The Sperm Donor Ch. 02byTibvo©
Anju Chowdry sat on her son's bed stunned. She could not believe what she had just read. She looked at the sheets of printed text, which have been thrown across the boy's bed, feeling completely numb.
Every time she came into Vinod's bedroom to tidy it up, she had always half expected to find some sort of pornography. After all, he was a teenager and at that stage of his life when his hormones were running amok. Of course, if she had, she would have severely reprimanded him as any good mother would.
So, when she found six or seven sheets of paper folded up in his pillowcase, she suspected that their contents were questionable, especially as she could see that they had unfolded and then refolded a number of times (as if he kept re-reading what was written on them).
A part of her had thought that this was none of her business. Her son would soon be old enough to leave school and this was none of her business. But she was curious to find out what these papers contained. After all, she had wanted to make sure that it was nothing to worry about.
What she found though gave her a lot to worry about.
It was a document (printed from his computer?). The heading on the first sheet was called "The Sperm Donor". Underneath, it said "by Tibvo". Funny name, she thought.
It was a story was about a son's desire to help his parents (his mother in particular) to have another child. They had been trying for a baby without success. So the boy finally decides to help by substituting his stepfather's sperm with his own resulting in his mother finally becoming pregnant.
(Author's Note: As detailed in the original "Sperm Donor").
She just could not believe what she was reading. The story itself shocked and disgusted though the most worrying thing was that the characters in the story described her family exactly, right down to the names.
My God! She thought, he must have actually written it!
Her heart, which was beating rapidly, threatened to burst out of her chest.
This can't be true, she thought tearfully, not my little baby.
Vinod had always been the apple of her eye.
She felt faint. She needed a drink.
She quickly folded up the papers and placed them back inside the pillowcase. Then she went downstairs.
Anju liberally helped herself to a glass of neat whisky. Her nerves were so shot that hands shook as she poured the drink. Greedily, she took a few large mouthfuls, almost her throat in the process. However, almost immediately she felt a heat started to radiate from deep within her body and slowly started to spread out. Within a few minutes, she felt a lot better albeit a bit light-headed.
She was worried about her boy. What would make Vinod write such a story? (She was positive that he did write it, the characters and situation matched their family's too much to be a coincidence.)
She and her husband (and Vinod's stepfather – his real father had died when he was a young boy) had been trying for a baby, for the last seven years in fact. She knew that she had trouble conceiving (it took her over five years to have Vinod), so she was not overly concerned when she did not become pregnant straight away. However, she was now getting on for forty and she felt that time was starting to run out. At the moment, they were discussing the idea of seeing their doctor about fertility treatments or even artificial insemination.
She just could not understand why Vinod would write a story like that. Oh she could have understood if he had dirty pictures hidden or that the story was about two young people having sex. But to have a story about a boy getting his mother pregnant. That was incest even though they did not have sexual intercourse (though he – the boy in the story did fantasise about it).
Oh no… surely it can't be that …. he liked her like that? But she was his mother.
Anju got up and walked into the hall where a full-length mirror was hung up. She looked at herself.
Of course she was being silly. She was an average looking Pakistani woman. Admittedly, she did keep herself presentable and her chest was a bit on the large size (and so was her bum) but she certainly did not have anything that would be of interest to a young teenager, especially her son.
She took another sip of her drink.
He didn't see her in that way did he? That would be incest. That sort of thing didn't happen, surely? Not around here?
Saying that, she had heard rumours of a scandal occurring just in the next street from her. Apparently, a neighbour who lived next door to this Turkish family started to regularly hear sounds of a couple having sex around the time the son came home from school. The neighbour couldn't understand it since as far as she was aware, the only people in the house were the boy and his mother. Then a few weeks ago, the father had came home early during one of these "sessions" and there was a blazing row. Since everything was said in Turkish, the neighbour could not understand what it was about. However, soon afterwards both the mother and son left the house carrying suitcases.
Were they having sex? Originally she had found the idea preposterous. That sort of thing never happened in middle class suburbia. She had met the woman a few times in the street. She was very attractive and not much older than she was (though she did not look it). Why would she want to sleep with her son? She could had easily found herself a lover without resorting to that.
(Author's Note: For the full story on how the Turkish mother and son got involved in incest, read "Watching").
Now she was starting to wonder. Their sons had gone to the same school. What if they had known each other? What if that boy had put ideas into her baby's head?
Anju took another sip.
She was worried about her boy. Should she talk to him? If she left it, he could most likely grow out of any infatuation he may have over her. Then again, it may not. How could she talk to him about it? What if she got it all wrong? Even if she was right, it would still prove very embarrassing.
