Incestuous Cohabiting

Being caught naked in your garden by your husband inevitably causes problems. Being with a man who is also naked compounds that. Being about to be fucked by that other man makes it almost impossible to explain. And with that naked man being your son fucks things up completely.

There can only be one solution. Yes Richard divorced me.

Being a lawyer he did it quickly without any mention of the reason coming out; irreconcilable differences being the court jargon for the fact that my son and I had fallen in love.

*

It had been rumbling around between Peter and me for some time. It started with sly glances when I was showing a little too much of my, still at forty five, shapely, legs or my full, ample C cup, breasts. It went on with him brushing up against me, us touching each other unnecessarily and holding each other's glances. It increased when he found Richard's and my collection of 'intimate' photos of me on my laptop and it exploded when he persuaded me to pose for him. That went too far and we ended up naked with me masturbating him on our living room floor.

Luckily in many ways Peter was going travelling in South America before going off to university in the autumn. That would remove the temptation for both of us for we had admitted to each other lying naked on that floor that we could not resist each other. It almost worked, but as usual Richard let me down. The morning we were due to take Peter to Heathrow from our horrible house in St Albans something important came up at the law firm where he was a partner. I had to take him by myself. We ended up in a field near Slough masturbating each other with his cum soaking my bra so that I had to drive home braless.

We kept in touch when he was travelling. This was mainly by emails, occasionally by phone and a few times by yahoo messenger and phone. They were amazing yet very worrying. Amazing because we could talk and see each other on cam, worrying because inevitably I suppose, we cybered. Yes my son fucked me over the net.

He had only been home a day. One night and one day. I had tried. I had tried so hard, so very, very hard to resist the tremendous temptation and it had nearly worked. Once again Richard's work intervened. We were supposed to be together as a family for the few days before Peter went off to college, but Richard had to go to Paris overnight. That left Peter and I alone in the house. How the hell we ended up naked in the little courtyard at the back of the house that is such a suntrap I don't remember. But I remember vividly being pushed back against the wall by my son, having his lovely cock between my thighs and him about to fuck me when Richard walked in. The trip had been cancelled.

*

Richard rarely loses his temper. He keeps his cool all the time, but then top corporate lawyers have to do that. He quickly summed up the situation in the garden that afternoon a few months ago now. He hardly said anything but I recall him telling Peter to get dressed and get out. He just told me to get dressed. Peter did as Richard told him and I slipped my jeans and tee shirt on; I couldn't find my underwear.

There was no messing around. He explained in very clinical terms exactly what would happen. He would move out and stay at a company flat in town while I sorted myself out. He would keep the house in St Albans "After all you have always hated it haven't you?" and I could keep the 'cottage in Norfolk and the house in Florida.

"I'll draw up an outline agreement tomorrow and then we can get things moving" he'd said as he packed. "I'll send someone for the rest of my stuff."

That was it. No screaming, no shouting, no recriminations and no tears; just a cold clinical closure on a twenty two-year marriage. Richard packed one suitcase, picked up his laptop, iPad and golf clubs and in less than hour from catching us he was driving his new Mercedes out of the driveway and my life.

I felt dead inside. Upset? Maybe, but not as much as I would have imagined. There was just a dull ache and a concern over the future and what we would tell our friends, family and work colleagues. The marriage had been on the wane for ages. We rarely had sex and nowadays when we did he generally needed the stimulus of photographing me undressing to get him going. But then with the hours he worked when in England and the travelling he did, at least a week away every month, the marriage didn't really have a chance. For a couple of years now I had contemplated having an affair. Like many women in the mid-forties I had also thought about finding a toy boy. Little did I imagine that my eighteen year old son would be the provider of both of those thoughts.

My phone beeped. There was a text it was from Peter.

'How r things"

"Ok he's gon"

"Can I cum round"

I smiled at the misuse of the word. Being a bit of a wordsmith and having once worked in and owned a publishing company I didn't really like textspeak, but sometimes I indulge.

