Knocking Up Mom Ch. 02

That naked body pressing warmly against mine had spent the entire night in my bed.

That naked body was my son.

His crotch nestled against my buttocks. The same buttocks he had expressed the desire to split and enter.

When he first asked if he could spend the night with me, I had immediately declined. I told him it would be inappropriate for a mother and grown son to sleep together.

Some shred of a traditional mother/son relationship kept intruding itself into each new situation that arose. He pointed out that we had already seen each other naked; we had already engaged in sex; we had already used his father's bed in an anything-but normal way; and, most importantly, we had already created a baby together.

The mother in me felt justified to order him from this bed. The woman in me longed for the father of her child to cherish her, stay close to her, surround her, protect her, and ... sleep with her.

I let him stay.

We had cuddled and laughed and talked until sleep overcame us both. There had been no more sex. Just contented man/woman companionship.

I had been stunned at Blake's proposal to have anal sex. It shocked me. And, I was no longer the mostly-naive girl of a few months ago. I was a fully sexually aware woman who was now carrying her own son's child. I was a woman who had done more varied sexual acts in the last three months than I had done in the previous 41 years.

And yet, it had astounded me. Even though I had sensed Blake's preoccupation with my butthole. Even though he had rubbed it, licked it, and inserted his finger into it—it still jarred me when the words "Mom, I want to fuck that tight ass of yours!" came streaming from his mouth.

I got up and made breakfast as usual. I let Blake sleep since it was Saturday and he didn't have to rush off for school.

I was finishing buttering some toast when I heard behind me, "I slept great, Mom. How 'bout you?"

"Yeah, great." That was partly true. The sleep part. The part where I lay awake contemplating Blake's words was the untrue part. That had NOT been great.

I gave Blake the already-made toast and slid another two slices in to the toaster for myself.

We ate mostly in silence. Talked a little about the trip to the airport later that evening to pick up his father.

When breakfast was over, Blake sidled up to me at the kitchen sink and slid his hands around me from the rear and cupped my breasts. I was still naked with only my thin satin robe covering my body.

My nipples went hard, maybe from the friction, or maybe because my body recognized the father of my baby, the man who made that body obey its sexual commands and rewarded it with the most intense orgasms it had ever known.

"Blake," I said, "you know this has to stop again when your father gets home."

"That gives us all day then, doesn't it, Mom?"

He kissed my neck, and I moaned despite myself. I shook my mind clear after a moment and said in a businesslike manner, "Your Aunt Bev will be here any second. She's helping at the church while I prepare for your Dad's return. He still has a Sunday service remember."

"I remember," he said. "Do YOU remember what I said yesterday?"

I pretended ignorance. I knew what he meant. "You said a lot of things. I have to get dressed." But as I attempted a quick retreat from the kitchen, Blake caught hold of my arm and turned me toward him. He pulled me close in an embrace.

"Mom, you know what I mean." He dropped his hands and caressed my butt, covered only by the thin fabric of my robe. His hands glided over my muscular cheeks. "Your butt drives me crazy. I love watching you when you walk around, and when you bend over. You know what I want, Mom."

"No," is all I said.

"You didn't even think about it."

Blake would have been surprised at how MUCH I had thought about it.

"Blake, I did think about it and decided it's not for me. There are a thousand reasons why. And you should be able to guess them all!"

"There are a thousand reasons why I shouldn't be the father of the baby inside you right now. Or a thousand reasons why we draw the pictures we do for each other."

"Blake, let's not do this now."

"Mom, there are a thousand reasons why I shouldn't cum so hard in your mouth. There are a thousand reasons why I shouldn't make YOU cum when I eat your pussy. How many reasons are there that you shouldn't swallow my cum?"

"This is ... different. This is unnatural."

"More unnatural than me licking your feet or sucking your toes or cumming all over them?"

My mind was starting to reel. My son was making argument after argument about how far from natural we had already come.

"Just because we've done SOME things doesn't mean we have to do EVERY thing," I said.

"I want to fuck your butt, Mom. It would mean a lot to me." He kissed me.

"Blake, I just don't understand why. There are so many other ways we—"

"Besides being real exciting and it would feel real good, there's something that you letting me do it would say you're mine, really mine to me. It's something I know Dad would never have from you and would be yours and mine alone."

"Blake, you know it would hurt me, hurt terribly."

"Maybe knowing that and the fact you would still do it for me is why I want it. Can you understand that?"

"No, Blake, it makes no sense at all to me," I said.

***************************

"Butt sex?" my sister said with a scrunched up face.

"Yeah. What's the allure? Why would a man even think about it?"

"Where is this coming from, anyway?" she asked.

