and renewed his efforts. Tom drew a deep, deep breath and inhaled Annie's scent. He didn't realize how much he'd missed it until he smelled her: musky and slightly fragranced, with a unique scent that was all her own, like tart ripe fruit. As he lowered his mouth to her nipple, his cock began to ache with its own fullness, and for a moment he thought he might cum in his pajamas before he even touched her. But he maintained, and the first taste of her after so long was as heady as the scent had been. He licked, then sucked, then took the entire nipple into his mouth, and for a moment felt lightheaded again, but then the world seemed to right itself as Annie curled her arm around her husband, holding him to her breast while he suckled. It was only a few seconds before Tom felt his cock throbbing and then he knew he had cum, a slow and enervating drain of his cum out of his cock, untouched by his hands, soaking his pajamas. He breathed hard against Annie's nipple for a moment, then continued to suckle, his right hand cupping her breast, his left against his own cheek, feeling the relief and release of the pleasure in his cock and balls as the pressure decreased. And then the unthinkable happened—something that had never happened before. As he suckled on his wife's breast, while his son voraciously licked and sucked her cunt, before Tom could stop, before he could even believe what was happening, he pissed himself. Giving Mom What She Wants Pt. 03 If Tom had thought his previous few days had been a nightmare, they were nothing compared to the few minutes after his unfortunate "accident." The moment he realized what he had done, he pushed away from Annie and sprang from the bed, his untied pajama pants sagging wet and clammy around his thighs. Annie and Charlie were frozen by his sudden movement, and Tom watched their expressions with dread in the few seconds following his abrupt actions. Even now, hours later, sitting at his desk, Tom could remember with absolute clarity the looks on his wife's and son's faces as they took in his disheveled and soiled pajamas. Annie looked surprised and disappointed, but Charlie was clearly annoyed at his father's interruption of his mother's pleasure. Then both of them realized what had happened. The look of pity and understanding Annie gave him was etched clearly in his memory, even though Tom saw it for only a few seconds before rushing into the bathroom. He stripped off his pajama pants, and stood shaking and damp in front of the toilet, willing his now-limp penis to urinate. But his body had betrayed him, and had already expelled what it was prepared to disgorge. His hands shook as he started the water in the shower, determined to wash away the humiliation he felt for releasing his bladder in bed with his wife and son. Now, the next day, at his office, removed and distant from the events of the night before, it seemed ludicrous to have been more humiliated by his unfortunate accident than by the actions of his wife and son cuckolding him in his own bed, but that was the truth of the matter. As he stood under the hot spray the night before, Tom had tried to think through his next actions, but the humiliation of the previous few minutes was utter and complete, and it consumed all his thoughts. What could he say? What could he do? What would ever erase those looks from his memory? When he emerged from the shower a few minutes later, he found a clean pair of pajamas neatly folded beside the sink in the bathroom. His shame was now complete. Annie had provided him with a replacement pair of pajamas and had taken away the soiled and wet pair he had so recently worn. He stood another 10 minutes in the bathroom, clad in his clean pajamas, not daring to leave, not looking at himself in the mirror, just standing still, wondering what his life had become. How he had lost control. When he finally opened the bathroom door, it was to find Annie tucking in the fresh sheets on the bed, with Charlie nowhere to be found. Tom had decided to ride out the embarrassment he felt, but the look of pity and understanding on Annie's face undid him. "Tommy," she began, and the sweet remembered feelings that his childhood name brought back to him sent tears rushing to his eyes. She left the bed and walked to him, enfolding him in a hug. Tom was never comfortable with affection, but Annie's hugs were legendary; she loved touching, loved holding, loved giving the comfort of her body to others in an unselfish display of affection. For once, Tom welcomed her touch. He stood in the circle of her arms, not returning the affection, but simply allowing her to comfort him. "Tommy, it's okay. We know what happened. You just felt everything so strongly that your body let go." Her understanding was almost more than he could take, and the tears that welled up in his eyes were the first he had shed in many years. He pushed away from her, bringing a hand to cover those tears and shield himself from what he knew would be her understanding look. "I can't believe that happened," he choked out. "I am so embarrassed." He turned his back on his wife and faced the window, seeing only his reflection in the dark glass, a grown man whose life had become one of chaos and humiliation. The ironic difference between the man who had stood at his kitchen window a few days before looking out onto a world he felt he dominated, and this man looking into a darkened window that revealed only his own confused and humiliated reflection, did not escape him. The only thing that saved him from complete and utter embarrassment was that his son was no longer in the room. And then Charlie came back. "Sheets are in the wash, Mom," he announced, and Tom felt the utter despair of the moment wash over him. He closed his eyes, willing the world to disappear, but the world refused to grant him his wish. He opened his eyes again and saw in the window's reflection his wife and son, arms around each other as they watched him. The agony was unbearable. He felt alone and bewildered. And then the moment got worse as Charlie moved towards him. Tom could see him approach in the reflection in the window, but could not imagine what Charlie wanted with him. "Dad, it's okay. Mom explained to me that you always take a piss after you cum in the shower." Tell him whirled around to face his wife. "You know? You know that I—" He couldn't finish, couldn't put into words the routine he thought only he knew about. The look Annie gave him would have been comical had Tom seen it directed at someone else. "Tommy, we've been married for 20 years. Of course I know what you do in the shower, and what you do as soon as you step out." She smiled at him. "Every time we had sex, your race to the bathroom after you came was the fastest you would move outside your marathons." Tom knew she was trying to lighten the moment and make him feel better, but he didn't believe anything would ever erase the shame and embarrassment he felt in those few moments after his accident. "Come on you two," Annie said. "Let's finish making the bed and get to sleep. It's very late." Tom turned automatically to the bed to comply, but what Annie said struck him the moment he did. Did she really expect him to get in bed with her and Charlie after what happened? Was Charlie now a permanent partner in their marital bed? He wanted to ask, wanted to confront her, but he was drained and exhausted. Instead, he simply put the clean pillowcase on his own pillow and watched as Annie put the pillowcases on the others. Charlie turned off the bathroom light and, as soon as his mother had slid into her side of the bed, turned off the lamp on her side, then slid in next to his mother. Tom stood beside the bed in the darkened room, hands dangling by his side, until Annie patted his side of the bed with her hand, then he pulled back the covers and slid underneath, lying on his back, rigid with embarrassment. He heard Annie's murmur to Charlie, then felt her hand touch his shoulder. He rolled away from her onto his side, hot tears of shame and embarrassment burning his eyes. How long he would have stayed there, rigid and humiliated, he didn't know, but it was only a few seconds before he felt Annie slide closer to him, one arm enfolding him as she spooned him. The hot tears overflowed then, and all the confusing emotions of the past few days became too much. Tom wept in the circle of his wife's arm until he fell into an exhausted sleep. ---------- When he woke this morning it was to find he had overslept again, and the bedroom was slightly warm and empty. His eyes felt hot and sticky, his head thick and sluggish. A quick glance at his alarm clock told him he would not be able to have his run this morning, and that depressed him even more. He showered and walked warily into the kitchen, but found with some relief that Annie and Charlie had already gone for the day. Now, sitting at his desk in his office—a place of safety and calm for him—he knew that Charlie was right: things would never be the same. For he knew, as he slept in the circle of his wife's arms the night before, she had slept in the circle of his son's. The day passed slowly, as days following emotional outbursts always seemed to do, his routine disrupted and his head aching. Lunch was a half-eaten protein bar, and his bathroom breaks—usually a source of at least a smug certainty of his healthy and regular bodily functions—were simply reminders of his embarrassment the night before. By mid-afternoon, Tom gave up, realizing that he would have to recheck any work he had done when he came to work the next day, and he distractedly drove home. Annie's car was was in the garage, and Tom noticed that Charlie's truck was parked in the driveway. He sat in his car for a few minutes after parking, wondering what they would say to him—could say to him—after the events of the night before. Finally, with a deep breath, he entered the house through the kitchen. It was too early for anything to be on the stove, but he looked anyway, hungry and tired and wanting nothing more than Annie's comforting presence in the kitchen like normal, bringing some semblance of routine back to his life. It was not to be. As he walked through the kitchen toward the media room, he heard his wife and son and the sounds of what was becoming the new familiar: they were fucking. He rounded the corner into the room and saw them there, on the couch, where they had sat for so many years as mother and son, watching movies and television together. Now they sat there as lovers, Charlie seated with his mother straddling him, still in her work clothes, her skirt lifted above her hips, her feet in their heels on either side of his hips, her bare ass moving up and down as she lifted and dropped her pussy up and down his cock. Charlie's hands were on her hips, directing