0 comments/ 94891 views/ 7 favorites One for the Price of Two By: Starlight He knew it was no use denying it. Even back then tests could prove paternity. His parents were horrified, not because he had made me pregnant, but that it should be the daughter of a lowly single mother living on welfare money. His parents were members of what in our city is called, "The Establishment." They are descendents of the early settlers who made good. Wealthy, living in the most elegant suburbs, they once ruled the political roost and occupied all the positions of power. If that is no longer so much the case as it once was, they still have the aura of prestige and are proud of their ancestry. Their sons do not marry "sluts" from the lower classes. They married only "young ladies" from their own class. He had seduced me with his talk of "loving me for ever." I was desperately unhappy and vulnerable, living with a mother who spent most of our meagre welfare money on poker machines and booze. I met him in a cinema where for a couple of hours I could escape the sordid surroundings of our home and the endless parade of "uncles" my mother introduced into our domestic "bliss." I was sixteen. He was nineteen, tall, good looking, and plausible. His talk of love overwhelmed me. Love was what I craved, and I eventually surrendered my virginity to him, painfully, in the back of his flashy car. Of course, There was "no danger of pregnancy" he said, he "knew what to do," except there was danger of pregnancy. Once confirmed, my pregnancy brought about a sudden withdrawal of eternal devotion by my "faithful" lover. He fled from my presence as if from some foul disease. There was no family capable of standing by me in my dire situation, but I am not a complete fool, and even at sixteen I was not afraid to stand up for myself. I went to his home and confronted his parents with the facts. Of course, they denied, argued and bullied, pressing me to have an abortion, which I emphatically refused to do, while my erstwhile lover hid behind "mummy and daddy." The one thing they did not want to happen, and I knew it, was the revelation that their beloved son had associated with, and got pregnant, "a girl of that class." I make no excuse, and attempt no justification for what I was after from them. I wanted their money. I had naively given myself in what I thought was love, and had been betrayed by a young man who could have, like the rest of his type, bought himself a whore with no consequences to follow. I was not and am not, a whore, and his treatment of me as if I were one could have crushed me, or made me stand up and fight. I chose to fight and they were going to pay. There are lawyers in our city that are not overawed by The Establishment. They happily go in to bat for a "poor seduced young girl", and do it for no fee unless they win the case. I got myself one of these lawyers. My late lover's Establishment parents were well aware of how things might turn out. Rather than have their son's name dragged before the courts, they paid up, and they paid up handsomely, my lawyer making sure I got the right signatures on the appropriate documents, and at the same time squeezing his own fee out of them. I was to receive the best gynecological attention and have my baby in a very expensive and secluded private hospital. Thereafter I was to receive a liberal allowance that would continue until my child's education was complete. I gave birth to a son, Alec. It was hopeless continuing to live with my drunken mother and her latest equally drunken lover. I had the money to get out, so I got out. I found a pleasant cottage in a quiet suburb, and settled down to caring for my son, and considering my own future. Not an easy task for a by now seventeen-year old girl. As I have said, I am not a fool however naïve I may have been. At high school, for all my home life disadvantages, I had consistently topped my class. Had I stayed with my mother, I was destined to leave school at sixteen, however successful I was as a student. In such circumstances, I would have considered myself fortunate to get a job filling shelves in a supermarket. Now, with money at my disposal, I could consider a more rewarding future. I planned carefully. First, I had a period of breast feeding my son. After that, I would need to devote my energies to rearing him until he started school. By then I would be twenty-two. An enlightened State Government had provided for those who wanted to enhance their education at a latter stage of their life, and could do so taking account of their domestic circumstances. I planned to take advantage of this scheme and intended to enter an Adult Education College and build myself up to university entrance standard. Another aspect of life that I considered was what might be loosely termed, "the faith aspect." I had been brought up, if that is the right word, with an absence of standards in my life. I wanted something better for my life and my son's life than had been doled out to me living with my mother. I felt that I had no foundations to build my life on. It was the lady next door, Edith Palmer, who pointed the way for me. Edith and I became friends quite soon after I moved into the cottage. She was about fifteen years older than me, and became something of a substitute mother figure in my life. She had known hard times herself with an alcoholic husband whom she had left a couple of years before I came to know her. She understood the difficulties I had to face, and was always there to help me when I was in difficulty with Alec, or when I wanted to know how to cook this or that. I spoke to her about my