"You know ... people in the congregation have all sorts of problems, and—"

"You want me to believe someone in your congregation picked YOU out—the purest straightarrow in the world to discuss butt sex?"

I think my title of "Pure" was now a bit tarnished because of whose baby I was carrying, and it gained more patina with each orgasm my son coaxed out of my body.

"Forget it," I said. I probably shouldn't have even brought up the subject. It took me three tries before I got up the courage.

"No, no," she said, taking on that look she got whenever she would lecture me. "For starters, butt sex is the ultimate goal of very guy. Even if he's never thought about it—that's his goal."

That made no sense to me at all, but I didn't interrupt.

"Men know women have no interest in giving THAT up willingly. Why WOULD we? That should be a one-way highway, right! That's how nature intended it."

She looked at me, so I nodded.

"But, men want whatever they can't have. Ever notice that? Anything that's out of reach—that's the thing that looks good to them. A woman's butt should be out of reach. Especially if she's giving him plenty of vagina sex and a good helping of oral sex, right?"

"BEVERLY!" I gasped. My sister and I had never EVER had this conversation before.

"You asked for it, Kim!" Bev smiled. She was actually enjoying my discomfort.

"You sound like you've thought this out before," I said.

"Oh, I have. You'd think that if a guy was getting a lot of other sex, he wouldn't want butt sex. But NOOO! He just thinks he's even closer to the goal line. The goal line being your sphincter!"

"Oh Gawd!" I said and put my face in my hands. "But why—"

"Possession. Domination. The forbidden. The taboo. A man wants that last thing a woman possesses. AND—to take it by force—that's nothing. That's less than nothing. But, when a woman offers him that of her own will. That's domination that works both ways now. A man is forever under her control. At least that's my opinion."

"And you know this how?"

It was her turn to look uncomfortable. "Hypothetical. All hypothetical." She gave a big grin, and raised her eyebrows a few times.

"Let's change the subject," I said.

"Before we do, just let me give you two words of advice. All hypothetical, remember. First, clear the runway, if you know what I mean. And second, lube up, not only that runway, but also the whole rocket, if you know what I mean."

Unfortunately, I knew exactly what she meant.

**********************************

"Hello, Mrs. Best."

"Hi, Carrie," I said. She was coming out of Sugarland Pharmacy; I was about to go in and pick up Ed's allergy prescription before he got home.

"How's Blake today? He hasn't even called me."

"I guess he's been busy. With his dad away and everything," I said. I didn't want to let on HOW busy he had been since she last saw him. I took a little nasty pinch of pride that my son was neglecting his girl, and that I was probably the reason.

She turned to go. "Tell him 'hi' for me and have him give me a call."

"Phone works both ways, Carrie. Call him," I said.

"I don't call boys," she said. "Boys call ME!" She had turned toward me and put her hands on her slim hips.

Something in her bearing and attitude rankled me. Here she was being, shall I say, "bitchy" with her boyfriend's mother. What was she like with Blake? Did she make him crawl and beg? Did she use her wiles and charms to control him?

"Communication should be mutually cooperative, Carrie," I said, deciding to be the adult in the room and give her some good advice.

"If he doesn't appreciate me, Mrs. Best, that's all on him. I expect him to call and let me know that—OFTEN!" She was angry and couldn't help show it. "This is the first time he hasn't called me almost every hour. Or at least text me."

"Maybe he's been preoccupied. Ever think of that? Maybe he was busy with something he considered important."

"I can't think of anything that should be more important than ME! You can tell him that for me!" She turned and stomped off without saying goodbye.

My face was hot with anger. I grinned at the thought of her coughing and splitting up Blake's cum. My grin grew bigger when I thought that I myself had swallowed his whole load while she couldn't.

I got Ed's prescription, and then an evil, prideful, vindictive thought seized me when my eye caught sight of an aisle I had always avoided. A wicked impulse sent me down that aisle and a moment later I was looking guiltily around as I made my purchase. Luckily there was no one else in the store, and the sleepy-looking cashier paid no attention, not even looking up at me.

********************

Blake was napping in front of the TV in the living room.

I had gotten home, put away some groceries, visited the bathroom, and was inspired to do a quick sketch. Inspired by Carrie! The little bitch! I'd show her preoccupied.

As I finished the sketch, Blake stuck his head into the study. "When do we have to leave to pick up Dad?"

"We don't have to leave for a few hours yet. I saw Carrie at the drug store. She says you haven't called."

"Yeah. Usually I have a lot to say, but, since yesterday ... I dunno. A lot happened yesterday. Carrie just hasn't been on my mind that much."

"Distracted?" I asked, and smiled.