"U can cum round, square, oblong or oval if you like"

"Mum how cd u? On my way"

It was no more than ten minutes later that he parked the new MINI Cooper S we had bought him for getting such good A-level results in the pea shingle covered driveway. I opened the door. Before I could even close it he pulled me into his arms and still with the door open he kissed me. I responded immediately. We ground our lips together, probed our tongues into the others mouth and writhed our bodies against the others. All the pent up desire for each other, the lust, the love and the sheer fucking need to fuck each other exploded as we kissed just inside the front door.

"Mum I am so sorry" he gasped between kissing me.

"It wasn't your fault, don't apologise" I managed to mutter back as the kiss went on and on.

His hands were all over me. In my shoulder-length, ash blonde hair, on my neck, up and down my back and on my bum.

"Oh God" he grunted when his hands ran down my spine and realised I wasn't wearing a bra. His hand immediately slid round my body and cupped my breast that was straining against the cotton of my tee shirt. I kissed him even harder as he pushed the bulge of his erection into my stomach, the place that had nurtured him for nine months, and slid his hand up my tee shirt and right onto my breast. Reaching down I gripped the hem of my tee shirt and tore it up and over my head. I bared my breasts for Peter, I wanted my son to see and have his mother's full tits that were aching for his touch.

Sexually consummating our incestuous mother/son relationship became the urgency for us. It became the critical event. We had been close several times, but so far I had not had my baby's cock inside me. No so far we hadn't had full sex. My son had not yet fucked me and we both so badly wanted to rectify that. He also pulled his tee shirt off and we both fumbled with the zips on our jeans.

Naked again I was pulled into his arms.

"Let's go to bed darling" I whispered into his ear.

Taking his hand I led him up the stairs acutely conscious that his face was just inches behind my bare bum to my bedroom. Momentarily balking at the idea of committing incest in my marital bed, but then realising that my marriage was over so it wasn't such a bed, I took my son to that bedroom. We lay on it kissing, rolling around in each other's arms and grinding our bodies together as we moved inexorably to what I recognised had become our sexual destiny.

"Oh mum, oh Cat" he sighed as he lay on top of me and held my arms above my head. He raised himself up and stared down at me. I enjoyed the look in his eyes as he stared at my breasts.

"Darling, yes, yes" I groaned as I felt his cock nuzzling my lips. I put my arms all the way round him, pulled him down so his firm chest squashed my breasts and whispered. "It's time Peter. At last."

"Oh yes" he sighed as looking deep into my eyes he pushed forward and surged his cock right up my cunt.

I had never felt such emotions as when he slid deep into me and held himself rigid as we kissed. All thought s of impropriety, of wrongdoing or breaking laws left my mind. My loyalty to my husband vanished in a flash. This seemed so perfect, so natural and simply so right. It felt as though we were doing what had always been ordained, what had been arranged and ordered for us by a greater force. It was what we had both always wanted and needed.

"What's the matter?" He asked as he heard me sobbing and saw the tears running down my face.

"Nothing my darling."

"Why are you crying?"

"I am just so happy, this is the most emotional thing that has ever happened to me."

"Oh yes Cat, yes" he groaned kissing me and starting to fuck me with long, deep even thrusts.

It didn't last long. It couldn't. There was no need for length of time for the emotional intensity was so extreme for both of us that our mind was controlling events. It was that which was determining when both of us climaxed and it was that which gave me one of the strongest orgasms I had ever experienced. I was so pleased, though, that even as wave after wave of incredible feelings broke over me I heard him grunting as his cock exploded and my son's spunk poured into my cunt as we experienced our first mutual climax.

We slept together that night and made love for most of it. We stayed in the next day and in addition to making love for a lot of the time we talked. We talked about the inevitable divorce, what we would tell the different groups of friends, relatives, acquaintances, sports club members and work colleagues and of course us.

"Mum you have to realise that I am in love with you?" He said round about mid-morning causing us to make love again this time on the rug on the floor of my conservatory

Peter was due to go to university in two weeks time. Some time during the afternoon he said.