her movements and squeezing the soft flesh there, while his mouth covered one breast as it protruded lewdly from her half-unbuttoned shirt. Her bra was pulled up and aside, and Tom's tired and distracted brain immediately divided into two disparate thoughts: one, that he envied Charlie, not for his place in his mother's cunt, but for his mouth on the comforting breast of his mother. The other thought, that if Charlie was successful in impregnating his mother, Annie's breast would be exposed in this way for her new infant child, rocketed through him, and he registered equally overwhelming feelings of loss and of arousal at the thought. He watched the pair as they mated, immersed in each other, Annie's head thrown back in ecstasy and pleasure as she rode the cock of her son, Charlie lost in his mother's body. Tom's own body reacted as it did now every time he watched his wife and son together, his cock hardening, his heart pounding, his breathing increasing. Annie's moans as she approached her orgasm only served to spur on her son's, and it was clear that Charlie was holding on by a thin, thin thread to the control of his own release. When Annie tumbled over the edge--moaning "my baby my baby boy, yes, yes"--Charlie gave his own shout of pleasure--"mom, mom, I'm cumming inside you"--and Tom felt his own orgasm approaching. He ran for the bedroom, unbuttoning his dress pants as he went, terrified that he would cum and then lose control of his bladder the way he had the night before. But he made it to the bathroom before ejaculating, holding his erupting penis over the toilet, groaning as he came. He tried to hold back the piss that came immediately after, but it was urgent and satisfying, and he groaned a little more as the stream left him. He comforted himself in his own mind as he shook off his penis and tucked it back inside his underwear that this time he did not lose control and have an accident, but he knew it had been a close thing, and a sense of despair filled him. Was this the product of middle age? He knew some men had problems with urination as they got older, but he had thought it was the opposite: that they were no longer able to produce the stream of urine. Perhaps he needed to go to his doctor and get checked out. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Perhaps all of this was a physical manifestation of entering middle age. He opened the bathroom door to find Annie in the bedroom, sitting on their king size bed, facing the door. The look on her face drained away the last of Tom's euphoria, and he faced her, framed in the doorway, in his own mind, an object of pity and humiliation. He knew that she knew what had just happened, and that knowledge forced another crack in the now-thin veneer of his confidence. "I don't want to talk about it," he said as he started to rush out of the room. "That's fine," she said as she rose from the bed. "Dinner will be a bit late tonight. I need to run a couple of errands." "Of course it will," Tom muttered petulantly, "I know you've been busy." Annie regarded him with a look of disapproval on her face. "That was uncalled for, Tommy. Maybe you should have a run before dinner and clear your mind and your attitude." She left before Tom could say more, and he felt a pang of remorse. She was right; there was no need for him to be sarcastic, and a run would clear his mind since he had not been able to have one that morning. He changed into his running clothes and immediately began to feel better and more in control. By the time he had reached the one-mile mark on his run, he felt a little like his old self again. At two miles, the late afternoon sun on his face, he felt a bit more at peace with the world, and the rest of his run cleared his mind and lifted away the last remnants of the headache he had suffered from all day. He ran extra that evening, feeling as if he needed to make up for something, stopping in the park where he had spoken with his son the day before, and spending a few minutes on the bench, watching the children at play. He idly wondered what Annie and Charlie's child would be like, whether their combined genes would produce a child even more beautiful than both of them. The thought produced a moment of pleasure, rather then the anticipated angst. By the time he returned to the house, dinner was on the stove and Annie was in the kitchen. He paused for a moment, then stuttered out an apology for his comment in the bedroom. Annie smiled approvingly at him, patted his cheek, and told him to wash up before dinner. Tom spent a few minutes pondering the advisability of two showers before bed, then gave in and had a quick shower. He refrained from doing more than washing his cock, however, and forewent a post-shower piss as well. Charlie was not at the table during dinner, and husband and wife spent the half hour eating in a comfortable silence, as they usually did when Charlie was absent. Tom was able to resume reading his Churchill biography after dinner, and the slight return to routine pleased him so much that Charlie's return to the house after dinner neither alarmed nor upset him. As bedtime approached, Tom wondered at his lack of nervousness or dread in comparison with the nights before. This time, he knew what awaited him in the bedroom, knew that his son would join him and his wife in their bed, knew that his wife and son would make love a few feet from him, and even hoped that he would be able to enjoy the feelings their act would engender in him. When he went to the bedroom at his usual time, however, Annie was waiting for him. "Tommy, I want to talk to you," she said, and Tom's pleasant mood began to sink. Annie saw his expression, however, and raised a hand as if to stop him. "Don't get that look on your face, young man," she chided with a smile and a mock-stern expression, and Tom felt as if he had been reprimanded. "I'm not your enemy," she said, "and I want to help you." "Help me what?" Tom asked, truly mystified. "We both know what happened last night," she said, "and we both know why it happened." He felt a wave of shame and anger as she mentioned his recent humiliation. Then he heard a crinkle and looked down to see what she had in her hands. It was an adult-sized diaper. Tom's breath left him in a rush. "No, Annie," he managed. "I am not wearing a diaper." Annie looked at him steadily, not proffering the object or putting it away. He tried again: "No, Annie, I do not need a diaper." He heard a note of pleading enter his voice. "Annie. Please, you can't be serious." She finally spoke. "Tommy, I want you to try something for me tonight." She looked down at the object he found so offensive and turned it over in her hands. The sound of her hand sliding smoothly over the thin plastic of the outside of the diaper made a shushing sound, and the crinkle and crackle of the padding was alarmingly loud in the quiet of the room. "Tonight, I don't want you to cum in the shower," she said, and Tom looked at her face rather than the diaper she held as she continued. "And I don't want you to pee after your shower." Tom's pulse pounded in his throat. What was it she was wanting? What was she saying? He knew there was more to this than her request, but he was afraid to ask what it was she wanted. She looked into his eyes, her golden brown gaze soft and understanding. "Tommy, will you do this for me?" Tom found his voice. "What is it you are trying to do to me, Annie?" He asked, hating the lost sound of his own voice. Annie stepped closer to him, and held out the diaper to him. Tom looked at it, afraid to touch it, afraid to do what she asked. She picked up his hand and placed the diaper in it, and then turned and left the room. Tom held the diaper in his hands, smoothing the plastic coating as Annie had, listening to the shushing noise echo in the empty bedroom, then clenched it in his fist, hearing the padding crinkle and crackle. He realized that Annie's request and the way his imagination raced were already hardening his cock, and he knew that tonight would again be far from routine but instead of the dread that usually caused in him, he felt the beginnings of anticipation. When he stepped out of the shower a few minutes later, he dried off and eyed the toilet assessingly. Would he accede to his wife's request? Or would he follow his own routine? His entry into the bedroom a few minutes later, clad in the diaper snugly fitted around his hips didn't feel like defeat to him; instead, he felt strangely happy to have given his wife what she wanted. Annie was already in bed, sitting up with the covers pooled around her waist, her full, heavy breasts looking beautiful in the light from her lamp. Tom went to his dresser to get his pajamas, but she stopped him with a spoken "No, Tommy, no pajamas tonight," and his heart raced as he went to his side of the bed, pulled the covers back, and slid in, hearing the-now satisfying crinkle of the diaper against the sheet. He felt awkward and excited, and he didn't know what to do with his body as he lay in bed facing Annie, waiting and wondering. Charlie's entry into the bedroom naked, his semi-hard cock jutting out from his body, was no longer unfamiliar, and Tom watched Annie slide further across the huge bed to give Charlie room. In the circle of light from Annie's lamp, Tom marveled at his wife and son's similar beauty, their golden skin so alike, their dark hair and golden brown eyes exactly the same matching shades. As Charlie slid his arms around his mother and their lips met, Tom watched, for the first time not feeling like an outsider, but wondering instead what his place tonight would be. Charlie kissed his mother hungrily, and Annie returned the kiss with passion, her hand sliding over Charlie's muscled and broad chest. Finally, Charlie lay his mother on her back, arranging her body with casual familiarity, showing an ease and comfort with his mother's body that Tom had never had with his wife's; Tom watched as Charlie kissed his way down his mother's neck to her breasts. Tom felt breathless as he watched his son suckle his mother's breasts, first one then the other, and Tom knew real envy. Charlie finally lay back, tucked in close to his mother's left side, and Annie turned slightly toward Tom, then lifted her right arm. Tom recognized the gesture for the invitation it was and scooted quickly across the bed to her side. Annie lay back against the pillows, and both men looked at her, her golden skin creamy against the white sheets, her full, heavy breasts with their dusty pink-brown nipples large and puffy, and then she pulled both men towards her. Each latched on to a breast, and began to suckle. Giving Mom What She Wants Pt. 03 Tom lost track of time then, immersed in the physical sensations he was experiencing. One hand cradling his cheek and