Who Knew?

"Okay," I said, "I'm listening."

"It was a Fourth-of-July weekend," she began, "and a group of us went to the beach on Lake Michigan. Tom and I had been seeing each other for a few months; we'd even met each other's parents. It was a wonderful, hot sunny day, and we spent a lot of time in the water just to try and stay cool. Of course, there was a lot of playful teasing going on, and Tom kept trying to feel my breasts under the water, but I mostly managed to keep him away. All in good fun."

"Andrea," I interrupted, "you don't have to. . ."

"Hush," she said. "I want you to know."

"Okay." I wasn't entirely sure that I wanted to know, but she was intent on telling me, so I let her go on.

She resumed her story. "After a while, we went back to one of the little changing huts and locked ourselves in for a bit of making out. We were sitting on the bench kissing each other passionately, with tongues and everything. Then Tom put his hand on my breast, and this time, I didn't stop him. Even when he slipped his hand under my bra, I let him; I'd never done anything like that before, but his hand just felt so good, gently caressing my bare breast. And when he untied the string and took my top off me completely, it gave me a wild feeling to have my breasts completely exposed to him like that."

"Are you sure you want to be telling me this?" I asked.

She just nodded, and held up her hand, insisting that I let her talk.

"We were kissing deeply, and he was feeling my breasts. His shoulders were so strong. . . so masculine. I ran my hands over his back and chest. I could feel myself getting wet 'down there'. But when Tom tried to feel my crotch, I wouldn't let him. I was too nervous, too shy. I wiggled and squirmed, trying to keep him away from my 'private parts'. I mean, my boobs were one thing, but no male had ever seen or touched me there since the last time my dad changed my diaper."

She took a deep breath. Inwardly, I was reeling, just a bit. It was clear that she was going to tell me the full detailed account of the sex that resulted in my coming-to-be. But she'd also made it clear that I was not to interrupt, so I let her continue.

"I suppose Tom was probably getting frustrated, but he didn't show it. He just whispered to me, 'It's OK; we'll take it easy.' I was scared. What if he didn't like the way I looked naked? What if it hurt? But I loved him, and I trusted him to take care of me. 'Come on,' he said, with a laugh, 'you show me yours, and I'll show you mine.'

"I laughed, and it made me less apprehensive. 'Okay,' I said. 'Let's both take our suits off together.'" So I pulled my bottom off, and he pulled his suit down at the same time. At first, all we did was just look at each other's 'private parts'. I had never seen an erect penis before then. It was amazing -- big and hard, and red and throbbing -- and I was both fascinated and fearful. I thought to myself, how could that big thing ever possibly fit inside me?

"Tom slid down off the bench onto the carpeted floor, and pulled me down next to him. He looked at me. 'Do you want to do this?' I wasn't sure; I didn't want to be a Bad Girl, and already, I was doing what only Bad Girls would do. But right there, at that moment, I didn't care. I just wanted to give myself to him completely, to receive him and be joined to him. I nodded. I had no idea what it would feel like, but now was the time." She looked at me. "Are you OK?"

I nodded, still in a mild state of shock that she felt so compelled to tell me the story on this level of detail.

"Tom had me roll onto my back, and he got on top of me. I'm sure he'd done it before, but he was fumbling around, trying to find my opening with his erection. I finally felt the head of his penis start poking into me, and it just took my breath away! As he slowly pushed further into me, I was wriggling my hips, trying to get more of him inside me. Nothing had ever felt that good in my whole life -- he was filling me up with his thick, wonderful pole, and I wanted all of it.

"For just an instant, I felt his hardness pushing against my hymen, but then it gave way; it was a quick, sharp pain, but then he was all the way inside me, and I forgot all about it. My god, I just felt so full, like his penis was filling up my whole body. When he started to thrust in and out of me, my instincts took over, and I started to thrust back against him. Oh, god -- that rhythmic fucking felt so good! Sensations were radiating out from my vagina through my whole body."

I smiled when she said, 'fucking'; it was the first 'nasty' word I'd heard from her mouth.

"Tom was grunting with every thrust, and then he pushed into me hard, one last time, and held it there, in the deepest part of me. I felt a bubble of wet warmth burst inside me, and begin to flow all through my womb. It was so incredible; he was leaving his own -- what should I call it, his bodily essence? -- inside me, and I treasured it, to have my beloved Tom's bodily fluid held within myself. Even after he got soft and slipped out of me, I was smiling to myself that I still had Tom inside me. And," she said, looking straight into my eyes, "that bit of Tom inside me brought you into being.