"I can't leave you to handle what's going to happen by yourself."

"You have to go, you worked so hard."

"University can wait, I can always go later."

"But you want to go."

"I can't leave you, I want to be with you more than I want to go to uni."

This time we had sex in the little courtyard where Richard had caught us just the day before, although that seemed such an age ago.

Over dinner I gave in and agreed that he didn't have to go.

"I want us to live together as man and woman, as lovers, not mother and daughter."

I didn't say it then, but that idea so excited me. It was exactly what I wanted, but I was too scared to suggest it.

*

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of lovemaking with my son, telling lies to nearly everyone we knew and receiving a seeming endless series of legal documents from Richard's firm. A girl friend at the tennis club where I remained a member, we opted for Richard leaving that and me the golf club, gave me the name of the lawyer 'who had handled her divorce. I briefed her and simply let her get on with it. Richard was fair with his demands. In any case with the money I had received when I sold the family firm that had been safely invested and the inheritances I had received, my wealth far exceeded his. I didn't want anything for myself and asking for maintenance for Peter, our son and my lover seemed incongruous.

There were many awkward moments particularly when people asked why Peter hadn't gone to university. We had agreed to keep as near to the truth as possible. Obviously we couldn't say it was because he wanted to stay home and make love to his mum, so we said it was so he could help me cope with the divorce.

I wanted to get out of the horrible Victorian house as soon as I could, I hated it. It had been in Richard's family since it was built in eighteen forty and they all loved it; it had always been a bone of contention between us.

"Let's move into town" I suggested one evening when we were having dinner.

"St Albans?"

"No London."

"Where?"

"Anywhere, I'll rent."

We talked about that for ages slowly refining the idea until we agreed a plan. Yes we would get out of the house, but we wouldn't move to London. Instead we would move to the house in Florida that was mine, lock, stock and barrel.

Our life had become fairly routine. Peter didn't have a job, but had decided to start studying for his IT and Business Studies degree at home. He would work most mornings while I either played tennis or went to the gym or did the shopping. We'd meet up for a light lunch at home and often have sex during the afternoon. Occasionally we would go out to dinner, but more often we'd eat in unless it was at a restaurant where the staff knew us as mother and son. I found it awkward being out with Peter for I felt very uncomfortable with the stares and 'knowing glances' that suggested 'look at that cougar with her young toy boy she must be so desperate.'

I felt particularly uncomfortable around the town where we lived, St Albans, especially when we 'bumped into' people we knew. I was sure that they would be guessing what was going on between us, that people who knew us would be gossiping about us and that something would show about us living together not as mother and son, but as lovers. I saw looks in friend's eyes, I read hints into everything they said and became convinced that somehow they knew. I was becoming paranoid about it.

It made me feel awful. I was weepy and of course full of guilt, remorse and self-doubt. I hadn't wanted or expected this to happen. I was aware of the risks of committing incest with my son, but never in my wildest dreams did I think things would go this far or this way. I had thought about the difficulties that would confront us when Peter came home from university, when perhaps he found a girl friend or when one of us wanted to end what we had started. My thinking hadn't gone further than that. It couldn't for there was no way I could have possibly contemplated what had actually happened or have foreseen us being in the situation we were now in.

I was so worried that Peter would be affected by what was going on and would decide that 'having an affair' with his mother just wasn't worth it. But not once did he really give me cause to think that way for he was a stalwart with his support, his love and his lovemaking.

I couldn't wait to get away, to 'escape' as I saw it to Florida. We hadn't used the house much, which was on the Gulf coast not far from Sarasota, so we knew very few people and, more importantly few knew me or us. Just how we would cope with the situation I hadn't worked out, but it was a pretty relaxed place with lots of seemingly oddball characters so I wasn't too worried: 'We'll work something out' I told myself.

I hurried the arrangements so that within three weeks of us being caught, we were flying Virgin upper class to Orlando. As the plane lifted off from Gatwick so much seemed to lift from me. I felt better and with Peter next to me the future took on a slightly more encouraging light than it had in the fucking mausoleum of the St Albans house.