life at home and my hopes for the future. When I told her I wanted some grounding in my life, she asked, "Has Alec been baptised?" I vaguely knew that baptism was some sort of religious naming ceremony, but it had never entered my mind to have the boys baptised, having had no religious background myself. I explained this to Edith. Edith had strength of character that given her difficult life, I wondered at. She always seemed to be doing things for others, including me. So, I was inclined to listen when she said, "Cindy, why don't you come along to our church. Meet our minister and some of the people. You'll find there are quite a few who have been through hard times and found a new life. It's a lot to do with our minister, Michael; he has a very positive approach to life. I was inclined to take what Edith said seriously, and two Sundays later found myself attending church with Edith. Little did I know that this was to lead on to one of the most wonderful periods of my life. There was a crèche for the children and this gave me an hour or so free from Alec, which was welcome. Never having anything to do with the Church, I found their activities strange at first, but the delight of that first morning was meeting the minister ("Just call me Michael"). He was not, as I expected, a bright, full of bonhomie young man, but a rather serious man of about thirty-five. The delight came from the way he listened, and demonstrated that he listened by the responses he made. Physically he was very presentable, and he had an immediate effect on my female sensibilities. To put that more plainly I thought, "He's a sexy looking beast." The manner in which the other women in the congregation, young and old sought his attention, confirmed my view of him. I was a little surprised when I was introduced to his wife. She was quite good looking, but had a stern, cold manner. I wondered how he had come to marry a woman like that. It was about three months after I started going to church with Edith, that I decided that there was something worthwhile about the place, and approached Michael to have Alec baptised. He was very receptive to the idea, and arranged to come to my home to instruct me in the meaning of baptism. The thought of having Michael to myself for an hour or more was rather exciting. It was on a weekday evening that he called to see me and with Alec asleep in his cot, we settled down in the lounge for my instruction. For all his seriousness, Michael had warmth that encouraged confidences. I found myself beginning to talk about my past life, including how I had become pregnant. We talked for nearly two hours, yet it seemed no time at all. Michael made no judgmental comments, but listened intently, and gave helpful and encouraging responses. He made me feel special, and when the time came for him to leave, I felt a happier and more optimistic person, and would have liked to beg him to stay longer. The day of the baptism with Edith standing with me at the font, I noticed how gently Michael held Alec, and I wondered if he made love as sensitively. I thought, "if only his hands would touch me." Over the next six months, I continued to attend church, and although there was little personal interplay between Michael and I, I came to adore him for his obvious compassion for people and his understanding of their life problems. At the end of the six months, I decided I wished to become what is called "a communicant member" of the Church. This, I learned, involved attending, "Communicant classes." At the time there were no other candidates for instruction, so once again I arranged with Michael to come to my house for the instruction. This was most convenient for me, as I would not have to trouble Edith to come in and sit with Alec while I was away. I also had the advantage that I would have Michael to myself, and on my own territory. The instruction consisted of six sessions, one held each week. I must explain that since my brief interlude with the father of my son, there had been no man in my life. I know myself well enough to realise that I have been blessed with good looks. I often felt men's eye's lustfully focused on me, and a couple of the men in the congregation, tired, no doubt, of their less than inspiring wives, made overtures, but I had turned these aside. You should know, however, that I was not inclined to sexual chastity. I had no nun like ambitions. I tried to gratify myself by masturbating, but felt that this was less than satisfactory. I wanted a man to love and who would love me. The plain truth is, Michael had become my ideal and fantasy. The first two sessions went quietly on the surface, but beneath the surface, and being alone in Michael's presence, I began to feel the stirrings of sexual arousal. Just to be near him caused my nipples to become firm and stand out. I began to lubricate, and had difficulty sitting still and concentrating. Between the first and second session, I found myself in a torment of desire for Michael, unable to get him out of my mind. He became the fantasy image during my masturbating, and I thought I would go out of my mind wanting him. It was at the end of the second session, and as he was preparing to leave, that I was beside myself with sexual craving for him. Hardly knowing what I was saying, I whispered, "I want to make love with you so badly, Michael." He paused in his preparations to leave. He did not pretend to be shocked or horrified, but looked at me long and penetratingly, as if he could see the inmost secret me. After a prolonged pause in which he seemed to be deciding how to respond, he said, "I don't think you really