the other cupping her breast, Tommy drew her nipple into his mouth and nursed. He slipped into a twilight place, feeling comforted and aroused at the same time, his cock hardening inside his diaper. He could hear Charlie murmuring to Annie, but he was uninterested in what was being said. All that mattered for him at that moment was his mouth and her breast, and he could barely breathe from the excitement. His world had righted itself, and in those minutes his world was Annie's breast. He felt her body move as she spread her legs and knew that Charlie was mounting his mother, but Tom felt none of the unease or anxiety their coupling had caused him before. Annie's arm continued to encircle him and her hand brush through his hair as he suckled her breast. He could feel her body undulate as Charlie fucked her, and could see through the gray haze enveloping him as Charlie and Annie kissed passionately. Some time later, he felt and heard as Annie's orgasm approached, and he suckled harder, wanting to give her pleasure as he felt his own orgasm approaching. He began to move his hips slightly, humping her hip and bent leg, rubbing his diapered cock against her, squeezing her legs slightly as his orgasm approached. He heard Charlie talking to his mother, telling her how good her pussy felt, telling her how beautiful she was, telling her how he would give her his seed, telling her he would give her the baby she wanted, and somehow Tom felt closer to his son, as if their shared gifts to Annie created a bond they had not felt before. As Annie cried out in her ecstasy, Tom felt his cock jerk and throb in his diaper as he suckled Annie's breast and Charlie thrust hard as he came inside his mother, giving her what she wanted. And Tom felt himself lose control of his bladder in his diaper, the warm piss filling the space around his cock, the release and relief almost overwhelming, as he felt Annie's arm encircle him tightly. Giving Mom What She Wants Pt. 04 This is the first part of Charlie's side of the story... The day my father made my mother cry by refusing to give her another baby, I could've killed him. But now I realize he did me the biggest favor ever. I'm the one giving Mom what she wants. Of course I didn't see it that day, and neither did Mom. We sat in the kitchen for an hour after he left, her crying and me holding her closely, a situation that made me hard as a rock in my running shorts. I just kept praying she wouldn't notice, because I didn't really know how she would take the news that her son had a hardon for his mother. She told me for the first time what I already knew: she had wanted another baby for years. She also let me know that she and dad had barely had any sex life over the last 10 years. I couldn't help but be happy about that. Especially since I had been in love with her for years. I can remember the day I knew I was in love with her. I was 18, and like all teenage boys, I was a walking hormone. Everything made me hard. My friends weren't any different, but we all talked about hot girls and looked at every female in that way that only adolescent boys can. We'd even look at each other's moms, and we were crude enough to talk about them in front of that mom's son. My mom was only 18 when I was born, so she was absolutely the hottest mom on the block. All boys tease each other about their moms but none of my friends were teasing when they said my mom was hot. She was and still is. Her family is Italian, and Mom has the same kind of look that Sophia Loren had when she was young. She's a little taller than most women, and she stands tall and strong. Her breasts are large and her ass is not fat but it's full. She says she works out because she has to keep from being just like the fat Italian women in her family. I can't imagine she could ever be fat, but like my grandma, she just gets more beautiful as she gets older. I knew with the certainty a teenage boy has that she was hot, but that's not what made me love her. That year, I'd decided I was going to learn to play the guitar. She had taken me with her to a concert at the local university, some guitarist that played Spanish music by himself up on the stage, and while I was a little bit bored, I noticed that most of the audience was women who were all staring at the guy on the stage. Right then and there, I decided I would learn to play the guitar. Mom didn't laugh at me, she just took me to the music store and bought what I know now was a crappy little guitar. I didn't tell her why I wanted to learn to play guitar, but looking back now, I'm pretty sure she knew. She bought me some sheet music that day too, and it was all love songs the girls would like. As I was looking through the book trying to find something cool to learn, I found a song by a guy named John Denver called "Annie's Song." It didn't have any words with it but I thought it'd be neat to learn it for my mom. So I tried to find it on the Internet, so I could hear what it sounded like. When I read the lyrics, they blew me away. It was like it had been written about my mom. I found a download and listened to the song, and, as I sat there listening to that guy singing about his Annie filling up his senses, I realized that was how I felt about my mom. When he said "Come let me love you/Let me give my life to you," I actually sat there and cried. I looked at my mom in a different way after that, how loving and generous and thoughtful she was, how sensuous and sexy she was, and how she seemed to light up every room she walked into. And my dad? He's a totally different story, and he doesn't appreciate her at all. After I realized that I loved her, I started making sure that I was there for her when my dad wouldn't be, giving her affection, making her smile. I spent most of my teenage years pining after her, dating girls my age and comparing them to her, and jacking off in my bedroom thinking about my mom. And while we were always physically affectionate with each other, sitting next to each other on the couch to watch movies, and hugging a lot, I have never held her next to my almost-naked body, never really felt her face on my skin, until the day my dad made her cry. In that hour, with her face against my bare shoulder and my arms around her, I knew that I could make her happy, that I could be the one to give her what she wanted. I just had to figure out a way to make it happen. She finally stopped crying and looked embarrassed, so I made some joke about how bad I must smell after my run and went off to take a shower. I stood in the shower, my dick in my hand, stroking it and considering how I could talk to her, how I could convince her to let me be the one to give her that baby. The thought of being with her in that way—of actually having sex with my mom—made me so hard I could barely resist touching myself. So it didn't. I stood there in the shower, stroking my cock thinking about her, thinking about us together, until I came so hard in my hand that I had to lean against the wall after. I was standing there like that when I heard her voice at the door, telling me that she'd decided to call in sick, and was going to lie down. I finished showering, my mind completely full of thoughts of my mom. I needed a plan, and I needed to figure out how to make her see me in a different way. I started to skip my next class, but decided I could use the time to think. So I drove up to school and sat through an hour of macroeconomics without ever hearing a word the professor said. I blew off my friends after class and rushed home, hoping my mom would still be lying down. Her bedroom door was slightly open, and she'd pulled the shades on the windows so the room was mostly dark, but I could see her lying there in bed, facing away from the door. After changing into shorts and a T-shirt, I went back to her room and slid into bed behind her. As soon as I laid on the bed I could tell she wasn't asleep. "You okay, Mom?" I asked her quietly. "I am, Charlie," she said with a sigh, but I could tell from her voice she wasn't. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in tight. She took a deep breath. "I just need to get used to reality," she said, "and get over this fantasy I have of being a mother again." I took a deep breath... this was the first moment in my plan, and I knew I had to say this very carefully so she wouldn't react negatively right away. "You don't have to," I said, as calmly as I could, even though my heart was pounding like I was having a heart attack. Mom laughed, a sad laugh that let me know she was close to tears again. "Yes I do," she said, "my husband has flatly refused, and the thought of going to a fertility clinic for another man's sperm is just not something I could do. Even if your father was serious." I knew this was my moment. "I can help you," I said and tried as hard as I could to sound casual and helpful. "Charlie, you're so sweet," Mom said, with a little laugh. "But I am not taking you with me to a fertility clinic." "That's not what I meant," I said and held her just a little tighter. "I could give you the sperm." Mom went absolutely still, and I hoped this would not be the moment I would lose her. "What are you talking about?" She started to turn towards me in my arms, and I held her just a little bit tighter so she couldn't pull away. "Charlie, what are you saying?" I took another deep breath. "I could be the father of the baby, Mom." I held still, holding her in the circle of my arms, waiting for her reaction. For a full minute, Mom didn't say anything. "Charlie, don't be ridiculous," she said with another laugh, and I knew this one was kind of forced. "You can't be the father of my baby. You're my son. That would be incest." I wanted so badly to convince her, but I know my mom: you tell her something, and she starts thinking about it. If you argue with her, she'll take a position, and you'll never win. But if you just let her think about it, sometimes she'll come around to your way of thinking. So I just lay there without saying anything, holding her in my arms, my body next to hers, willing my cock not to get any harder than it already was. Finally I spoke. "Just think about it, Mom. You don't have to tell me anything today." Then I kissed the top of her head and slid out of bed, my heart pounding and my cock throbbing. For the next couple of hours, I sat at the desk in my room and tried to do homework, listening to the silence of the house and then hearing her moving around. Just after noon, I went in and asked her if she wanted to get our favorite subs for lunch. She seemed a little shy, maybe a little embarrassed, but she tried to act natural. I grabbed my keys, and we climbed into my truck, driving to Manny's for Italian sub sandwiches, chips, and drinks. And then I played the next card in my game: I drove us to our