And she could not tell his stepfather, he would go berserk.
No. this was stupid, she finally decided. There was no way that her baby could be infatuated with her. There must be some other logical explanation (though she did not have a clue what it could be).
After finishing her drink, she decided to go back up to her son's room and finish cleaning.
After vacuuming the carpet, Anju then started tidying up Vinod's desk. A thought suddenly occurred to her. Did he have any more of these stories? If he had, then what a better place to hide them than in his desk.
After a few minutes, she decided to have a look.
She found a wad of papers similar to the ones under his pillow at the bottom of the bottom drawer. Taking them out, she sat at the edge of the bed and started going through them.
Her heart sank. They were indeed more stories about incest - mother and son incest. The most disturbing about them was that in the majority of them, the mother became pregnant.
Apart from the stories, she also found a page apparently about real-life incest between a 19 year-old boy and his 42 year-old mother. Stapled to it were three pictures of a boy and woman (the son and mother?) having sexual intercourse. The pictures were very graphic and left nothing to the imagination.
Anju was could not believe her eyes. How could this woman allow her son (if it was really her son – he looked young enough to) to have sex with her. And then to let herself be PHOTOGRAPHED, knowing that the pictures would go on the Internet? Anju was disgusted. Despite herself, she did notice that both the mother and son appeared to be enjoying themselves.
Feeling flushed, Anju quickly put the papers back into the bottom door of his desk, where she had found them. She then went back downstairs.
She just did not know what to do. In the end, for the time being anyway, she decided to keep it to herself and keep an eye on him.
Vinod came home from school as normal. He was in happy spirits since they had just broken up for the Easter Break. All during the evening, Anju kept a close eye on him and quickly noticed that when he thought she wasn't looking, the boy would look at her, paying particular to her breasts, backside and legs. Anju became increasingly flustered as she became to suspect more and more that her son physically fancied her, his own mother.
Around 10 o'clock, Vinod got up and said goodnight to his parents. As Anju replied to him, she could not but notice that he carrying his book that he had been looking at most of the evening (when he was not trying to catch glances of her) against his thigh nearest to her, hiding his crotch. With a flush to her cheeks, it suddenly dawned on her that he may have had an erection.
Surely not, she thought. But her heart started beating faster at the thought her son may have become sexually aroused over her.
Disgusted with herself, she tried to turn her attention back to the television but to no avail. She wondered what Vinod was up to in his bedroom. Was he reading one of those filthy stories? Was he writing another story?
Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she got up and started for the door.
She slowly moved up the stairs, ensuring that she did not make a sound. Once at the top of the stairs, Anju crept towards her son's bedroom. Standing outside it, she placed her ear against the door and listened.
At first she could not hear anything then she became aware of springs creaking. Then she heard him muttering to himself. Her throat suddenly going dry, she pushed her ear harder against the door.
"Oh, Mum…" she heard Vinod moan.
My God! H-he's playing with himself, whilst thinking about her.
"Oh, Mum. I do (aww) I do want you."
Anju swallowed, she found she was trembling.
"Christ! Mum, if I was Dad", she realised he meant his stepfather, "I wouldn't (oooh) be wasting my time (awww) watching that boring movie."
She shouldn't be listening to this.
"I (ungh) would have you in bed with me, fucking the l-life out of you and trying to get you (huff) pregnant."
Anju suddenly felt her legs go weak.
"Oh Mum (oooh), I wish I could fuck you. I'm sure t-that you would like my prick. It is so big and stiff!"
The bedsprings were squeaking even harder, her son's voice getting louder.
"Oh shit, Mum. I'm (huff) going to cum! (oooh) I wish I could cum inside you. I-I've got s-so much spunk in my balls, I'm (unngh) sure I could make your belly fat, m-make you pregnant! (uuuuunngggggg)!"
Anju could not believe what her son was saying. Then she heard a flurry of activity from behind which suddenly stopped followed by a huge groan and realised that her son was having an orgasm.
Suddenly she could picture him, naked on his bed. His erection in his hand, ejaculating, shooting white stuff onto his naked stomach. Then she saw herself equally naked on top of him, impaled to the hilt on his erection, taking his ejaculation, his potent sperm inside her.
Nooooo! This is wrong!
Slapping a hand over her sobbing face, Anju ran to her bedroom.
“What was that!?”
Still gripping his now shrinking erection, Vinod froze. His ears straining, he listened for any more noises but he couldn’t hear anything.