would want that, Cindy. How old are you?" "Nineteen," I replied. "And I'm thirty five," he responded. I noticed that he had not said an outright "no". "Age has nothing to do with this, Michael, and you know it hasn't." "You know we are forbidden extra-marital affairs?" "I know, Michael. That doesn't stop me wanting you, does it?" "No." "I'm not simply lusting for you. I really do love you." "It's no good, Cindy. I'm committed to my work, and if it were discovered that I was having an affair with anyone, especially a member of my congregation, I should be finished." "I know that too, Michael. I know you have a wife and two children. Do you think I haven't thought about all that? I wouldn't want a sexual relationship between us to be advertised all over the place. If only you would come to me…just sometimes…I…could you…couldn't you feel just a little of what I feel for you, or are you as cold as I think you are pretending to be?" He smiled wryly. "I'm not cold, Cindy, and I'm all too aware of your attractions." "Then why not…" "I'm going now, Cindy, and I want you to think about our situation. You are young and attractive. There will be young men…" "I want you, Michael." "Think about it, Cindy. We'll talk again." He rose to leave, and while I could conceal my swollen nipples, and he obviously could not feel the throbbing of my clitoris, he had no such advantage of concealment. I could see through the cloth of his trousers, the swelling of his manhood. Poor Michael tried to make surreptitious moves to hide his embarrassing projection, but with a so large an organ it was extremely difficult for him. I had only experienced one male sex organ, but it was quite clear to me that Michael's was somewhat larger than that of my late lover, who, as I was to learn later when I was in a position to make comparisons, made a poor showing in the penis size stakes. A shiver of apprehension rippled through me. I wondered if I had so far overstepped the mark that I had destroyed whatever relationship I had with Michael. I wanted to beg him to let me give him the ease he so clearly needed, but I restrained myself. He had said, "We'll talk later." We parted at the front door. It was a strained and formal "goodnight". Neither of us sought to touch the other. Closing the door behind him, I fled to my bedroom to strip off and masturbate. My fantasy now included the vision of Michael's penis, and after climaxing, I wept. I wanted that organ inside me, and nothing would do now, except I had Michael. I barely slept that night. I tossed and turned between masturbating, irreverently pleading with God to give me Michael as my lover. I knew Michael's wife left for her job as a librarian in the city centre about eight o'clock. I also knew his children were on their way to school by half past eight. I waited in a state of extreme sexual agitation until I knew it was safe to telephone him. I pressed in his number and after a few rings he answered. "Michael Sawyer." "This is Cindy, Michael. I must see you." "Shall I come now?" "No, no. There is Alec. Could you come this evening, after he's gone to sleep, say about eight o'clock?" "I've got a Parish Council meeting at seven thirty, it will probably finish about nine o'clock. Would that be all right?" "Yes, darling. As early as you can." The darling had slipped in almost unnoticed by me. "See you some time after nine, then?" "Yes. Goodbye." "Bye." I rang off, shaking with libidinous tension, brought on by just the sound of his voice. That day Alec seemed more demanding than usual. He was at the crawling stage, and seemed to get into all the places I didn't want him to be in. I don't suppose it was his fault really, it was just the stress and sexual arousal I was experiencing. The day dragged on. Apart from having to attend to Alec's needs, I could settle to nothing. The moment I started something, a vision of Michael standing before me, his penis projecting through the cloth of his trousers, exploded in my head. Edith came in for a while, and I was irritable and snappy with her. I think she must have assumed I was ovulating, because after a while she said, "Would you like me to go, or can I do something to help?" Dear Edith! I tried to tell her as gently as I could, that I had something I needed to sort out, and perhaps it would be better if she left me alone. She smiled and said, "If you need me, you know where I am." Eventually the long day drew to a close. Thankfully, Alec went off to sleep without fuss. At eight o'clock I took a shower and prepared myself for Michael's arrival. I decided to cheat, and slipped on a housecoat, leaving myself completely naked under it. If Michael did take me, I wanted to be as immediately open to him as possible. Nine o'clock and he hadn't arrived. Then fifteen minutes past nine and still no Michael. At twenty minutes past, I began to dread that he had changed his mind and was not coming. Just before half past nine, I heard a car draw up outside my house. I was shaking and it felt as if there was a lump in my throat. I went to stand by the front door so as to open it as soon as he rang. The bell clattered and I flung open the door. Michael stepped straight in and seized me in his arms. "Yes, Cindy." He had drawn me close to him and I felt his shaft pressing against my belly. I rotated my hips against him, and we kissed, open mouthed, tongues seeking. Still clinging to him, I pulled him towards and into my bedroom. His hand had slipped inside my housecoat and was caressing my breasts. I struggled to undress him, but got into such a tangle that he had to break from me and strip himself. I gasped as I looked at