An Accident, The Internet, A Hotel Ch. 02byjtmalone70©
That first evening home with my husband Ryan was disconcerting, after spending the weekend with my son Mark, locked away in a hotel room. A struggle was taking place within my mind, racked with guilt for having not only slept with another man, but with my own son - our son, no less. When my husband and I had sex that Sunday night, I couldn't help but think of it as a form of penance, making up for the sin I had committed. But even though I knew I should feel more regret, a deeper sense of betrayal and guilt, as strange as it may seem, I didn't. The truth is, not only did I enjoy having sex with my son, but I also felt a greater bond with him, as a result. But I also felt no less love or devotion for Ryan. This is how I excused my actions, and the more often I repeated it, the more I came to believe it.
When Ryan was on top of me that night, I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms and legs around him, smiling as his wonderful cock filled me. My body was sore and tired, but I needed this. I needed him to take me; to remind me of what I had here at home and why I loved him so very much. And therein laid my problem: I was also sharing my body with another man, my son, but part of me felt as though there should be more guilt. And when there wasn't, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. I loved Mark, as much as his father, and I wanted to share my body with him, as well. That's the only reason I could think of for this lack of remorse and shame.
Monday morning, after Ryan had left for work, I stood in the shower staring down at the floor, my hands behind my back and the water spraying against me, running down over my neck and shoulders and cascading over my breasts. I tried to make myself feel guilty. I kept asking myself, how could I be doing this with him? How could I have so willingly taken my son's seed into my body, the body that gave birth to him? I closed my eyes and very soon a hand drifted between my legs, as my mind meandered back to that Friday night. I was on my hands and knees, when Mark came from behind and quietly slipped his cock into me. And the cause of my utter shock wasn't simply in knowing my son was fucking me, but also in that I found myself enjoying it. I remembered how I rocked back against him, begging him to fuck me harder and empty himself in my body. And I remember how wonderful it felt; the intense tingling between my legs and throbbing inside my vagina, as his beautiful cock exploded within. A wonderful euphoria filled my mind, as Mark took me.
When I finally stepped out of the shower, I quickly dried myself and walked to the bedroom and gazed at the bed, the bed I shared with my husband. Not here, I thought. So I turned and dashed upstairs to Mark's room. I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, locking it. Then I slowly walked over to his bed and dropped the towel from around my body and lay down. I pulled his pillow under my head and closed my eyes, bending my knees upward and out. And for the next half hour, I masturbated thinking of my new lover.
For the remainder of the day, I fought a losing battle. Every now and then, my mind would run out of control with thoughts of him, and I'd hurry to his room to relieve myself, quickly shedding myself of those lurid thoughts. But the more I did this, the more I wanted him; the more my mind wandered to thoughts of our weekend together and the anticipation of being with him once again.
For the next two days, I didn't get online. I was too afraid to talk to him. Thoughts of Mark were taking over, and I felt as though I couldn't get anything done, as a result. I didn't need or want to exacerbate the problem by talking to him. But I was like an addict, hooked on a drug that I once thought I could control, but which was now controlling me. I thought I could keep a handle on my desires; that I could control myself and keep them in check. And when I finally convinced myself I could, the phone rang.
"It's for you."
I was in the kitchen washing dishes, having just finished dinner with my husband and daughter, when Ryan called to me. I wiped my hands on a dishtowel and walked out to the living room. Ryan was sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper and holding the phone up in one hand. As I stepped around the couch, he looked up at me and I quietly asked whom it was. He smiled, replying it was Mark. I felt the blood suddenly rush from my face and pool in my feet.
"I'll, uh… take it in my study," I said.
Ryan grinned and nodded.
A minute later, I picked up the phone on my desk and, covering the mouthpiece, called out to the living room, letting him know I had it. I held the phone to my ear and heard a click, as Ryan hung up. My heart was pounding and I cleared my throat.
"You there?" he said.
"Yeah," I squeaked softly. "Right here."
There was a brief pause and he asked how I was. I glanced at my door and walked over, stretching the cord far, and gently used my foot to shut it.
"Um… fine. I'm fine. How're you?"
Mark chuckled. "I'm alright. You don't sound fine," he replied. "Haven't seen ya online. Just wondered if you were ok."
"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine. I'm ok. How're you doing?"