"We made love again later that night, and again the next day. All told, we didn't have sex that many times -- ten or twelve, at the most, over the next month or so. When I missed my period, I got scared. My mom finally got suspicious and took me to the doctor, who confirmed that I was pregnant. After that, life got difficult in a hurry."

She exhaled heavily before continuing. "My dad was pissed. At me, at Tom, at the world. We were supposed to be a Good Family, but back in those days, girls from Good Families didn't get pregnant out-of-wedlock. So he was pissed about that, too. Eventually, he sent me to a Home for Unwed Mothers in another town, where our friends didn't have to see me in my shameful condition.

"Tom just freaked out. 'I can't marry you!' he said. 'I've got to finish college!' And that was just the final insult."

Andrea was weeping softly now, as she spoke. "When you were born, I knew it was going to be OK," she said, "but I couldn't see how. They wouldn't even let me hold you; I had to sneak down to the nursery just to get a look at you through the glass. I wanted so bad just to hold you, to count your fingers and toes, to satisfy myself that you were going to OK, but looking through the glass was all I got.

"I was sure I had enough love to raise you," she said, "but I had nothing else. My parents didn't want a new baby in the house, and I understood that -- my brother, your uncle, was a teenager, and they were looking forward to their empty nest in a few years, not raising another baby. It was the hardest thing I ever did, giving you up for adoption, but I was sure that it was the right thing, and the best thing for you. Can you understand that?"

"Of course I can," I replied, softly. "You gave me a family, and a home, that you couldn't come close to providing yourself. And even more than that, you gave me life in the first place. I have never had anything but gratitude for what you've done for me, and I will always be grateful to you. Does that make sense?"

She nodded, then continued. "After you were born, it took me a long time to get my life back together. I went back to school, but I had wanted to be a teacher, and I just couldn't bear the thought of standing in front of a classroom full of kids someday, wondering if one of them was you."

"You never married?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "I never did. I'm not sure why. Maybe I was just too scared to trust a guy again. Maybe the idea of having another child was too painful. I don't know. I've had some friends-with-benefits over the years, and one or two of them might have liked to marry me, but somehow, I could never bring myself to ever let things get that far."

She came and sat next to me on the couch, wrapping me in a tight, warm hug. "Anyway, here we are. Thank you for finding me," she said. "And thank you for understanding." She smiled. "I've only ever seen you in person for a few hours, but already, you're a son I can be proud of."

*****

I spent four full days at Andrea's house, while she showed me around the sights of Oregon. The area where she lived was rich in natural beauty, and I was drinking it all in, as Andrea and I just talked as we went from one stunning vista to the next, letting each other in on our lives, and jump-starting our relationship, to make up for the decades together that we'd missed. She took to holding hands with me as we walked, which at first seemed a little weird, but at the same time, very natural and comfortable.

I began to notice that Andrea and I had a similar kind of 'resonance' with each other, to what Janet and I had, that had helped bond us to each other back when we'd first met. Andrea just seemed to 'get' me, on some basic, intrinsic level. It was uncanny, and really cool.

By the last evening, we were both in a melancholy mood, knowing that I was returning home the next day, even though I was certainly looking forward to seeing Janet and the kids again. We sat in the living room again, sipping glasses of wine and gazing pensively at the stunning mountain vista. For a long time, we didn't talk, simply cherishing each other's company, and watching the shadows on the mountains as the sun set behind us.

Finally, Andrea spoke. "Kevin?"

"Yes, Andrea."

"Hold me. Please?"

"Sure," I said, and took her in my arms. Her body nestled comfortably against mine, her maternal warmth radiating against my side.

After another long silence, she spoke again. "I. . . back when you were born, I never even got to hold you."

"Well, now you can hold me to your heart's content. . . Mother."

She gasped at the deep acceptance implied in my response, which I had said with all deliberate intention.

"M. . . Mother? You called me 'Mother'. . ."

"Well. . . you are, aren't you?"

"I don't know. . . I gave birth to you, but I didn't raise you. . ."

"In my book, that counts."