him and said, "Oh Michael, you're beautiful." Not something one usually says to a man, I believe, but the sight of his body, tall, straight and tapering down from wide shoulders to narrow hips, the strong thighs and calves sent a shiver of pleasure racing through me. Above all the sight of his magnificent sex organ riveted me. It stood up, its purple head, the foreskin rolled back tightly from it, glistened with pre-cum. I reached down and ran my hand down his long light brown shaft. I felt a quiver of trembling anticipation run through me. Suddenly a thought struck me that I should have considered before. "Have you got a condom, Michael?" "No need, darling, I've had a vasectomy." I relaxed on hearing this, and since I had been in a state of arousal all day, I was more than ready for his entry. I began to beg him: "Please, Michael, don't make me wait. Please…now…" He lifted me on to the narrow single bed and parting my legs came between them. I felt him searching for my entrance with his penis. I drew my legs wide apart and up, and guided him into me with my hand. He was so gentle in his entry, almost as if he feared he might hurt me. There was no pain only the delicious tightness of his shaft against the walls of my vagina. I gripped him with my vaginal muscle and he groaned, so I continued to grip and release him in passionate spasms. He continued to move into me slowly until he seemed to reached the top of my tunnel, then he stopped for a moment. I reached down and found that he had inserted his entire length into me. We lay, looking into each other's eyes, his hand fondling my breasts, mine roaming over his body. "Oh my God, Cindy, I've wanted you so badly." Having seen his erection the previous evening, I could truthfully reply, "I know, darling." He started to move in me and I knew he would come quickly, but I was even quicker. I felt my orgasm building, and as I believe is the case with many women as they hang for a moment on the brink of that delicious torment, I began to beg him not to make me come. "No, no… Michael… please… don't make me… I can't stand it, it's agony." All the time I begged not to make me come, I was clinging to him, my legs wrapped round him, in complete contradiction to my words. The orgasm built towards its summit, then came crashing over me in turmoil of screaming unbridled glorious anguish. As far as I was coherent at all, I was now begging Michael not to stop, ever. As my crisis came, Michael gave a powerful thrust into me. He cried out, "Oh God, Cindy," then I felt the first thump of his sperm against the top of my vagina. It seemed to explode out of him like an erupting volcano, adding to my already frenzied state. Then we were howling and crying out together, and as I passed my peak, I began to sob with joy. One for the Price of Two It was the most wonderful orgasm I had experienced in my limited sexual encounters. I felt weak and sated, and at the same time relaxed and intoxicated with love for this beautiful man. Long after we had been released from our long built up sexual tensions, we clung together, his penis still piercing me, both of us unwilling to pull apart. I whispered to him, "I love you Michael, I love you as I've never loved any one before. Don't leave me." Between kissing me and caressing my breasts, his shaft still inside me, Michael spoke his words of love and warning. "Cindy, I love you, but you know I can't stay with you. If you want to go on making love with me, then we must be very guarded. We can never have the fullness of love we might have had in marriage. That is the pain of people in our situation. If it's more than you can accept, you only have to say so, only know that I love you and want you." I knew it too well, and my words, "don't leave me," were only a cry trying to reinforce my love for him. I wanted him on any terms, however limited. Had he been a man in other circumstances, and divorce easier, marriage was what I might have asked of him, but I knew the Church frowned upon, and usually dismissed, ministers who parted from their wives. That first night, after one coupling, Michael had to go home, even though we both knew we could have spent the whole night making love. We went through the cold practicalities, arranging when we could be together. It worked out that in the coming years we could only come together two, sometimes three, times a week, and always after Michael had attended an evening meeting. Often our time together was brief – sometimes only half an hour or an hour at best. This lasted until Alec started school, then we were able to come together during the day, and this meant we had up to three hours with each other at least once every week, and perhaps for briefer periods at other times. These were halcyon years for me, and though I could have had other men – men in a position to offer me marriage – I thought that having experienced Michael, nothing else would satisfy. One lurking anxiety had been the question of whether I was depriving his wife of her conjugal rights. In bits and pieces, I learned about Michael's situation at home. After giving birth to two children, his wife, as it were, shut up sexual shop. She wrapped herself in her work as a librarian, and moved from the marriage bed into another room. Like me, Michael was not fitted for a life of sexual abstinence, but it was not until I had been bold enough to tell him I wanted him, that he had made any move to gratify his sensual needs with me. Very infrequently, we managed to spend a night together when his wife went with their children to visit relatives in a distant city. Yet, even this was difficult. Michael