favorite place, a park not too far from our house where I used to play as a kid. I knew there would be kids there. Yeah, I gave a moment's thought to how cruel it would be to put children in front of her today, but I had to keep the pressure up. I didn't want her to make up her mind without really thinking about what I could do for her. We ate our sandwiches at a picnic table, and, sure enough, there were little kids playing on the swings, running around yelling and screaming the way little kids do, squealing as they slid down the slides into the arms of their waiting mothers, and just generally being little squirts. Mom watched it all as she ate, and I could tell she was on the verge of tears. She ate only a few bites of a sandwich before putting it on my paper the way she always does for me to finish. I'm a big guy, and I work out hard, and she knows I'm always hungry. Today, though, all I cared about was watching her. We sat there in the sunshine for a couple of hours, not really talking much, her watching the kids and me watching her. At one point I saw her wipe away a tear and breathe in deep, and I wanted to take her in my arms. But I knew that might be too much. So I just rubbed her back for a minute to let her know I was there. It sounds really mean of me now, but I had to press my advantage as much as I could. It's one of the things I got from my dad, that I can plan a strategy and have the patience to see it through. She finally turned to me, and I knew what was coming. "Charlie, you know I appreciate what you said this morning so much." Her beautiful brown eyes looked into mine, and I swallowed hard. "But you know what you said could never happen, right?" I began my argument. "It could, Mom... it could happen." She shook her head. "Charlie, that would be incest, and I think it's illegal as well wrong." I leaned forward. "How could it be wrong for me to help you have a child? You're the best mom there ever was, and you need a baby. You know you do." Mom looked down at her hands, then tried again. "Charlie, babies who share too close genetic characteristics are sometimes born with birth defects. I don't know much about it, but I think that's the reason it's illegal." I was ready for her on this, since while I'd been doing my "homework" that day, I'd been looking on the Internet about these things. "That's really an old wives' tale, Mom," I said with a head shake. "I checked, and the birth defect rate for children in this situation is about the same as that for children born to women over 40. And you're not even 40." Mom just looked at me. "You checked? Charlie, you looked this up?" I felt my face heat up, but I didn't look away. "Yeah, Mom. I checked. I didn't want to do something that would hurt you more than you've already been hurt by Dad." Mom looked away, blinking away tears, but I couldn't let up. I had to press my advantage. This was too important. "Mom, I want you to be happy." She looked at me for minute or two, and I looked back into her beautiful eyes, scared inside that she would say no. I decided to back off. "Just think about it, Mom," I said, and then turned to wrap up what was left of our sandwiches, my hands shaking. "Come on, Mom, let's go feed the ducks." I held out my hand to her, and she took it. We walked over to the duck pond hand in hand, my heart pounding. Like we always do, she and I threw our leftover bread crusts to the ducks. It was all really normal, except it wasn't, because Mom was thinking about me giving her a baby, and there wasn't anything normal about that. I had one more piece in my plan, and I decided to use it. "Mom, why don't you go spend the night with Aunt Donna?" Mom looked at me in surprise. "I know you don't want to see Dad tonight," I said, not looking at her while I threw my last crusts to the ducks squawking at our feet. "Aunt Donna will take you out for a margarita, and she'll make you feel better"—I laughed—"or at least you'll have enough of a buzz to forget." Mom laughed, and I knew things were going to be okay. Sending her to Aunt Donna was a calculated risk. My aunt had never married or had children, but I knew for a fact that she wished she had. My Aunt Donna is also the only person who knows how I feel about my mom. When I was about 17, she took me aside at a family dinner and let me know that my face when I looked at Mom showed everything I felt. She was very kind about it, but told me that someone would notice at some point. She didn't want me or my mom embarrassed, and she thought she needed to say something. Since then, she's been sort of my secret keeper about that, and she is very encouraging when it's been hard at family stuff. I had a strong suspicion that if my mom told her what I had offered, Aunt Donna might just encourage my mom to give in. That night, I made sure and stayed away from the house. The last thing I wanted to do was lose my temper with Dad. I couldn't imagine anything that would make Mom move to protect him and refuse to be with me more than me having a fight with him. But I was still angry with him that night—still feeling like he'd hurt Mom. So I went out with some buddies and drank a little, feeling hopeful and a bit nervous. I texted Mom a few times during the night, just checking on her. She and Aunt Donna went out for margaritas like I knew they would, and then they stayed up most of the night talking. She wouldn't tell me what they talked about, but I knew—I just knew—she'd confided in Aunt Donna about my offer. I jerked off twice thinking about being with her before falling asleep thinking about my plan. The next morning, when I passed Dad in the kitchen after my run, he and I exchanged some looks, but we really didn't engage. Mom went straight to work from Aunt Donna's, so I finally got some homework done between classes. That day was one of my short days, so I was home mid-afternoon when Mom came in. I tried really hard to pretend nothing was unusual, but just seeing her in her work clothes—some snug skirt and sweater and high heels—made me get hard instantly. I've always thought she was beautiful and sexy, but now I saw her even more as my potential lover, and everything she did and said just made me see her naked and ready for me. She came in and started dinner, and I could hear her moving around the house. I waited to see if she'd come to me, and she finally did. She came in and sat on my bed, facing me, her hands in her lap, the knuckles on her fingers white because she was gripping them so hard. I turned to face her in my desk chair, and we sat like that for a minute. I was afraid to say anything, and I don't think she could speak. Finally she cleared her throat. "Charlie, I've given so much thought to what you've offered. I still don't know what to say." She swallowed so hard I could see the muscles in her throat move. "I want a baby so bad, Charlie." Her eyes started shining with tears, and I started to move towards her, but she held up a hand. "No, no, please don't touch me. This is so hard." I held my breath, knowing she was going to refuse me, wishing she'd let me hold her and touch her. What she said next knocked the breath out of me. "Charlie, I will accept your offer, but there are going to be some conditions." I stared at her, my mouth hanging open, thinking I'd heard her wrong. I was so ready for her to say no, had all my arguments ready to give her, that her words just stunned me. Mom laughed. "You look shocked. Are you regretting your offer?" "God no," I blurted out. "No way, Mom." This time I did get up to go to her, and she let me hug her, but then pushed me down to sit beside her on the bed. "Charlie, there have to be some limits here." "Anything you say, Mom," I started, then stopped. Limits? What limits? "I'm not cumming in a cup, Mom," I added. She laughed, but didn't sound like she was amused. "I know, Charlie. I thought about artificial insemination, but your Aunt Donna seemed to think that was a horrible idea." I sent up a silent prayer of thanks for Aunt Donna, then said, "Okay, Mom, if not that, then what limits are you talking about?" She took a deep breath. "We stay dressed during. No kissing. No excess touching." I stared at her. I felt like I'd had my biggest dream handed to me, then ripped away. "What are you talking about? What does "no excess touching" mean? And no kissing?" I looked at her luscious, full lips. I wouldn't get to kiss her? Mom crossed her arms over her chest, pushing those gorgeous tits up, and I wondered for a second if she knew that happened when she crossed her arms. Somehow, I doubted it. "Excess touching is touching above the waist. And we can't kiss. It wouldn't be right." I sat back and crossed my own arms, knowing I could mimic that same expression I saw on her face. "So I can have sex with you, but not kiss you?" I saw her wince, and felt bad. The last thing I needed to do was push her away. "I'm sorry, Mom," I started, but she interrupted me. "No, you're right." She pushed her hair back with her hands, her usual nervous gesture when she was thinking. "It seems really silly—like I'm splitting hairs—but I just know we have to have some limits on what we're doing. It's just to get me—" she stopped. "It's just to get me pregnant." Her eyes teared up again, and I reached for her. "No, wait," she said and moved back a little. "There's one more." The look on her face told me I wouldn't like this, and I was right. "Your father has to be there." My heart stopped beating. I know it did. I could feel it in my throat cutting off my air supply. "What?" I choked out. "Charlie, I can't cheat on your father." The tears were streaming down her face at this point, and I considered letting mine go. I could see my dream slipping away. How could we possibly do this in front of him? "Don't you see, Charlie, I feel bad enough about this. And I can't let this be...more than that." She looked into my eyes, and I could see how badly she wanted me to understand, but I just couldn't. "Charlie, please..." I sat back and looked at her, my mind going crazy with all the possible arguments I wanted to raise. Then it all cleared up, and I knew. No way my Mom would have done this, agreed to have sex with her son—no matter how much she wanted to have a baby—unless she had some feelings for me. And I knew what I needed to do. "I'll agree to your conditions except one," I said, slowly, watching Mom's face as I did. She looked hopeful, then confused. "Which one?" she asked warily. "The kissing," I said decisively. "Mom, I'm a guy. I've got to have something to get me hard," I said a little crudely. I know my mom; she's no prude, but she's not that experienced. I thought maybe she wouldn't know that I had a hard cock about 23 hours out of every 24, including time sleeping. She seemed to think that over. My dad hates kissing. I think he believes