He laughed again. "Said I'm fine, ok?"
There was another pause, and then we both went to speak at the same time.
"Sorry, you go 'head," I said timidly.
"Nah, go on," he replied.
I smiled, turning to sit in my chair, and held the phone close to my ear with both hands.
"I'm ok," I whispered.
We were both silent for a moment, and then Mark spoke.
"I miss you," he said softly.
I closed my eyes and gripped the phone tightly, wrapping the cord around my hand, as my heart began throbbing again. Then I sighed into the phone.
"You… are you mad?" he asked.
I smiled. "No," I said. "Not at all… I miss you, too."
Then I heard Mark breathing, the same sound I heard when he was on top of me not four days ago; the sound I came to cherish and desire. I bent over in my chair, breathing hard on my own.
"I really wanna see you again," he mumbled almost seductively.
I sucked in deeply through my nose and sighed.
"God, I wanna see you, too," I whispered.
We were both quiet and breathing hard, and, though separated by many miles, our hormones boiled to a fever pitch at just the sound of each other's voice.
"Fuck," he sighed. "I'm so hard for you right now."
I put a hand between my legs and closed my knees tightly, breathing heavily.
"… wish you were here," he mumbled softly.
I pressed a finger against my vagina and moaned.
"… you want me?" he asked.
My jaw hung open, as I envisioned him sitting in his chair at his desk, stroking his long hard cock for me; visions of my body dancing through his mind; visions of him fucking me.
"… yeah…" I stuttered.
"God, I'd love to slide my cock into you… cum inside that sexy body…"
"… Oh yeah," I sighed, scraping a finger between my legs against the fabric of my shorts, sending a gentle vibration to my vagina buried below.
"When can I see you again?" he whispered.
"… God, I want you so bad…"
"… fuck… I want you right now…"
Suddenly there was a knock on my door. I shot upright, shaking nervously, as my door slowly opened. It was my daughter Rachel.
"Hey, where's this go?" she asked, holding up a colander.
I hastily held out my hand, pointing toward the kitchen, replying, "Oh, uh… just in the kitchen anywhere. I'll get it later. That's ok." Rachel stood there staring at me. "Well," she said. "Ok. But in the meantime, where's it go? I'll put it away." I sighed and heard Mark chuckle. I covered the mouthpiece of the phone and told her to put it in a cabinet above the sink. "Okey dokey," she replied and walked away.
"Hey!" I called.
Rachel poked her head around the corner.
"Wanna shut my door, please?"
As she leaned in to close it, she sarcastically replied, "Oh… Well, don't let me interrupt you and your secret boyfriend." Then she laughed. I quietly whimpered, saying it was her brother on the phone. "Eew," she said with a disgusted look, as she swung the door closed.
I took a deep breath and turned back to the phone.
"Sorry," I said.
Mark chuckled once again. "Who was that?" he asked.
We were quiet for a moment, having been brought back to the reality of our illicit affair, and then Mark asked when I would be coming to see him again. I quickly glanced over my shoulder at the door, and then turned to face away from it, bending over and speaking softly.
"I dunno," I said. "Um… Boy, I dunno."
"What about this weekend?"
I closed my eyes and tried to think. Did we have anything going on then? I pursed my lips, replying, "I dunno… Dunno if we're doing anything."
"Well," he said. "If you don't know, then you're not doing anything. That means you're free, right?"
God, I really wanted to see him again, but this soon? I usually only went to see him once a month. Twice was rare.
"It's kinda soon, don't ya think?" I said, more of a question than a statement of fact.
He seemed to think about it for a moment. "Maybe not," he replied. "Maybe we can come up with an excuse." But then he quickly caught himself. "A reason," he said.
An excuse. I didn't like the sound of that. It seemed to carry a certain implication.
"Maybe I…" But then I hesitated, trying to think of something. "Is there anything going on there? Like a play or something? Something like that you could take me to?"
Mark laughed. "You want me to take you on a date?"
I giggled nervously. "Yeah," I whispered softly. "You can do that, if ya want. I'd like that."
"You gonna wear something sexy and revealing?"
I smiled. "You want me to?"
"Sure," he said. Then as an afterthought added, "How 'bout no panties?"
I bit my lip and snickered, saying, "God, you're awful."