had to arrive after Alec was asleep, and be gone before he woke in the morning. Not easy as he grew older and more boisterous. For all the difficulties, I felt secure in Michael's tender love. I commenced my studies, and even in this, he was able to help me. Being very well educated him self, he guided me through many academic difficulties. I gained my ambition and entered university, and having discovered I had a gift for languages, I specialised in this area. So, the happy days went on, loving and being loved by Michael, and watching my son grow towards manhood. I suppose I grew complacent, thinking it would never end. It was impossible for our relationship to be completely hidden, and especially could it not be hidden from my neighbour, Edith. She saw Michael coming and going, and worked out what was going on. One day, about three months after Michael and I had started making love, she confronted me about it. "Cindy, I don't condemn what you and Michael are doing. If he can find the love and warmth he needs with you, and which he obviously does not get from that cold fish he's married to, then I'm happy for him. It's you I'm worried about." "You're young and could get plenty of men…men who would marry you. One day you and Michael will have to part, and I'd hate to see you hurt. Be careful, Cindy, or you'll end up with a broken heart." I did not accept what she said. I believed Michael would never leave me, and as the years went on, and our devotion to each other deepened, I thought it would never end. Then one day the blow fell upon us. The Church had a rule that stated a minister could only stay on in a Parish for a given number of years. Michael and I had been lovers for fifteen years, and then it was decreed that he must transfer to another Parish. It was our hope that he would be transferred to another nearby suburban Parish, but Michael was now fifty, his children grown up and gone from home, and his wife claimed she was ready for a change of scenery. Thus the Church bureaucracy in its "wisdom", decided that Michael should go to a mining town about six hundred kilometres distant from where I lived. We were both distraught at this situation. I was by then serving as a translator for a publishing house, and for various companies seeking to market abroad. Alec was getting towards the end of his high school years, with every sign being he would go on to university. We tried to look at the situation from every possible angle. Michael would have sacrificed all for me, divorced, left the ministry and married me. From the very beginning, I had told myself I would never let him do that. I refused to agree with the proposition now. Too much would come crashing down, and I had learned something about being unselfish. I could not bring myself to attend the congregation gathering for his farewell. Instead, we said our private goodbye, making love and in tears. After he had gone, I went into that form of depression called "grieving". In a way it was worse than when someone close dies. I knew Michael was out there somewhere, but was lost to me. I swore to myself there would never be another man in my life, and then felt agonising pangs of jealousy as I thought Michael might find another lover. Looking back now at that time, and seeing it objectively, I can understand that there was no reason why Michael should not find another love partner. He had offered to give up everything for me, and I had said "no". We exchanged letters and occasionally spoke on the telephone, but in time, this began to diminish until we stopped contacting each other completely. I suppose we both felt that to try to continue our relationship in this way was only to prolong the agony. So from the joyful years I descended into a dark pit. I struggled on, trying to pretend that everything was fine for the sake of Alec. I would have been deluding myself if I thought Alan had not known about Michael and I. He never made a direct comment about the sexual aspect, but often teased me in fun about my "Parson boyfriend." I think he was rather pleased that his mother had someone in her life that made her so happy. He was now eighteen and had grown into a sensitive, fine looking young man, and could not fail to notice the gloom that came over me after Michael's departure. When he was in his mid teens I understood he was ready to engage in sexual intercourse. Out of my own experience, I sternly counseled him about how to treat a girl. He was to make sure she did not get pregnant, treat her honourably and make sure she got as much pleasure as she gave him. I also instructed him, that if he was going to engage in sex, he was to bring the girl home, and not take her in the back of his car or some other equally uncomfortable place. It did not take long for Alec to announce that he and a girl called "Wendy" wanted to start having sexual intercourse. "It's okay, mum," Alan blithely explained, "she's on the pill." "Have you spoken to Wendy's mother about this?" I asked. He looked abashed. "Well, no, mum, I haven't, but I think Wendy has." "Then you won't mind if I speak to her, will you?" Alec looked rather startled at this, but finally agreed. I telephoned Wendy's mother and made an appointment to go and speak with her. She proved to be a very amiable woman and confirmed that Wendy had spoken to her about starting a sexual relationship with Alec. "You know," she said, "I'd much rather this than she went around having sex in secret, and possibly promiscuously. If they stay faithful to each other, there's no danger of disease, either. I put her on the pill when she turned sixteen, just in case. Her father