mouths are unclean or something, I don't know. But if Mom goes to kiss him, he always turns his head and her lips touch his cheek. I've seen him do it for years. And I've seen the look of pain on Mom's face when he does that. Giving Mom What She Wants Pt. 04 "All right, but everything else applies." She seemed to think she'd won here, but my heart was pounding again in my chest. It was going to be okay. I knew it now. She started to get up, as if the discussion was ended and the debate was over, but I wasn't through. I stood up with her and then hugged her. My mom has great hugs and loves touching, and she hugged me back, hard. We laughed a little, and I could hear the relief in her voice. She patted my back and started to pull away, but I didn't let go. Instead, I leaned down and kissed her quickly on the lips. It wasn't anything I hadn't done before, but this time when she started to move back, I tightened my hug and leaned in again. I kissed her lightly, brushing my lips back and forth over hers, my heart pounding in my chest, feeling lightheaded. She didn't pull away, but she didn't kiss me back, so I kept kissing her, no tongue, just our lips touching, rubbing, brushing. My eyes were closed, and I opened them. Mom was watching me, her eyes wide and her pupils dilated, and I could see she was holding her breath. Her arms were still around me, her hands on my biceps, and she was so close to me. I pulled her in a little closer, where my hips and my hard cock pressed into her stomach, and I heard her breathe in really quick. I watched her eyelids flutter closed, and her cheeks redden just a little, and I almost came in my jeans. My mom was getting aroused. By me. I wanted to push her onto the bed and bury myself in her right then, but I knew if I did, it would be the last time I ever touched her, so I just kept kissing her, feeling my pulse hammer away in my throat, feeling my jeans get tighter and tighter. Finally, I just let the tip of my tongue touch her lips, just a little, and I heard this little breathy moan come out. She must have heard it too, because she pulled back hard and looked at me. For a few seconds, our faces inches apart, we just stared at each other, breathing hard, and then she pulled out of my arms and rushed out of the room. I wanted so badly to run after her, to kiss her again, to convince her that we needed to be together, to be everything to each other, but I knew that would be the wrong thing. I shut my door with a sigh, unbuttoned my jeans, and jacked off slowly, sitting on the edge of my bed, thinking of her and cumming hard into my hand. I thought dinner would be hard, but it wasn't. My dad was clearly relieved for everything to be back to normal—at least in his mind—and my mom was mostly her old self. But I could tell that she was nervous and a little excited still, and her cheeks were a bit red. She was kinda quiet during dinner, but I helped her wash the dishes afterwards, and we talked about a movie we'd downloaded and wanted to watch. All I could think about was sitting next to her on the couch like we always did, when we'd cuddle and I could put my arm around her and hold her close. My dad was in the media room reading when we came in, and we sat down like normal, although my mom seemed a little quiet and uncomfortable. We started the movie—a comedy we'd both been looking forward to—but all I could think about was how warm she was, how great she smelled, how much I wanted to touch her. After a few minutes, she moved in a little closer to me, and I put my arm around her, my heart pounding. I could barely breathe I was so turned on, and I couldn't believe I felt that way with my dad sitting right there across the room. Then I thought about how hot it was—that we were going to have sex, maybe in a few hours—and my dad would have to watch us, have to hear us. Instead of it being a buzzkill, the thought made my cock throb harder. I knew the way to my mom was going to be touch. She loved to touch and be touched so much, and my dad was just not good at that. So I started to rub her shoulder lightly, just barely moving my hand at all, She gave a little sigh, and I cuddled her in tighter, wishing we were already in bed. I couldn't even follow the movie, but I pretended to watch it as I held my mom in my arms. At exactly 1030—just like always—my dad got up and left the room. He didn't say a word—just like always—but the atmosphere in the room got heavier the moment he left. I could feel Mom tensing up just a little, and I wondered what she thought I would do. And I was thinking the same thing: What should I do next? If she was a girl I was dating, now would be the moment I'd move in. I was thinking about it—do I pull her close, start kissing her, or just keep rubbing her shoulder?—when she turned in my arm and faced me, getting up on her knees next to me. I was a little surprised that she moved and started to ask her what was wrong, when she leaned in and kissed me. Not only was I blown away, I almost came in my jeans. I actually felt my cock tighten and jerk, then I stopped worrying about that and started feeling Mom's lips moving on mine. She was in charge of this kiss, and I was just fine with that. She leaned in and took my face in her hands and kissed me a little deeper. It was like she was exploring, or just trying this new thing out: kissing. I kept warning myself in my head not to push, not to take more than she was offering, but it was fucking hard. And so was my cock. I could tell she was a little off balance, and I put my hands on her hips—you know, just to steady her (or that's what I told myself)—and I could feel the soft skin of her belly where the end of her shirt and the top of her jeans left a gap. I rubbed just a little with my thumbs on that warm, soft skin, and I felt and heard her give a little gasp on my lips. I kept my eyes open, watching her, but hers were closed, and I knew she was concentrating on the feeling of our lips touching. Then her mouth opened, just a little, and I felt her tongue do what mine had done earlier that day. This time it was me that made a little moan. It felt so goddamn good! There seemed to be a direct path from her mouth on mine right to my cock. I tightened my hands on her hips and pulled her in closer to me as she continued to lightly lick my lips, and I opened my mouth a little, just in case she wanted to taste in there too. And she did. I felt her tongue slip inside my lips and then further, and I opened up to her, letting her go wherever she wanted. I'm pretty sure I'd kissed a lot more than she had—even in my young life—and I wanted to let her have as much fun as she wanted. Her hands slid up my face to my hair, and then I felt her nails lightly scrape my scalp, and I swear to god, every hair on my body stood up on end. I couldn't help it: I opened my mouth and ground it into hers, my hands sliding around to cup her sweet ass and pull her into me. And she came forward, leaning against me, tilting her head and opening her mouth to me, letting me kiss her and lick her and suck that exploring tongue into my mouth. I don't know how long we kissed that way, my hands kneading her ass and hers pulling my head to her, before we stopped, both of us panting. I opened my eyes and looked at her face, all flushed and beautiful. She looked back at me, and I could see she wanted me too. "Well, I don't think we have to worry about you being excited enough for sex, do we, babyboy?" She asked me with a sexy sly smile, and the husky note in her voice had me throbbing even harder. "When, Mom?" was all I could manage to say. "Tonight." -- A half hour later I was pacing my bedroom in my underwear, trying to think about anything that would keep me from cumming in my shorts. Mom just wanted me to cum and get her pregnant, but I wanted to give her an experience that would make her want more. I couldn't cum too soon, or that wouldn't happen. Mom had said to give her thirty minutes, and it had been just that. I went to Mom and Dad's room, took a deep breath, and opened the door Dad was lying on his side of the bed with a book, but Mom—my beautiful, sexy mother—was closest to the door, her beautiful breasts peeking out of the covers. She had on some kind of black silky nightgown, and she looked amazing. My dad looked a little surprised, but he didn't say anything. I knelt down beside the bed and knew I needed to say something, but I didn't know what. "Mom..." I stopped, wishing I knew what would make her feel more comfortable with what we were about to do. "I love you." She smiled at me. "But more than that, Mom, I want to give you what you want." Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened a little. And that was all I needed. I stood, and she slid over a little so I could get into bed. My feet slid down her leg and she giggled. "Oh god, Mom, I'm sorry. My feet are always cold." We laughed a little, and the tension seemed to go down a little. "Mine are warm," she said, and her voice sent a little shiver up my spine. She slid her foot up my leg, and I had to keep from attacking her. I looked over to see Dad looking at his book as if he couldn't see or hear us. I wondered what she'd told him. Then she smiled at me, sexy and gorgeous, and I forgot all about him as I leaned in, sliding my arm around her, and I kissed her. Just like we'd kissed before—slow and sexy and warm—and her arms came up to touch me, her hands sliding over my bare skin and I shivered, and then my tongue was in her mouth, and she was sucking on it, and my cock was as hard as a rock, and all I wanted was to bury myself inside her. I slid my arm around her, and just like that, my hand found her breast. It was full and hot in my hand, and I knew that breast—and my mother—were mine. Everything blurred then, and we continued to kiss, and I continued to touch her, my hands going everywhere I'd dreamed about for all those years: flicking her nipples, sliding over her stomach, cupping those full hips. Then I realized she wasn't wearing panties under her gown. She had prepared for me, had made sure I could get to her pussy, and I knew I had to be inside her. Still kissing her, I moved to where I was partly lying on her, and I started to slide her gown up slowly. Her skin was so warm, and she smelled so good. I kissed her down the side of her neck, feeling the pulse banging away in her throat, then went where I wanted to go. I moved aside the strap of her gown, and slid my mouth over her breast, taking her hard, pebbly nipple into my mouth, suckling and licking and nibbling. I was in heaven. I went back and forth between her two breasts over and over, as Mom threw back her head, her hand on the back of my head, pressing me to her. It was there, suckling at the breast I'd suckled from as a baby, that it hit me: if we were able to get her