“Maybe it was all in his imagination.” He thought to himself.
Finally he getting up, he put on his pyjamas and got into bed though it took him a while to fall asleep. His mind wondering whether there had been someone listening outside.
Next morning, Vinod woke early. Feeling his hormones kicking in, he automatically reached for his papers inside his pillowcase. To his horror, he could not find them.
Shaking himself awake, he gets on his knees and starts to inspect the pillow only find his papers on the bed underneath.
“But he always puts them in the pillowcase to stop his parents finding out.”
He felt sick.
Getting out of bed, he dashed over to his desk and opened the drawer containing his secret stash. Going through he found it was all there but that doesn’t mean that it hasn’t been gone through.
His heart was beating hard as he clambered back onto his bed.
“What if his mother had found them? Or worst still, his stepfather?”
No, not his stepfather. He would have clobbered him as soon as he had found out. But his mother? How would she react? What would she do if she knew that he wanted to desperately fuck her?
Disgusted? Excited even? Oh God! If only she was excited!
Maybe she would then realise that he could take care of all her sexual needs. Including giving her that baby she has been trying for all those years. He groaned as he felt himself becoming hard.
Oh fuck! He did want to make his mother pregnant. But not by artificial insemination as he had written in his story. He wanted to give her his sperm the old-fashion way. Directly from his cock into her cunt.
Even though he knew that what he was thinking is perverted, he instantly became erect.
If only he had one night with her, he would make her fat with his seed. Oh how much he wanted to take his stepfather’s place in his mother’s bed. To fuck her and keep on fucking her.
Pulling down his pyjama bottoms, he started to rub his aching erection. In his mind’s eye, he could imagine them naked with him on top of her fucking away.
“Oh! Mum!” he gasped as he stroked himself harder and harder.
He could hear her crying out. Shouting for him to fuck her harder and harder! Suddenly his cock exploded. Sperm leapt into the air as the boy moaned in orgasm. Within seconds, he was soaking with semen.
Wow! He had never cum like that before!
“If only she would let me fuck her!” he groaned to himself, frustrated.
After a few minutes, he got up and showered. Going downstairs, he found her preparing breakfast.
Despite his recent cum, he found himself hungrily looking at her body. His penis twitching in his pants.
“Morning, Mum!” he said taking his place at the breakfast table.
“Good morning!” she replied as she served him his plate of food.
Strange, why isn’t she looking at him? Not once has she looked him since he had come down.
While he ate his breakfast, she hardly said a word.
“Wash your plate. I’m going to have my bath.” She finally said, getting up.
“Okay.” the boy replied as he watched her walk out of the kitchen.
She knows! She must do. Why else act strange like this?
The idea that his mother knew that he liked reading/writing incest stories (particularly about mothers and sons) got his pulse going. His poor cock yet again started thickening and stiffening.
Getting up, he put his plate in the sink and was about to wash it when it dawned on him what she was doing.
“She’s taking a bath!”
His lust clouding his thoughts (or encouraging them), the boy realised that this was a chance he could possibly see her naked. If only he could see her naked body. He groaned at the thought. Unable to resisted, the boy wiped his hands and made his way (very quietly) up the stairs.
At the far end of the landing was the bathroom. As quietly as possible, he knelt down and peered through the keyhole. What he saw made his blood surge.
The keyhole gave him an unrestricted view of his mother’s naked body. Her back towards him, she was bending over as she was stepping into the bath. He hungrily looked her thick, compact body. Paying particular attention to her large arse and heavy boobs which were swinging under their own weight. Though he had seen naked women in magazines, as far as he was concerned, none measured up to his mother’s matured body that he was seeing now.
The mere sight caused the shaking lad to pull down his jeans and pants, freeing his aching tool. For the second time within an hour, the young boy was wanking himself off, the image of his mother’s flesh burning into his brain as he stroked himself up and down.
He watched as she soaped her body. He growled as he saw her cup each of her breasts in turn, rubbing the soap in deeply. His cock thickened further as she washed her legs, her head thrown back.
If only he was in there with her, giving her the shafting of her life. He hoped that once they had fucked, she would become as obsessed with him as he was with her.
Gasping out his lust, Vinod’s hand went into overdrive as he whipped it up and down his hard shaft. Suddenly he gave a deep throated groan as he came, his semen splashing against the door.
Still looking through the keyhole, he saw her react to his noise, her hands covering her boobs.
“Who’s there? Vinod?” she cried out.
But the boy, not caring at the moment, could only groan again, caught in the throes of his orgasm.