"And you're a sexy redheaded babe," he sneered.
But before we could get too worked up again, I sat upright and told him I'd drive there Friday evening and plan to spend the night. I also reminded him that he had to come up with a reason for me to visit, and that he'd have to let me know what it was within the next day or two. Then he asked if I wanted to get a hotel room, and just the thought of being alone with him again sent a shiver up my spine.
"Yeah," I whispered.
He was quiet and softly said he couldn't wait to see me again. I closed my eyes and moaned into the phone.
"I love you," he whispered, just before hanging up.
My body slowly rocked back and forth in the chair, as I sat thinking of us together.
"I love you, too," I said.
There was a click, as he hung up, but I sat there for a moment, possibly longer, still in a trance. When I opened my eyes, I set the phone on my desk and stood from the chair. I slowly walked out of my study, through the kitchen and past Rachel, and into the living room. Ryan was still sitting on the couch reading the newspaper. As I stood next to him, he turned his head and looked up at me.
"So how's Mark?" he asked.
"Fine," I said.
Then he turned back to the paper. "Eh, that's good."
As he continued reading, I looked down at him, and then back over my shoulder into the kitchen where Rachel was still busy cleaning. Then I leaned down and whispered in Ryan's ear. He stared straight ahead, and then turned to me.
"Now?" he said with a bewildered expression.
I grinned and nodded.
He glanced over his shoulder, but I whispered she was still in the kitchen. Then I nudged my head toward our bedroom and smiled again.
"C'mon," I said.
With a surprised look on his face, he hesitated a moment, but then closed the newspaper and stood from the couch. I took his hand in mine and quietly led him back to our room.
Inside, he shut the door, as I quickly walked over to the side of the bed.
"So what's gotten into you all of a sudden?" he asked, coming up behind me.
I unzipped my jeans and pushed them down, along with my panties, and got up on the bed, leaning over on my hands and knees. I peered over my shoulder and smiled.
"Just need you to fuck me, I guess."
Ryan stepped up behind me, replying with a light chuckle, "I guess so." Then I heard him lower the zipper of his jeans.
A moment later, I felt the tip of his cock slithering around, trying to find my entrance. And when it did, he slipped easily into me and we both groaned. Only then did it dawn on me that he might be wondering why I was aroused, after getting off the phone so soon with our son. But as our bodies bounced together, his hands gripping my hips tightly, I decided in that moment it didn't matter. I didn't care if he wondered. And very soon thereafter, he pulled on me hard, burying his cock deep inside my body, and I felt that amazing ripple, as he ejaculated.
On the surface, I convinced myself that doing this with Ryan was merely a way to express my love for him; no different than any other time we had sex. But what I ignored was my true motive: that talking to my son had sexually aroused me and Ryan's cock was a suitable surrogate.
The following day, Mark met me online. Yes, there was a play showing at his school Friday evening, in fact all weekend. I told him to purchase two tickets and that I'd pick him up at his resident hall by 6pm so we could go out for dinner beforehand. He asked what I'd be wearing and I replied he'd have to wait and see. Then he asked if I wanted to have some fun with him online, while he had time before class. I was awfully tempted, but declined.
"Aw, man," he whined. "C'mon! Just for a few minutes? Please?"
I laughed and said no. I told him I didn't even want him to be masturbating, when I wasn't around.
"Why?" he asked, with an air of incredulity.
"Because it's MINE!" I replied, laughing as I typed.
So he grudgingly departed early for class with the promise he wouldn't touch himself.
The following evening, I casually mentioned during dinner that Mark wanted to take me to a play Friday night. As Ryan ate, I looked to him to gauge a reaction. He chewed and slowly nodded and finally replied, "Sounds like fun." My heart soared, and I leaned over, giving him a hug. He chuckled, saying, "In that case, maybe he oughta take you out more often, if that's gonna be your reaction." I snickered, but in the dark recesses of my mind, the gears started turning.
That night, just before going to bed, I called Mark on my cell phone from my study.
"Hey," I whispered.
"Hey, was just gettin' ready to hit the sack."
I giggled, replying, "Mm, sounds like fun. Think I might have to join you… Friday night."
"Really?" he said excitedly. "You can come?"
I giggled again. "That sorta depends on you, sexy boy."