We turned to each other, and held each other tightly for a long time. "I don't ever want to lose you again," she sobbed.

"I promise, you won't."

We held and cherished each other for a long time in silence before Andrea spoke again.

"Could you. . . I wonder if. . . shit, this is just too weird. . ."

"What is it, Andrea?"

"Well. . ." she hesitated. "If I'm crazy enough to ask you this, will you just tell me yes or no, without thinking I'm some kind of pervert?"

I leaned back, looking askance at her. Then I smiled. "Andrea, in these last few days, I've cherished meeting you, and getting to know you. And I've come to love you, and the connection we have to each other. You couldn't possibly offend me; ask me whatever you want."

"I. . ." she exhaled heavily; "I always wished that I could have taken inventory of your body -- count your fingers and toes, check out the shape of your body. . . Would it be totally weird and perverted if I wanted to see you naked? Even though you're not a little baby any more?"

I smiled. It was an odd request, to be sure. But deep inside, there was a definite part of me that wanted to open myself to Andrea like that. In fact. . .

"Well, Andrea," I began, "is it totally weird and perverted if I say that I'd like to see you naked, too? You know, I look at my kids, and I'm just fascinated to see what traits they've gotten from me; and I've always wondered where those traits came from -- how they got to me, so to speak."

Andrea laughed. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours?"

I laughed, a full hearty laugh. "Well, I didn't exactly mean it like that. But. . . yeah, okay, if you want to put it that way."

Without another word, both Andrea and I stood, and slowly and deliberately stripped our clothes off. When we were both naked, we faced each other, gazing in rapt curiosity at each other's nakedness. For a woman in her late 40s, I had to admit, Andrea still had a really hot body. Her breasts were still firm and full, sagging only slightly. Her belly was flat, and her legs were taut and shapely. She turned slowly around, and I saw the smooth, round cheeks of her butt. When she faced me again, I noticed the thick bush of curly, strawberry-blond pubic hair adorning her pussy, and I was momentarily fixated on it.

"You like my pussy?" she asked, in a tone that sounded almost surprised.

"Sorry," I chuckled. "I was just thinking that that's where I came into the world."

She laughed loudly. "Yes, you did! Although I never thought of it that way. You want a closer look?"

"Mmmmmm. . . uh, maybe later. . . Now, what would you like to see of me?"

She approached me, taking hold of my hands. "One, two, three, four, five. . ." she counted the fingers on my right hand, then, "six, seven, eight, nine, ten!" on my left. "Yep, they're all here!" Then she counted my toes, pronouncing the set likewise complete.

Slowly, she walked around me, thoroughly, deliberately inspecting each feature of my body. "Nice, solid tight shoulders," she said. "Broad back; that's good. Tight, firm ass," she chuckled. "Is it too weird to have your mother talking about your ass?"

"A little," I chuckled. "I just remind myself that we're getting to this 29 years too late."

"I'm glad that you 'get' that."

Once she'd completed her thorough walk-around inspection, she sat on the couch, near one end, indicating that I should take a place next to her. Pulling me by the neck, she brought me down so my head was nestled in her lap, while she stroked my hair. "I wish I could have done this when you were little," she whispered. Then, leaning forward, she lifted my head and pressed it to her breast, tacitly urging me to suckle it.

I should probably have realized just how crazy and perverted this was all becoming, but somehow, it just wasn't. I mean, lots of guys have sucked their mother's tits; just not when they were 29. Somehow, though, Andrea and I were working our way through all of the 'developmental stages', at an accelerated rate. She wanted me to suck her tits, which I couldn't do when I was little. So I purred happily as I savored the taste of her skin, stretched across the surface of her abundant, fleshy globes. When she was satisfied with how I'd sucked one breast, she switched me to the other one.

But of course, I wasn't a little baby any more, and the effect wasn't quite the same. At least, not for long. I felt her nipple growing and stiffening in my mouth, and soon she was happily purring herself, at the sensations my mouth and tongue were producing in her. I began to notice the musky aroma of arousal emanating from her pussy, just inches from my face. And my penis was starting to stiffen.

Eventually, Andrea noticed my growing erection. She giggled as she reached out to take hold of it. At the sensation of her touch, I was instantly, throbbingly hard. "I guess you're not a baby any more, are you?"

"Evidently not."