and I are quite happy for her to have sex with your son, and I'm glad you've offered to let them use your house. I have made the same offer, so they can come to us, or you." The first time Wendy visited, I found her to be a slightly plump and cheerful young woman, with a very sweet disposition. I could well understand Alec being enamoured of her. She thanked me without specifying for what she was thanking me, but we both knew. For the next two years, Wendy was a regular visitor, arriving a couple of times each week. I saw her only briefly as Alec escorted her to his bedroom, and on the first such visit, I became a bit alarmed. Soon after their departure to the bedroom, I heard cries and yelps, culminating in male groans and a female shriek. I thought he must have been hurting the girl and was about to intervene when the noises subsided and all was quiet for about half an hour. Then there was another round of cries and a female shriek, followed by a silence. My doubts about what had been going on were ameliorated when the young people finally emerged. Wendy, looking like the cat that had just got at the cream, seemed very relaxed and happy. Alec appeared equally content with his lot in life. Wendy engaged once more in non-specific thanks, then she departed with Alec who was to escort her home. From then on, the noises of vigorous copulation were to be heard a couple of times each week in our house. Alec would depart for Wendy's home on other occasions, where, no doubt, they engaged in further sexual activity. As result of this relationship, I noticed that Alec was much more relaxed and able to concentrate more on his studies. From a practical point of view, the relief from the frustrated sexual needs that beset so many young people had worked well for Alec, and I think Wendy. For as long as I still had Michael, the pleasures of the young people were a happy event as far as I was concerned. That Wendy was contented with Alec did not altogether surprise me, since on a few occasions when I had glimpsed his genital endowment, I noted he was better served than his father was. I concluded that his well-developed organ must have been inherited from my side of the family. It was when Michael and I parted, that the joyful sounds emanating from the bedroom began to have a negative effect on me. However I justified my feelings at the time, looking back I can now see it was raw envy. Here was I, still young and sexually vibrant, cut off from, and grieving for my lost love, and there were these young people, vigorously deriving joy from each other just a few metres away from me. It seemed to rub salt into an already painful wound. Then a change in the situation came about. It was around six months after Michael and I parted, that one week I noticed Wendy did not turn up. This had happened before when she had gone away with her parents on a trip, or on other odd occasions. It usually meant that Alec was a bit grouchy, but nothing worse. At first, I paid no attention to Wendy's absence, but by the end of the second week I was prompted to ask where she was. We had both showered and clad in our dressing gowns we were wandering around doing the last little clearing up jobs before going to bed, when I asked my question. "What's happened to Wendy? Are you two all right? "Gone away," replied Alec, darkly. "When is she coming back?" "Not coming back," he answered. "Do you mean you've broken up with her?" "Not exactly," he said, "She's not going to university, so she's got a job up north, and has gone there to live. We talked about still seeing each other, and how we might get married one day, but I know it won't happen like that. It sounded like a wretched rerun of Michael and I, except that Alec would be better placed to get over the loss of Wendy. I could see that he was near to tears talking about his lost Wendy, so drawing him to sit beside me on the couch, I tried to console him, telling them there would be other girls, and all the usual useless cliches. In doing this, I brought my own misery to the surface and we both ended up crying and hugging each other. In the course of this sobbing session, Alec revealed that he had known for years about Michael and I, and was deeply sorry for us both when we had to part, but didn't know how to express it. He went on: "You know mum, when I first started to get sexual feelings, and before I had Wendy, I used to get quite jealous of you and Michael. I think I was afraid you loved him more than me." "Don't be silly, darling, it wasn't a case of more or less love, it was just different sorts of love." "It wasn't for me, mother." I didn't understand what he meant, so I turned to him and gently kissing him on the lips, I said. "Well, there's nothing to be jealous about now, is there, darling?" I suppose it was the grief of loss that helped bring about what now happened. I have noticed that human emotion is non-specific. I mean, one sort of emotion can flow into another, even when there does not seem to be any direct connection between the emotions involved. Alec returned my kiss, but it was not what is called a "filial" kiss. Nor was my response that of a mother with her son. I opened my lips and his tongue flickered over them. I felt his hand slip inside my dressing gown to touch and caress my breasts. I had not had man for months, and Alec had been without his Wendy for nearly two weeks. Both of us were sexually pent-up and our attempts to console each other now spilled over into sexual arousal. Our kissing became frenzied, and Alec's gentle pressing of my nipples worked on me like an aphrodisiac. I think we both wanted the comfort