Blur

All she knew was that it was all a complete blur in her mind.

She knew a little more than eighteen years ago she'd had a son. She'd given birth to a huge, healthy boy, and they'd brought him to her in the hospital, fresh and scrubbed and the most beautiful, delicious-smelling thing she'd ever known. He'd been crying as they wheeled him into her room from within the little transparent perambulator, and the sound had pierced her heart with its impossible beauty.

She'd taken him from the nurse's arms and cradled him to her breasts. It shocked her how immediately he somehow found where to latch his tiny mouth, and he lay quiet against her, feeding and content. The sensation of breastfeeding was unlike any other she'd experienced before. Something so very right... It made her feel warm inside, it felt like a gentle tugging and she felt it everywhere in her body, and it had the sensation one experienced when taking a good tranquilizer. She felt sleepy and relaxed. She wanted to tell the nurse how she felt but she was scared the woman would confuse her feelings with sexual gratification; so she said nothing, just sat in awed, blissful silence, stroking his surprisingly full head of hair and urging him to drink and taking little kisses at the top of his head, the hair so soft and fine it made her want to cry.

My baby, she whispered over and over. I'm going to be a good mother to you.

And only two weeks later, he'd been taken away from her.

The parts of her life with his father she realized somehow she'd naturally and effectively blocked from her mind. It was just a blur. Another woman was involved, she remembered... But she couldn't remember the exact words of the conversation....

"Leaving the country... I want my son with me... You'll never see him again, bitch...."

Somehow she'd lived her life. She had a decent job. Decent schooling. A little house in the suburbs on a somewhat lonely road where somehow progress still hadn't filled in the numerous fields around her small neighborhood.

But her life had been plagued by dreams. In those dreams she could still smell her infant. Could still taste his skin from the soft kisses planted on his miniature face. In dreams, she chased him forever. Please, she screamed. Give me back my baby.

Please. Give him back.

***

All she knew at that moment was she was trying to disguise her hands from shaking at the wheel. It had all gone too fast.

She still could see those strange words in front of her face from the letter she'd received.

"Your son is 18 now and he wants to meet you. He wants to stay with you for a while. His flight leaves at..."

He'd held up a sign for her with her name in the airport. She saw before her an eighteen year-old boy in jeans and a t-shirt. He was at least six feet tall and towered over her. His hair was somewhat wavy and he wore it longer at his ears and neck. His body was lanky with a hint of muscle definition. He was a little bow legged. And his face...

She couldn't help thinking in her mind that she thought she understood how people felt when they set eyes on Michelangelo's David for the first time.

Simply, all that needed to be said was he was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen in her life.

She could smell him in the car. He smelled so delicious again somehow, but this time it was different. He wore perhaps a dab of cologne. He was a little sweaty from perhaps being in her state, which was well known for its merciless heat. People needed time to get acclimated to the climate. The scent was somehow extremely pleasant to her.

But it soon became apparent he didn't want to be there at all. She could read his body language. He was angry and sullen and withdrawn.

Oh God, she thought in her head. How will I ever manage this. How to explain... She'd written letters over the years. She'd begged. She'd never been allowed to see him again.

She told herself just to get through the drive home. The little attempts at conversation she was making were failing miserably. At one point he'd turned his head to her, and their eyes locked. Anger and coldness flashed within the depths of his eyes.

He hates me, she thought.

She was trying to ignore the reactions in her body when he'd looked into her eyes. A thought had flown into her mind. How could something so beautiful and perfect and handsome have come from me...

She felt guilty. Extremely guilty. Extremely sick in the head. When he'd met her stare, she'd felt everything inside her opening... There was a strange pressure in her stomach. Her body tingled.

She realized, Oh my God. I'm sexually attracted to my own son. What in God's name is wrong with me...