pregnant, my mom would be nursing a baby at this breast. I felt a surge of energy to my cock just thinking about it, and I couldn't wait any longer. I slid back up to her mouth and kissed her one more time. Then I held myself above her and looked down at her. watching her face while I did. She looked up at me, so beautiful, and nodded. I reached down and slid her silky gown up, pooling it around her hips. As it came up, I could see her beautiful thighs, then her hips, and then I saw her pussy—oh god—my mom was shaved. Before I could come in my briefs, I pulled my cock out. It was so hard, hot and throbbing, and I didn't know how long I would last. I guess my mom wouldn't care if I came too quick—as long as I came inside her—but I would. I wanted her satisfied. I wished she'd have let me go down on her first, but with her damned conditions, I was lucky to have kissed her, and we both knew I'd snuck in the touching and suckling. I made myself a little happy by sliding a finger down over her clit to her pussy, feeling the hot wetness there. I heard her breathe in as I played with her body, a long slow deep inhale. I wanted to see her naked so badly, and I slid up her body and kissed her again, and asked: "May I please take off the gown?" But she just bit her lip and shook her head, and I didn't press my luck. I looked over at my dad for a second and he was staring at my mom, his mouth hanging open. Fuck him. I moved completely between her legs, my cock hanging hard and thick between us. Mom spread her legs a bit more, and I took my cock in my hand and—god help me—slid it inside my mother. She was so tight. So motherfucking tight. She was wet—don't get me wrong—but her pussy was so tight it gripped my cock and didn't seem to want to let go. I pressed inside her, feeling the head of my cock go deeper inside, then pulled my hips back and slid out, then back in again. I could feel the pressure building up inside my balls and cock and I knew I wouldn't last long. I tried thinking of anything else I could to keep from cumming and ending this experience too soon, but it was pointless. I was fucking my mom, trying to breed her, and there was nothing about this that wasn't exciting to me. I felt my mom's hands on my shoulders, then my back, and then my ass, as I picked up the pace and began really fucking her. I looked down in her beautiful face. Her eyes were closed and her head was thrown back and she was breathing hard. I leaned down and kissed her and she opened her eyes and smiled at me. Then she spread her legs open further and tucked her feet behind my knees, and the next thing I knew, I was slamming my cock inside her, thinking the whole time, I'mfuckingmymomI'mfuckingmymomI'mfuckingmymom, and as I felt her start to shiver and grip me tighter, I knew I'd never seen anything as beautiful as my mom lying beneath me, open to me, taking my cock inside her. "Oh Mom...you're so beautiful..." I told her, and it was true. And she came all over my cock, breathing out her special name for me: babyboy. I had to cum. I had to fill her. Had to breed her and claim her as mine. "Mom, I'm so close," I told her. She answered me, her eyes closed, "Yes, baby yes...give me what I need," and that was it. I thrust a couple more times and then I felt my cock begin to jerk and pulse inside my mother's pussy. The next day passed in a blur. I don't think my cock was soft from the moment I woke up until I fell asleep. My run in the morning was incredibly uncomfortable. My thoughts were full of my mom, my senses still on high alert from the night before. I'd left her in that bed with my father even though I hadn't wanted to, but I kissed her as gently as I could and even slid a pillow under her hips like I'd read about earlier in the day. The whole time I ran I could see her in my mind as she lay under me, my cock inside her, both of us cumming. I could even still smell her scent. When I came into the kitchen, my dad was at the table and my mom was standing at the sink, looking out the window. Everything seemed normal, but not one of us in that room felt like we had a few days before. I stripped off my shirt and drank down my big glass of water, and I could feel both of my parents watching me. No one spoke. It was the weirdest moment I can ever remember, and because of my dad, my memory is full of awkward moments. It was standing there in the kitchen that morning that I made a decision. My mom and I were going to be lovers—were already lovers—and it wouldn't just be in their bed late at night. I went over to my mom, with my dad sitting a few feet away, and wrapped my arms around my mom. I felt her body go stiff for a second, and then she seemed to relax back into me, tucking her arms over mine. I could feel Dad watching, and I leaned down to whisper in her ear. I wanted to say something deep and profound, but the only thing in my head was the line from that song. So I told her. "You fill up my senses." I heard her draw a breath in, and I leaned down and kissed the side of her neck just under her ear. Both of us heard my dad leave at that point, and I waited, wondering what Mom would say or do, but she just sighed and leaned back against me. I hugged her tight, feeling her hair tickling my chest, feeling my hard cock against her lower back and gorgeous full ass. I pushed aside the collar of her robe with my cheek and kissed the curve of her shoulder, and she tilted her head away to give me access. I felt like I'd just won the lottery. She wanted my kiss, wanted my touch. I spent a minute brushing my lips at the place where her neck and shoulder met, then wanted—needed—more. I turned her in my arms and looked down at her. Her hair was pulled back and she wasn't wearing any makeup on her clean face, but she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. And she was looking up at me in a way I just can't describe, like she was waiting for me to say something or kiss her. So I did. I leaned down and put everything I felt in a kiss. And she opened up for me, her hands sliding up my bare chest, making me shiver. I couldn't help it, my hips pressed forward and my cock pushed and throbbed, wanting to be buried in her again. I pulled back to look at her again. "Mom?" I said, not knowing what I was asking. She tucked her head into my chest. "Just hold me, babyboy." She sounded tired or maybe sad. I held her tight and rested my chin on hers. We stood there for a few minutes, and I swear to god, my cock stayed rock hard. Just being near her was exciting. After a few minutes, she leaned back and smiled up at me, then kissed me briefly and started to pull away. I held her for a few seconds, then kissed her forehead. "Love you, Mom," I said. She smiled at me as she pulled away. "Love you too, babyboy," she said as she walked towards her room. Maybe not in the same way yet, I thought, but you will. That night, I stood next to the bed and looked down at my mom lying there in the bed with my dad and slowly, deliberately took off my underwear before climbing into bed. Mom looked surprised but she didn't stop me or say anything. And then I realized what was different: Mom was naked with the sheet covering her breasts. Another rule gone. Those full, heavy naked breasts. I couldn't wait to dive in. So I didn't. And she met me more than halfway, her hands all over my body from the moment I slid in. I guess the rule about no excess touching was out the window with the kissing. And the clothes. My head was swimming with what I felt for her and how excited she made me, but I wasn't so far gone that I didn't hear Dad clear his throat. He said my mom's name, as if he was going to get onto her about what we were doing, and I was instantly angry. How dare he? I lifted my head and looked at him, and I know he could see in my eyes exactly what I was feeling. "No way, Dad," I told him, barely stopping myself from reaching across the bed to throttle him. "You didn't want to be involved, remember?" I could see him think about responding to me, and then, watching him, I bent back to my mom's body. I was through with rules and conditions. This time I was going to taste her. I suckled her breasts, drawing moans from her from the first suck, nibbling and licking. But I wanted more, so I slid down to her shaven pussy. She started to protest, but I didn't listen, diving into that space between her thighs, inhaling her scent as I licked her slit top to bottom with my tongue. She tasted just like I thought she would, sweet and tangy and salty and soft, soft, soft. Her thighs were as soft as her breasts, and I kissed and rubbed my face on them, playing like those kids on the playground with my own toys. When I began to stroke her pussy with my tongue, she moaned and gripped my head with her thighs, and I could feel the wet spot under my cock from all the precum it was leaking. I was in heaven, my face wet with her juices, when I felt Mom reach down and tug me towards her. "Now, babyboy, now," she moaned, and I felt my cock throb heavily. She wanted me. She wanted me inside her. And I wanted to give her whatever she wanted. I slid up her body, and my cock slid into her as if we'd been fucking for years, as if it was going home. She moaned as I slid all the way inside her, and then I heard a noise from my dad's side of the bed. I looked towards him, and by god, I was ready to kill him if he said a word. But he didn't. He couldn't. I wanted to laugh. He was stroking his cock in his pajama pants, and he'd cum on himself. Mom stopped and looked towards him, and I leaned down and kissed her, and said, "It's nothing, Mom. Just Dad cumming in his pjs." Mom looked over at him, lazily, and then she lifted her arms and put them around me. Giving Mom What She Wants Pt. 04 I don't know how many times I made her cum that night. Over and over. It was like a dam had burst and she was able to be pleasured for the first time. And it was me making her feel good. Dad watched us, and I know he kept stroking his dick. But I didn't care. He was through. I didn't know what would happen tomorrow, but I knew that in this bed, I'd taken his place with my mom. And when I finally exploded inside her, draining my cock into her womb, I told her I loved her, loved her more than I could ever imagine. Giving Mom What She Wants Pt. 05 I woke up in my bed the next morning, and my cock was still hard. I stroked it slowly, thinking about my mom's golden skin the night before, how soft her whole body was, how I just wanted to bury myself in her over and over, how I wanted to taste her again. With those pictures in my mind, I couldn't help but cum. After, I drifted back to sleep, my sticky cock in my hand, my dreams full of my mom. I woke up again later, still sticky and drained, to a text from Aunt Donna: -What's happening? I wondered if Mom hadn't talked to her about me