that sexual coupling can give, and I not only surrendered to his caresses, but also responded to them. He had opened my dressing gown to expose my breasts and was suckling my nipples. I reached down and found his erect penis and began to move the foreskin, slowly at first, then gradually speeding up. "No wonder Wendy screamed with ecstacy," I thought, as I felt the size of his shaft. His fingers had sought, and found, the outer lips of my vulva, and parting them; I felt a finger inserted into me, while his thumb moved round my clitoris in a gentle circular motion. "Wendy taught him well," I thought. Feeling that I was saturated with my love fluids, Alec moved me to lie along the couch, and parted my legs. He came over me and began his entrance when with a shock of realisation I began to try to stop him. "No darling…no…no. Not now, please, not now…you mustn't…you'll…" It was too late. He had penetrated quickly to his full length, and he was so desperate he shot his sperm into me immediately. As he fired into me, in gasping tones he cried out his love for me. "I've wanted you…even when Wendy and I…it was always you…you don't know how much…" He finished with a long gasping sigh, the sound of one who had, after long abstinence had finally found fulfillment. Perhaps like a starving man who has found the food he lusted for. I should have got up and run to the bathroom to wash his semen out of me, but he continued to lie inside me, and now I did not care. I wanted him there. I wanted him to make me come. As I lay there, I stroked his face and hair, murmuring my love for him, realising the agony he must have gone through, knowing Michael was making love to the woman he wanted. Feeling sorry for Wendy also who, it now seemed, had been a substitute for me. I began to cry softly and Alec withdrew from me." "Mother, I'm sorry, I don't know what…I just wanted…I've always wanted to…" "It's all right, my love. Nothing to be sorry for. We were distressed so we consoled each other." "But you said 'no', and I still went ahead." "You had already entered me by then, darling. Do you think you could have stopped?" "Not really, I was coming from the first moment I was inside you. But you wanted me to stop." "Well, I did, but then I didn't. You see…" I hesitated. Should I tell him or not. I was still sexually worked up and wanted him to make love with me again. If I told him, would he be turned off? I decided it was better to be honest right at the start, because, if we did make love again, I was fairly sure it would not stop at that. "Darling, I have to tell you…you see, I could get pregnant." "But you and Michael…" "He had a vasectomy, my love." "Oh my God, I thought you must be…" "On the pill?" I finished his sentence for him. "Yes." "Do you mind that I'm not?" "You mean, I could have made my own mother pregnant?" "It is possible. Would it have stopped you if you'd known?" "I'm not sure, mother. If I'd known, I might have stopped when you said 'no', or at least tried to. I haven't been a very loving son, have I?" "If you believe that, I might have to say I haven't been a very loving mother." "Oh no, mother, that's not true…" I stopped him before he went on; "Alec, I'm not saying 'no' now, am I?" "You want me to…" "Yes, I want you to, very dearly." "But suppose I do make you pregnant, how would you feel?" "Do you know, darling, I think I would be delighted." There flashed through my mind all the times with Michael when I would have loved him to impregnate me, I wanted so much to bear his child. That could not happen with him, but why not now, with someone else I loved dearly? I went on: "How would you feel, fathering a child with your mother, my love?" "Very excited," he replied, his voice shaking with emotion." I could see he already had another erection so I said, "Then why don't we clean ourselves up a bit, and then you can take me to bed – my bed – I don't want to be confined in that single bed of yours," I smiled. After the first few couplings with Michael on the single bed I had once used, I had made sure I purchased a nice big lover's bed. We had a shower together during which Alec took me standing up or rather; he lifted me so I could slide on to his penis. He was too tall, or I was too short, to actually have sex with him standing. I was a little disappointed that he had ejaculated into me in the shower, thinking it would spoil what I had hoped was to take place in bed. I need not have worried. By the time we had cleaned each other's genitals again, he was already on his way to another erection. He carried me to the bedroom and laid me gently on the bed. When he had come beside me, I was able to look at him properly for the first time. When he had entered puberty he had become shy about my seeing his body, so I had only fleeting glimpses of him naked. Now my eyes feasted on him. "What a beautiful boy I have made," I thought, and in a mental flashback I remembered calling someone else, "Beautiful". I spoke those or similar words now: "You have such a beautiful body, Alec." I wanted to add, "how could Wendy leave you," but thought better of it. Alex gave a short laugh, "It's a body you made." I looked at his manhood, the long thick shaft culminating in a gorgeous rosy crown; the foreskin was peeled back to show it glistening as it discharged pre-cum. I took it in my hand, and heard him give a little gasp. I did not massage it, but slowly explored it, first with my fingers, then with my tongue, licking up his pre-cum. It was a magnificent organ. I had had it in me hastily twice, but next time I was determined I was going to enjoy it to the full. Having discharged into