We drank too much on the plane and we both got rather giggly. I think it was the prospect of our 'new life' and the relief of getting away from home and Richard that caused that.

The quite beautiful looking two female cabin crew in their red skirts and white blouses were very attentive to us and the other two couples in upper class. As usual, however, I had to make the point that Richard was my son, I was embarrassed at what they were thinking when they heard us giggling and chatting and I was worried that they would have seen us touching the other's arm or wrist. Again I was sure they suspected that there was more between us than 'motherly love;' they were absolutely correct. When they dimmed the lights for the film we held hands, as they had their lunch we kissed and as the other couples snoozed the afternoon away he caressed my breasts and I stroked his cock.

"God I so need you" he groaned into my ear.

"I've always had an ambition to join the mile high club" I smiled.

"We can't here."

"I know, I always visualised being shagged in the loo, but we would be noticed so we'll have to pass" I told him as he pinched my nipple through my bra.

Rather than take on the two hour drive across Florida and down the west coast I had booked us into a hotel for the night, the idea being to have a rental car delivered to the hotel the next morning. We got to the hotel around two and Peter handled the checking in as I stood off to one side hoping the reservations clerk would not look closely and see my age. Peter decided to have a snooze on the bed so I opted to go to the pool.

It wasn't very crowded and I found a sun bed in a corner of the large pool area. I was soon nearly asleep and my mind kept running over the amazing events of the past few weeks. Oddly, I didn't feel as concerned about the future as I had during the first few days after Richard caught us so my mind was more on Peter and the sex we'd had. I smiled when I realised just how much there had been. As I slipped in and out of sleep I worked out that the event with Richard had been twenty four days ago. During that time Peter and I must have averaged having sex at least three times a day so my son had fucked me over seventy times in three weeks, more than his father had in the past two years I calculated. But it hadn't all been penetrative sex. I had taught him other sexual techniques as well, though to be fair he didn't need much educating.

After that first time we had full sex on the evening Richard left we did it at least twice more that night. Our need and demand for each other was so great that we applied little subtlety to our lovemaking. Whilst tender, it was also raw and urgent. It was as though we had to make up for lost time and boy during that night did we do that? My son's sexual technique and his consideration towards me gaining as much pleasure as possible impressed me considerably. Feeling a little jealous I made a mental note to ask him about his conquests.

We stayed in bed most of the next day talking about what had happened and what we were going to do. Both of us several times reiterated that we wanted to live as lovers, not mother and son; I found that so sexy, but so right. We spent the day dozing and touching each other. We would arouse each other, have sex then doze again occasionally getting up to prepare some food. We really were making up for lost time. Around five in the afternoon we showered and bare footed we slipped into our dressing gowns. I prepared the salads and Peter barbecued a couple of steaks. We set the table in that little courtyard where Richard had caught us and had a delightful and very romantic dinner. We drank a bottle of red wine and I made us espressos as Peter cleared the plates away. It was quite lovely doing things together especially as Richard and I had never worked like that. It was also lovely being so close to each other that we were able to have little kisses and caresses as we ate and then cleared away. It was as erotic as it was romantic.

Feeling marvellously mellow after the wine and so wonderfully in love with my son, both emotionally as I always had been of course and now incredibly physically as well, I leaned across the table and kissed him on the lips. Not bothering that my gown gaped alarmingly and fully exposed my breasts I slid my tongue into his ear and then whispered.

"I am going to take you to my bed and make the most incredible love to you."

He put his arms round me, pulled me to him and kissed me hard, fully on my mouth. He slid the gown off my shoulders baring me above the waist. The feel of the air on my nudity was marvellous, but not unusual. Recently I had often sat in the courtyard or wandered in the secluded garden in just my panties or completely naked and I had masturbated there a few times as well.

"Let me have you here?"

"No inside, come on."

In the bedroom I slipped my gown off.