after all. So I decided to play it safe: -What do U mean? She came right back, and I could hear her hands on her hips and see that pissed off expression: -Don't toy with me, young man. Tell me what's going on. -Everything. There was a few second pause, and then: -What do you mean? -U know what I mean. Everything I've waited for. Another pause and then: -Don't hurt her. I was blown away. -Why would u think I'd hurt her? -She's fragile. Be careful. I thought about it all during my run. When I got back, nobody was home, but Dad had texted me that he wanted to work on retaining the deck. I knew what that meant. A long, hard, hot day of work outside. Before he got back, though, Mom did. She looked gorgeous, all fresh and spring in a sundress. She'd been shopping, and she looked so happy I couldn't help myself: I had to kiss her. I took her in my arms and kissed her hard and hungry. And she kissed me back. We were right in the middle when Dad walked in. Mom pulled back and looked guilty, but I just glared at him, pissed he was interrupting us. He looked confused for a minute, then mad, and then he said, "Charlie, let's get started before the day is completely gone." He stomped out to the deck and left the back door open. Fine. I could use a little bit of hammer time, and I was pissed off enough to work him into the ground. Which is exactly what happened. If he thought he could keep up with me, he was sadly mistaken. Between my anger at him and the surge I got every time I saw Mom, I was on fire. The old man was exhausted by the end of the day, but I was just hitting my stride. Besides, I had Mom in bed to look forward to. After a shower, we ate burgers Mom had picked up, and I sat closer to Mom than normal. We laughed and talked like usual, but Dad was really quiet and seemed tired and sad. After he left the table, Mom sat back in her chair and sighed. "He's taking this hard," she said, and I felt a surge of anger. "He's upset that his routine's disrupted," I said as I threw down my napkin on the table. Mom looked surprised. "You think?" "I do." I took a drink of my beer. "That, and he's used to getting your undivided attention. I think the real reason he didn't want you to have any more kids was because he'd have to share you." She looked down at her hands in her lap. "Yes, I think so, too." She got up and went to follow him, then turned back towards me. "Clean up the dishes young man." "For a kiss," I said, then got up and went to her. She leaned in as I went to kiss her, and just the feel of her lips on mine started up the fire again. She pulled away and shook her head at me. I finished the dishes and thought about what to do the rest of the night. I was supposed to meet my buddies and go out to see what trouble we could get into, but the last thing on my mind was drinking or meeting girls. The only thing I wanted was to be inside my mother's pussy, loving her and giving her what she needed. I begged off and settled down on my bed to watch television. She came to me there a bit later, and it felt so natural to lie next to her and hold her. But when I started to stroke her breast, she stopped me with a kiss. "Let's go to bed, Charlie." I deepened the kiss, then tucked her against my chest. "We are in bed." She bit my shoulder. "My bed," she said, and started to get up. "Come on," she said, and tugged me until I got up. Dad was asleep when we crawled into their bed, so I thought Mom might want to not move and wake him. Boy, was I wrong. Mom was in charge that night—all the way. It was her kissing me, her touching me, her deciding what to do next. And when she straddled me and slid her pussy down over my hard cock, it was me begging. But she was in control and deciding who was doing what. She rode me like she'd been doing it for years, grinding that wet, hot cunt down onto my cock and making me moan like a girl. I'm glad she didn't want to be quiet, because there was no way I could've been. I was egging her on, telling her to ride me, telling her to do whatever she wanted with me. She looked amazing up there, lost in her own pleasure, her tits swaying and shaking as she came over and over. I came too, but it didn't matter. She didn't stop fucking me. I stayed hard through it, and continued to watch her riding me. At some point, I realized Dad was awake and watching, and the thought just turned me on even more. I could see him stroking his cock, and I could tell he'd moved closer. Mom just ignored him, and I wondered if it turned her on that she was making him so excited. She finally seemed to be getting a little tired, but I was hotter than ever, and so I started pistoning my hips up, fucking her from underneath, and she just held on and let me. When I finally felt about to cum, I told her, and she looked in my eyes, and I saw it—what I'd waited for. She told me to cum, to fill her, and I did, my cum boiling up in my balls and exploding into her waiting cunt. She held me after that—we were both so exhausted we fell asleep—and for the first time since I was a child, I slept in their bed. At some point, I woke up hard as a rock, tucked into the crack of her ass. I was afraid to wake her though, afraid she'd refuse me, so I just lay there until I fell asleep again. I woke up before both of them and went off for my run, thoughts of my mom—of Annie—filling me, seeing her rising up over me the night before, concentrating on her own pleasure, and knowing it wouldn't be long before I'd have to tell her how I really felt. When I came in, she was in the kitchen, looking fresh and pretty in a sundress. I left my shoes in the garage and stripped off my shirt, and she handed me my water, watching as I drank it down. I loved her watching me. She didn't say a word, just came to me and kissed me, wrapping her arms around me. I pushed her up against the counter and ground my hips into her belly, my hard cock absolutely standing up on its own in my running shorts. I could feel the points of her nipples through the light cotton of the sundress, and I knew she was as excited as I was. I pulled down the straps of the sundress and suckled, her hands on the back of my head urging me to suck harder. When I couldn't take it anymore, I pulled back and looked at her. She didn't look away—just kept looking at me. So I turned her around to face the counter and bent her over. And god help me, she spread her legs. I dropped my shorts and pulled up her sundress, and almost came when I saw she was wearing a sexy little thong underneath. I pulled it to the side and pushed a finger, then two, inside her pussy. She was hot and dripping wet. As I stoked her pussy with my fingers, she moaned, so I pulled my dick up and plunged it in. Goddamn, she felt good. With just a few strokes, she was cumming on my cock, but I was full of energy and ready to fuck. I kept going through her orgasm, hearing her moaning "babyboy" over and over. It wasn't until I saw movement and looked up to see my dad at the door to the kitchen that I felt like I was going to cum. I didn't look away—it was time he realized who was Mom's lover now—and the thought that I had won her away from him made me swell in her cunt. Mom never noticed Dad, not even when he ran through the kitchen and out the garage door. I thrust into her a few more times as she came, and then I felt my cock start to jerk and throb, and I gave her my seed again, thrusting hard to push it as far inside her as I could go. I held her hips and ground against her, feeling her shake and hearing her sob my name as I gave her what she needed. We came down together, panting and out of breath, and when I pulled out, cum rushed out and down her legs. I took my fingers and scooped it up, pushing it back into her, feeling her pussy clenching on my hand. We showered together after that, and I took her against the shower wall, lifting her easily and holding her up while I pumped her womb full of more of my seed. It was when we were lying in bed afterwards that I told her Dad had walked into the kitchen and had seen us. She lay at my side, head on my chest, and her hand slowly stroking my belly, and sighed. "Well, I'm sure this is all a bit too much." "He needs to get used to it," I told her, and I felt her hand stop stroking. She pulled back and looked at me. "Get used to what?" I took a deep breath. "Get used to us being together." I jumped in with both feet. "It's not going to change." She looked back at me steadily. "It's not?" She wasn't saying yes, but she wasn't saying no, either. So I plunged on. "It's not." I leaned down and kissed her, putting everything I felt into the kiss, then drew back. "Is it?" We lay there, looking at each other for a full minute before she spoke. "No, babyboy, it's not." She put her head back on my chest, and I'm sure she could feel my heart pounding in my chest. "But we have to let him find his place in all this. I'll talk to him." I couldn't let her do that. He'd make her feel guilty for what we had, and that might be enough to make her stop. "No, Mom, I'll do it. I have a good idea where he'll end up today." I drove to the park, and sure enough, Dad was there, sitting on a bench, looking like he'd lost his best friend. I guess in a way he had. I was right but so was mom; the biggest problem with all this for Dad was his loss of routine. I think he loved Mom, although I didn't understand it, but what always threw him for a loop was change. And this was all about change. I sat next to him on the bench, and he looked at me like he was afraid I was going to hit him or something. I guess I had been challenging him a lot lately, but I wasn't about to let him ruin what Mom and I had. And I told him so. "Dad, I know you hate change. But things are changing—and they're going to keep changing." I looked at him, hard, and when he started to warn me off, I continued: "Mom needed me to give her what you wouldn't. She's always wanted more kids, and it wasn't fair of you to deny her what she needs." I looked at all the kids running around in the sunshine. "I'll give her this baby and more if she wants them. And you're going to make sure she's happy and taken care of." Dad seemed stunned. "Charlie, what do you think gives you the right to tell me how to take care of my wife?" I looked back at him. "I love her. I love Mom, and that gives me the right." One of the kids kicked a soccer ball, and it rolled over near us. I got up and kicked it back to him and then watched him kick it to his friends. "I can't wait for Mom to get pregnant. She'll be so beautiful and ripe and happy. And our child will be gorgeous, don't you think?" I looked over at him, willing him to see that baby as a person, as Mom's child, and I could see he hadn't even really thought about the baby yet. He got up and started to walk off. I wasn't finished. "It's happening, Dad. Get your head around