Mark growled into the phone and I laughed, as I walked over and peered out the door down the darkened hallway. Ryan had already gone to bed and Rachel was in her room. The house was dark and quiet. Then I carefully closed the door and walked over to my chair. As I sat down, I opened my robe, pushing a hand down the front of my panties.
"So," I whispered. "Got a few minutes to spare?"
The next day was Friday and the hands on the clock couldn't turn fast enough. I frantically rushed around, getting my overnight bag ready, trying to remember one thing or the next. Rachel came home from school a short time after three o'clock. I tried to remain calm, as best I could, so as not to draw any unnecessary suspicion. I kept myself busy, trying not to stare at the clock, doing one odd job after the next. But by four-thirty, I couldn't take it any longer and retrieved my bag from the bedroom. As I slipped on my coat, I went to Rachel's room and told her I was leaving.
"Already?" she asked. Then she looked at her clock. "It's not even five o'clock yet."
"I know," I said, buttoning my jacket. "Just wanna make sure we can go to dinner before the play."
Then Rachel slumped back in her chair. "Wish I could go," she mumbled. I sighed and stepped into her room.
"I know, sweetie," I said. "Maybe next time, ok?"
She slowly nodded, but still looked saddened. I smiled and rubbed her shoulder. Rachel was eighteen and enjoyed being able to go out with her brother and I to the bars, even if she couldn't drink – something he and I rarely indulged in, as it was, neither of us caring much for alcohol. She was a young woman and anxious to start college the following fall.
I gave her a quick hug and kiss, and then went down to get my bag and headed out to the car.
As I drove to Mark's school, I suddenly started having second thoughts about this. About all of it. About him and I. About having sex with him. Even flirting with him over the phone and online. I guess it's fair to say I was being selfish. Yes, I told myself, I was doing this because I loved him. Perhaps much more intimately than how a mother should, but it wasn't like I was in love with him. I didn't love him romantically. He was still my son, regardless of how sexually intimate we had become. He had a serious girlfriend and I was very much married and in love with my husband. But I also loved my son. Only now I loved him physically, as well as emotionally. I knew in the back of my mind that was a paltry excuse for what we were doing. We were having sex because it felt good; because we were sexually attracted to each other. I asked myself how that was any different, than if I was having an affair with another man?
"Because he's not just another man," I muttered, as I drove. "He's my son and I love him."
And I truly believed that. I truly loved my husband, as well as my son, with all my heart and more. But now I was expressing that love for Mark sexually, the same as with Ryan. Now and again, that ugly word, incest, crept into my mind, but I shoved it away quickly. To me, it carried so many negative connotations, none of which applied to Mark and I. Neither of us felt forced to be doing this. We both wanted it. We enjoyed it; enjoyed the physical intimacy, as well as the stronger emotional bond that had grown between us. His girlfriend was amazingly beautiful. He didn't need sex from me. In fact, I knew they were having sex on a regular basis, because he told me as much. And when I thought of this, the ends of my lips curled up into a wry grin. I knew, because he told me, as he was fucking me.
As I pulled in front of Mark's building, he was standing on the sidewalk waiting, his hands in his pockets and a bag slung over his shoulder. I came to a stop next to him and, as he walked to the car, began breathing rapidly and gripped the steering wheel nervously. Then he stepped inside.
"Got here early," he said with a huff, bringing the seatbelt across his chest. Then he looked at me and I smiled from behind my sunglasses. "Get a room yet?" he asked. I put the car in gear and slowly pulled away, shaking my head. "Not yet."
Ten minutes later, Mark and I were walking down the hall of a hotel toward our room. With every step, my blood pumped harder and my nerves became more heightened. I don't know why I felt so on edge, but it felt good all the same.
No key this time for the room; only a swipe card. I ran it through the doorknob and heard a soft thump, as the latch opened. With Mark standing close to me, I opened the door and stepped inside. No sooner had I stopped in front of the bed, than he was directly behind me, his body close to mine. As I carefully unbuttoned my jacket, I turned my head slightly and asked, almost in a shy voice, what he was doing. "This," he replied softly, placing his hands against my ass and squeezing gently. I closed my eyes and smiled, but stepped away with my bag. I removed my jacket, tossing it on the small table in the room, and grinned.
"I'll be right back," I said, carrying my bag with me to the bathroom.