At her house, before she was able to turn off the car, he'd opened the door and was walking swiftly up to her door, a single duffel bag of clothes and a few things slung over his shoulder. He hadn't brought much. I need to wash his clothes, she thought anxiously. She was terrified to ask him. Terrified he'd read her feelings on her face and detest her even more.

***

The days passed. He stayed in the guest room and rarely came out. He'd bought a game system for himself. She was pretty sure he spent all day and night playing games and texting his friends on his phone. When he would emerge for meals, and only for meals, the atmosphere was strained and uncomfortable.

Mainly because whenever he was in the same room with her, she felt electrified. Giddy. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. She'd steal glances at him, or a single part of him. His hands, his worn, faded t-shirt collar where a smooth pale collarbone peeked out... A single lock of his beautiful, wavy hair.

Once she'd turned to look at him as he'd walked away. She found herself hypnotized by the shape of his back, the way its broadness tapered off to a slim waist, and she found her eyes traveling lower to stare at his rear in his loose jeans...

What am I doing, she thought. Suddenly with everything in her being she thought to herself, I'm going to make it up to you. Though it's too late, I'm going to be a good mother to you.

I love you. I love you, my sweet little baby.

***

The night following she lugged a basket of freshly laundered clothes to his room. She'd bought him a few more t-shirts in different colors, red and black and dark green. She wanted to buy more but she didn't know his size and she was afraid of making mistakes with him.

She reached to open his door. He slept with two fans moved into his room since it was still hot to him. He hadn't heard her open the door.

What she saw almost made her drop her basket of clothes.

It was only obvious what he was doing. Her eyes had already grown accustomed to the dim light.

She saw his naked form on the bed. She watched the sinuous movements of his right hand. She couldn't stop staring at his face as he satisfied himself. His eyes were closed tight in pleasure, he had bitten down softly on his lower lip. She could hear his panting despite the whirring of the fans.

Leave. Now. She thought. Leave his room.

She couldn't.

She watched in fascination as his hand worked more rapidly. Suddenly he groaned loudly and pale wetness seemed to burst from him and land in little shimmering drops on his stomach.

And she felt like her body was on fire.

Some moments later, her bedroom door locked tight, she searched frantically on her phone. She tried not to think about the keywords she was entering. Young was one of them. She scrolled breathlessly through thumbnails. She saw a head of dark wavy male hair, and clicked.

The videos of that nature always seemed familiar to her. They were like a dance. Certain steps were always involved, certain shots and angles... She forwarded to the end, she needed the ending. She'd entered a keyword she knew that would result in what she needed to see. She needed to see the actor ejaculate inside the woman. Her fingers fumbled in the darkness. She kept watching the video. She felt like she was screaming inside her mind, Yes please please give her that dick... Her hands touched her body. It lasted maybe five seconds, but it felt like a giant hand had reached inside her and pulled out her insides, like how someone would turn a sock inside out. Her body quaked so hard her back lifted from the sheets as wave after wave of intense orgasmic ecstasy rippled through her. Her toes curled painfully into the mattress. She shifted and felt wetness beneath her.

Seconds later in the silence, she cried herself to sleep in shame and loathing.

***

How had he come in... That's all she could think of the following morning as he stood inside her bathroom while she was blindly trying to grab a towel from the rack and shield her nakedness. She could have sworn she'd locked the door.

"You should have knocked," she told him, and the irony of the statement didn't escape her. She felt herself burning pink from humiliation.

"You should learn to lock a door," he said sarcastically.

Touche, my darling, she thought in her mind.

She was now standing in front of her full length mirror in just the towel still. He'd stormed off in a fury.

How will I survive the next two weeks, she thought. I can't deny it anymore. I want my own son. I have sexual desire for my own child. He has to leave as soon as possible...

Some horrible words had been exchanged the day before. She only remembered bits and pieces.

Well, you weren't even there for me, he'd said. I don't even know you. I was just a kid. Things she couldn't possibly argue against.

Hot tears slid down her cheeks. Please God help me, she thought.