it." He started running then, and I just watched him, then sat back down and watched the kids for a while, dreaming about how mine and Mom's child would look and how I would bring him or her—I hoped for Mom it was a little girl—to this park and play with her. Then I went home to Mom. - That night was the weirdest night of my life. We hadn't spent the day in bed; I had to get some homework done, and she was cooking things for the week like she always did. But in some ways it was a great day. Just being around her felt so normal. Every once in a while, we'd pass each other, and we'd touch. Just touch. And I stayed hard the entire day. We never had a sit down dinner on Sundays—just fended for ourselves. But Mom and I had a sandwich together and talked about nothing. It was great. Dad stayed gone till past dinnertime, then drank a protein shake and went off on his own. By late evening, I was hard and craving her. We watched some TV, but I couldn't keep my hands off her. We started sitting next to each other on the couch, but I kept pulling her closer and closer. Cuddling led to kissing, which led to touching. It was like neither of us could keep our hands off each other. Finally, she laughed and said she'd get ready for bed. I undressed and showered in record time, and presented myself ready for the best duty I could imagine: servicing my mom's needs. When I went in the bedroom, Dad was facing Mom—no pretense of reading anymore, I guess—and Mom was naked and smiling, waiting for me. I kissed her, claiming her beautiful mouth, before nuzzling and moving lower. She loved my mouth on her, I could just tell. And I loved it too. She was a bit ticklish, and even though I'd shaved, my rough skin rasped against her softness and brought a giggle from her. I wanted all of her, all over again. I couldn't imagine getting enough of her. Breathing in the scent of her, I didn't waste any time—I went right for her beautiful breasts, and began kissing and nibbling. Mom's laugh quieted into an approving moan once I began suckling. Her skin was so soft, the nipples so taut and hard, and they felt so perfect in my mouth. After just a few minutes, though, I knew I needed to be between her thighs. As much as I loved suckling at her breasts, I loved her pussy even more. I moved down there and began to feast on her soft wetness. I saw that she invited Dad to suckle her breast, but I didn't care as long as he understood that her beautiful pussy was all mine now. I paused and breathed in the beautiful scent of her before worshipping that shaved pussy, but Mom scraped her nails through my hair and pulled my face into her. She'd told me earlier that evening that Dad had only gone down on her a couple of times in all the years they'd been together, and once she'd realized that would not be a part of their love life, she'd not bothered to suggest it again. So in a way, this was something new just for us. I wanted to give her that pleasure. I slid my hands under her ass, something she seemed to love, and went to town. I dipped my tongue into her, fucking her with the tip, then sucking on her clit and pussy lips. Mom moaned and pulled me closer, and I thought she was just about to cum, when I felt the bed move. I looked up to see Dad moving closer to Mom, his eyes on me as if he was afraid to challenge me. I kinda wanted to laugh at that, but a look at Mom showed me that she was smiling at him and me, as if she approved, and so I decided to ignore him. I went back to her cunt and what I wanted. My cock was throbbing, aching really, my balls full and heavy, and she was close—so close—when I felt Dad jerk back away from her. I was pretty pissed off—what was he trying to do?—and looked up ready to tell him to back off. But he was looking down at himself, and Mom was too, and I wondered what all the commotion was about. He'd been cumming every night watching us. But he jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, and I realized that the wet spot in the bed was a bit too big for his cum. I started to laugh, but Mom cut me off as she slipped a robe on. "Don't start, Charlie," she said, "and don't be unkind. Help me strip the bed." "So Dad's a bedwetter, hm? Not a big surprise," I said. She frowned at me, and I realized I was doing exactly what I'd sworn not to do: make her feel she needed to protect him from me. I got busy stripping the sheets and mattress protector from the bed. "Your father has a particular fetish, babyboy, and seeing as how you have one too"—I looked up at this, and then realized she meant she was my fetish—"I think you can sympathize." I heard the shower start in the bathroom. "What's his fetish?" Mom sat down on the bare mattress. "Ever since I've known your father, he's had to pee right after cumming. Sometimes he masturbates in the shower, and can barely make it out of the shower to pee." She looked at her hands in her lap. "Even when we used to have sex, he would rush to the bathroom and go right afterwards." I bundled the sheets up by the door and went to her. "Did it bother you?" "Oh no," she said and sighed. "Well no more than anything else. You know your father has a lot of ... idiosyncrasies." I laughed, not really very amused. She and I had both lived with my dad's "idiosyncrasies" my entire life. He was OCD, distant, emotionally stunted...I could go on all night if I wanted to. But this was a new one. She sighed again, looking down at her hand as she stroked the quilting on the mattress. "This thing with us has him so ... rattled. I'm not surprised this happened. And it's going to humiliate him, even more than us becoming closer already has." I put my hand under her chin and lifted it up so she was looking at me. "Is that what we've done? Become closer?" She looked back at me, then stood up, sliding her arms around me. I looked down into that beautiful face, and I had to kiss her again. When I bent down, though, she turned her head and didn't let me kiss her. "I wish I knew what it was, Charlie," she said, shaking her head, and it didn't sound like it was a good thing. "Mom," I started, but she interrupted me and pushed me away. "Go put the sheets in the wash, Charlie," she said, and I went. When I came back, Dad was out of the bathroom, and Mom was talking to him gently. She was right: he looked miserable. "Sheets are in, Mom," I said, and went to her, putting my arm around her. My dad turned around to look out the window, and he looked to lost and miserable that I felt sorry for him. "It's okay, Dad," I told him and went to stand beside him. "Mom explained that you like to pee right after you cum." Dad turned around and looked at Mom, his jaw dropping. "You knew?" Mom laughed. "Of course, I knew, Tommy. "You'd run so fast after we had sex that it was like you were training for a marathon." She turned to the bed. "Now come on you two, and help me finish making the bed." I went and helped immediately, but I noticed Dad still hung back. When the bed was made, Mom took off her robe and slid in, and I followed, sliding in right behind her. I wanted to make sure that I was invited to stay, even if Dad's "accident" had killed the mood. Mom patted the bed, and Dad got in bed and turned out the light Mom had turned on. For a minute, we all laid there, not touching, but then Mom slid toward Dad and put her arms around him. She hugged him for a few seconds, and then he started sobbing. I even felt a little sorry for him. But then I saw Mom's face turn toward me in the dark, and I could tell that she wanted me to slide up behind her and spoon her. So I did, sliding across the bed and putting my arms around her, my cock fitting perfectly in the crack of her ass. We laid like that for a while, both of us listening to Dad cry, until he trailed off into sniffles like a little kid. And then the most wonderful thing happened. Mom shifted, moving her top leg forward slightly, spreading her legs. And I knew—I just knew—that what she wanted was my cock inside her. So I slid down just a little, until the tip of my cock rested just below her ass, and then I moved just a little more, and it slid in between us, sliding into her pussy like it belonged there, the head popping in and the length just following behind. It felt so good I almost came then, the heat of her making me throb. I didn't want to cum...I just wanted to feel it forever. So I didn't move. I just let my cock rest inside her pussy, and I stayed hard just thinking about where it was, that my dick was in my mother's cunt, that I could feel the heat of her along my shaft, that even as I laid there I could feel her wetness, that my arms were wrapped around my mother and my hands were full of her tits, my fingers brushing over her erect nipples. It wasn't long before I felt her push back against me a little, hunching and humping back, and she was fucking me, making me want to fuck her too. So we lay there together, her arms around my father, mine around her, while she hunched and moved on my cock, and when I heard her breathe in deep and felt her pussy clench down on my cock, I couldn't help myself: I gave one thrust and buried my dick deep in her womb and felt it jerk and throb as I gave her my seed. Giving Mom What She Wants Pt. 05 I felt like I came forever, and then I drifted off to sleep, my cock still in my mother's pussy. And I had the weirdest dream. I was a tree, and my mother was the earth, and my roots grew down, down into her, and her arms were around me pulling me down into her. And then I saw my father, and he was standing off to one side, and then I could see him pissing on the ground, and it was like he was watering the soil. And I remember thinking in my dream that the weird thing wasn't me being a tree or him watering the ground, but that all these little trees popped up around us. I woke up in the middle of the night still inside my mother, only half hard, her pussy wet and dripping with my cum and her juices, my hands still full of her tits, and it didn't take anything at all for me to get hard and start moving slowly, fucking her. I think she was asleep, but her body responded immediately, and by the time she woke up, I was balls deep in her, pulling her to me with my hands on her tits, our hips glued to each other. This time when I came, it was hard and explosive, and my body and hers shuddered together, sticking to each other with sweat, our breaths panting and hot, and I fell asleep inside her again. She woke me in the morning by stretching and moving, and this time I made love to her on my side of their bed, my thoughts filled with the dreams I'd had, and how much I loved her. She laid under me, our bodies intertwined, her arms around me as I stroked her drenched pussy with my cock, the slick wetness feeling so good. I kissed her as I loved her, and when I came, she whispered that she loved me too.