Andrea slid herself out from under me, and got up off the couch, maintaining her grip on my cock the whole time. She knelt on the floor in front of me, leaned forward, and took my pulsating erection into her mouth. My head spun as she licked and sucked my engorged manhood, her tongue swirling skillfully around my cockhead. I knew that she hadn't been celibate ever since my birth, but she had obviously developed some serious skill in the art of cock-sucking. It wasn't long before I could feel my balls beginning to swell, getting ready to explode.

"Andrea," I groaned, "if you keep this up, I'm gonna come. . ."

She quickly pulled her mouth off my cock. "Not just yet, my son. First, let's give you a tour of your first room."

She stood, lifting me off the couch in the process. My stiff cock stood straight out in front of me.

Andrea sat on the couch, her legs spread wide. Her labia were puffy and engorged. The pink petals of her inner cunt-lips were protruding, opening in a sultry 'welcome-home' gesture for the sole-ever occupant of her womb. I knelt between her legs, savoring the full, rich scent of her arousal. For a second, I smiled as I gazed in awe at the gateway to my mother's womb, realizing that I'd been here before, on my way out.

I leaned forward, draping Andrea's legs over my shoulders as I began slowly dragging my tongue along her slit, savoring the thick, aromatic nectar that oozed from within her. I licked along the length of her labia, then probed tentatively between her pussy-lips, into her sultry-hot opening, which drew a long, low groan from her. Soon, she was squirming and writhing at the sensations of my tongue plundering her depths. At last, I found her clit, and tenderly sucked on the soft flesh surrounding it, running my tongue gently across her hard little nubbin. When I began licking with broad, ice-cream strokes across her clit, she exploded spontaneously in orgasm.

"Oh god, Kevin!" she shrieked. "You're making me come. Oh, baby, I'm coming! Oh GGGOOOooooddddd!"

I suppose I might have left matters there, but Janet had trained me, years before, not to settle for eating her to a single orgasm, so I just kept on licking Andrea's pussy, and she kept on coming and coming, in a more-or-less continuous stream of orgasms, until finally she pushed me away.

"OK, baby!" she cried. "I want you back inside me! You started out inside me. Now just once, I want you back inside. . ."

At that instant, there was nothing I wanted more. There was no thought that I was fucking my mother, only that I was returning to where my life had begun.

Andrea raised and spread her legs, until her knees were virtually in her armpits. I hooked my elbows under her knees and positioned my flaring cockhead against her entrance. Then, with an insistent grunt, I penetrated her.

"Welcome home, My Son," she groaned.

In a single thrust, I was in her balls-deep, up to the hilt. My cock throbbed inside her, reaching, probing for her deepest inner regions, straining for her core. I began to slowly move in and out of her, savoring every inch of the smooth, warm, lubricated friction as my rod slid sensually along her snug vaginal walls. Andrea groaned erotically as she clenched her cunt-muscles tightly on my shaft.

"Oh god, Kevin," she moaned. "Fuck me. Fuck me deep. Make your mother come."

Her words triggered some instinct at the base of my brain; I just wanted to please her, to make her happy. And so, I began to slowly drive in and out of her, grunting with every straining, probing stroke of my cock into her deepest depths, and soon she was wailing and moaning wildly, her head rolling from side-to-side as one more intense orgasm tore through her.

"Oh god," she cried. "I'm coming, baby. Come with me. Shoot into me. Oh, baby, I want you back inside me. Fill me with your cum. Come for me, baby!"

How could I deny my own mother? I released myself to my orgasm, and sent rivers of my thick, warm cum surging into her. For several minutes, even after my balls were thoroughly empty, I continued thrusting in and out of her, just wanting to hang onto the sensations of being inside her, until at last my cock went limp and slipped out of her.

We held each other tightly for a long time afterward. A whole complex of emotions swirled inside me -- of deep connection to this woman, of intense love for her. Somewhere in the back of my consciousness, I knew that a married man isn't supposed to be fucking his mother, and the oedipal component of it was impossible to miss. But somehow, this was different. This wasn't about fucking my mother, so much as it was about unfinished business, of re-establishing the deep bond and connection between us that had been lost when she surrendered me.

"That was wonderful," Andrea said, as we finally parted. "Thank you, Kevin."

"Thanks yourself. It was pretty wonderful from my end, too."