At that moment she heard him enter the room.

He was behind her suddenly. She stared at his face in the reflection.

She wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but suddenly, she could feel him pressed tight against her back.

His lips moved to nestle inside her ear. "I'm so sorry," she heard him whisper. She felt his voice inside her ear, and it seemed to travel everywhere inside her body.

She choked back tears. "I love you so much," she answered in response. "I... I tried..."

He moved his mouth from her ear and held her gaze in the reflection. She suddenly felt one of his hands at the towel she was clutching around her.

With a small movement of his fingers, the towel dropped away from her body.

And all she could hear in her mind were two words.

Yes. Please.

Please.

His hand cupped her left breast. Her nipples were so aroused they were like little leaden tips. She could feel how hard he was against her bottom. She pressed herself harder against him, welcoming him.

"Mommy," she heard him whisper. "I didn't know you were so beautiful. I need you so much..."

She didn't know how he'd accomplished it, but he'd managed to put himself inside her from behind. Though she was still very tight, it had only been too easy for him to enter her, she was already sopping and fully lubricated.

She tried to talk to him out of the dizzying confusion of pleasure and joy and ultimate bliss she felt. "Do you need... A bed..." she heard herself barely grind out.

His own answering voice was strangled with desire. "No," he spoke through gritted teeth, "I want to watch in the mirror."

She couldn't believe how hard he was inside her. It felt like she was being assaulted by a lead pipe. "I'm going to take care of you now forever," she moaned softly, moving instinctively against him and raising her bottom slightly and positioning herself for easier access. She tried to meet his movements inside her. "You're my sweet little baby boy and I'm going to help you and love you always..."

"Oh God, Mom, you're so wet and tight," he breathed, his organ beginning to pummel her insides harshly. She could hear the sounds their flesh grinding against each other's was making.

"Mommy, I want to cum in you. I'm going to cum hard inside you..." He'd snaked his arm around her waist and was using it as leverage to push himself deeper into her. She​ couldn't believe how strong he was. His other hand was at her right breast, molding and harshly squeezing.

The pleasure was going to kill her, she thought. Suddenly she felt like she could barely stand. She braced her hand against the mirror and reached with her other hand to caress his hair as he began thrusting rapidly and violently and without mercy inside her. It was almost like a punishment. A delicious punishment she gladly accepted. She wasn't thinking anymore. Her being was centered in her breasts, the melting liquid pit of her stomach, the place throbbing and contracting and overflowing with wetness between her legs. "Yessssss," was all she could somehow manage to get out.

She could sense his control lessening. She could feel him twitching inside her. As she was nearing the most violent orgasm of her life, her ears picked up bits and pieces of delicious, beautiful things he was moaning at the side of her head.

"I always thought about you... All the time... I wondered what you looked like... I wrote letters to you I never knew where to send... I'd talk to you in bed sometimes... I need my mommy, where's my mommy... I love you Mommy.... Oh God, Mommy... Take my dick... Take my cum..."

Suddenly she could feel him convulse and pulse out his hot seed inside her, and her body instinctively squeezed tighter around him, milking him for his essence. Her orgasm wouldn't seem to stop. She thrashed her rear hard against him in appreciation. She could feel the delicious, warm pumping of liquid from him inside her walls, it seemed to hit her very womb and drip down from within her and trickle down between her trembling thighs...

As he moved more slowly inside her, she allowed herself to collapse against him, to lean against his strength. She felt small and tiny and vulnerable against him. She struggled to catch her breath. The feeling was the most wonderful feeling in the world. She felt complete. She felt whole and right.

She could still feel his residual seed pumping softly inside her as she kissed his sweaty cheek. "I'll bring you a towel for your shower. Hey. What's your favorite meal? I need to learn all your favorites."

Her heart felt warm and full inside her chest as he laughed against her. "We have a lot of time for that, Mom. I love you. I'm so glad I found you again."

THE END