me twice, I felt sure that Alec would last longer next time. One for the Price of Two Alec brought an end to my contemplation of his sexual organ by rolling me on to my back. His hand tenderly caressing my breast, he took a nipple into his mouth and suckled me. It took me back nearly eighteen years, to when I breastfed him. "If only," I thought, "I had milk to give him now, just to feed him once more." But now, it was another hunger I would satisfy in him. I would nourish another human craving. As one hand massaged my breast, the other explored my body, moving down slowly to my mons, then further down to slip a finger into my entrance, with his thumb once more circling my clitoris. I as giving out little squeals of pleasure, then he stopped, moved down to my vulva, and putting a couple of pillows under my buttocks, he raised my vulva to his mouth, and parting my outer lips, he exposed the inner little buds. I felt his tongue start to lick me, tasting my female fluids as I had tasted his pre-cum. My squeals became more intense as his tongue thrust, first into my entrance, then began to circle my clitoris. I was hanging on the edge of my orgasm, trying to fight it off until he had entered me with his penis. At last, he came over me, searching with the crown of his shaft to find my opening. I reached down with my hand and guided him in. He slipped in very gently, moving slowly along my tunnel as if he were relishing each moment, each little movement that took him deeper. He fitted tightly and I felt him against the warm moist walls of my vagina. I gripped my muscle round his shaft, and he gave a loud moan of ecstacy and plunged in to the full depth of his long shaft, pressing up against my cervix. I now released myself from the restraint I had exercised, and let my orgasm come. It roared in like a raging storm, flinging me into a maelstrom of swirling coloured lights. I heard screams, and distantly knew they were mine. It was not until we had calmed down I discovered how intense our coupling had been, and what wounds I had inflicted on Alex with my teeth and nails. Now, in the midst of the urgency of our loving and lust, I was unaware of the madness that must have overtaken me. I felt Alec put his hands under my buttocks to raise my vagina so as to give him maximum depth. I wrapped my legs round him, and with what sound like a shout of wild exultation, he burst into me with his semen. His detonation into me seemed to stimulate my orgasm further, the maelstrom whirled me even faster, the lights grew more intense, and my whole body was shaking with the force of our union. My climax came as Alec made a desperate thrust into me with the final burst of his ejaculation. I think the noise we made in that moment must have awakened the whole neighbourhood. I was coming down on the other side, pleading with Alec not to withdraw. Actually he made no move to part from me, but lay panting, his organ slowly slackening, as he searched for words of love to pour over me. My screams had now fallen away to become little squeals of pleasure again, as still shaking with the diminishing reverberations of my orgasm, I held on to him, and like him, trying to find the words to express the power of the love I felt for him. However articulate a person might be, there are some things that go beyond words, like experiences of the holy that some people have encountered. Any words that are used are unworthy of the actual experience. That is how I, and I think Alec also, felt about this, our first true coupling. The little shock waves I was experiencing finally faded, then ceased, but still I wanted him to stay in me, and he made no move to withdraw. At that moment, I had one of those odd humorous thoughts one can get in these moments, and I spoke it aloud. "Darling, if that didn't fertilise me, nothing will." We both shook with laughter, and as we did so, I felt his now half-slackened penis jerking inside me. I think I was wrong about that particular intercourse making me pregnant. When I did discover I was pregnant, and tried to do some arithmetic to find out when it might have happened, I concluded it was on another occasion. One can never be certain about these things, but the occasion that seemed most likely was not one of insane lust, but a very gentle, truly loving union. It was a night when I wanted to totally surrender myself to Alec. I was wide open to him and knew I was soft, warm and yielding. I do not think I had ever produced so much lubricant before, and Alec took me very slowly. We looked into each other's eyes, and spoke of love and desire. I remembered I had whispered to him, "Fertilise me tonight, my love, give me a baby." When we orgasmed, it was a very quiet and tender, both of us very aware of each other. Alec's first spurt of his seed into me came with a slight grunt, and thereafter he seemed to flow into me. My orgasm lacked the monumental raging I often experienced with Alec. I felt very tenderly towards him, and clung to him, feeling the strength of his body and wanting to melt into him or he into me. That is how Alec and I became lovers. We had both lost a love, and out of the grief of our losses, we found an unexpected love for each other. I confess that I suffered uncertainties about Alec for along time. My first lover had deserted me, and events had torn me from my second. Was I destined to eventually lose yet another? Well, our little Gretchen is now ten, and Jason eight. Alec and I are still lovers who are capable of couplings that range from the very tender to the maelstrom. I do wish I could have given Alec more children, he's such a wonderful father.