"Well, duh! Yeah, I'm distracted. I'm thinking about YOU, Mom. I'm thinking about Dad coming home. I'm thinking about how special yesterday was."

"Sounds like you've been doing a lot of thinking," I laughed.

"Have you done any thinking, Mom?"

"About yesterday? You're right. That was very special. And yes, I've thought about with your father coming home, we have to get back to normal again, like he had been acting the past few months."

"I guess," he said. He looked down and the disappointment on his face was not subtle. "I'd better call Carrie, I guess."

"We're going to get back to normal, young man."

"I know, Mom. You've said it all before."

"But, like I said, we don't have to leave for the airport for two hours." I handed him the sketch I had just drawn.

He took it, looked at it for a good 30 seconds as his eyes got wider and wider. He looked up at me, then down at the sketch again. Then up at me: "Mom! Do you mean ...?"

I nodded, and smiled. Half the sketch was of my face with the word balloon saying "Blake, please be gentle." The other half showed Blake's hard cock pointing at me. It wasn't pointing at my face; it wasn't pointing at the entrance of my vagina; it was pointing toward—the tip barely making contact with—my puckered, tight, virginal anus!

I had decided to let my son have anal sex with me.

He pulled me to my feet and hugged me close and kissed me. Kissed me gently, and then deep. I responded.

I had gone from shocked to frightened to curious to willing. Carrie had tipped the scales. I wanted to be the first for Blake. And I wanted Blake to conquer that last part of me. I desired no physical sexual satisfaction from this. All I wanted was a psychological two-way possession. Blake and I forever bound in that one last act. Carrie would never have that. No other girl ever could again.

Maybe I was twisted or selfish. But, I was carrying my own son's child, and some part of me, a big and powerful part, felt justified for what I was about to do.

"C'mon, Mom." Blake led me to my bedroom. To his dad's bedroom. He was going to take me on his dad's bed. I had changed the sheets that morning, but knew now his dad would not be the first one to lie on them. Ed would have to wallow in the wake of his son's and his wife's anal adventure.

Our clothes melted off each other. We stood again, naked together. It felt more natural and more comfortable each time. I smiled as I thought back to that first scene, when I hesitantly shed my robe in Blake's room so that he could sketch his naked mother.

Blake's mouth roamed over me, kissing and nibbling, and sucking. His hands skimmed my skin, pausing on my slightly protruding belly. He whispered in my ear, "Mom, I'm so happy we're having a baby together."

My mind still reeled at times to come to grips with the fact that this beautiful boy was my son, but he was also the man who had impregnated me. His gorgeous cock had invaded my depths and successfully planted his seed within me. The whole world believed Ed was the father. Only Blake and I knew that this child was not only a brother or sister to Blake, but also a son or daughter. And, as shocking as it may seem, my baby was also a grandson or granddaughter to me! I was going to be a grandmother.

Blake drew the bedcovers down and we simultaneously crawled onto the soft mattress. I was about to tell Blake about a surprise, but he guided me to my back and gently attacked my feet, much like he had done the day before.

This was HIS surprise.

"Oh my God!" I groaned as that irrational jolt of thrill and desire flooded me again as he licked and sucked at every crevice my feet afforded.

When he had me throbbing and writhing at a fever pitch, he started to make his way down my legs. "I'm going to eat that beautiful pussy of yours, Mom," he murmured between kisses.

I didn't protest or hesitate. I said, "Eat me, Blake. Suck my clit!" My voice was cloudy with passion. My mind raced back to the first and only time I had ever had cunnilingus performed on me: that day back in Blake's room. Now it was going to happen again!

He took his time, burying his mouth on my birthing hole. The hole he emerged from and the hole his child would emerge from. It met him with a steady stream of fluids, which he lapped and swallowed.

He brushed his face across my course pubic hair again and again in a sweeping motion of his mouth, washing his chin and cheeks with its roughness. Then he hardened his tongue and ran it through my vaginal slit all the way to my clit.

I jumped and incoherently cried, "NGGGHHH!"

His tongue retraced its way down, down until it strained to reach even lower than before. Blake pushed my knees to my chest and levered my hips up.

This gave him access to what he had lusted over—my asshole. His tongue licked and probed it. "I'm going to fuck you, Mom. Fuck your ass."

All I could say was "Yes!"

My acknowledgement seemed enough to let him return to eating his mom out. He retraced his route to my clitoris and circled it with his rough tongue.

"Unnnggghh!" I breathed. When he began to softly suck on it, my breath came quick and short until it all exploded out of me:

"BLAKE! BLAKE! YEESSS! I'M CUMMING!"

My hips bucked and the vision of my son's handsome face consuming me while my pubic hair consumed him sent my hips vibrating in tune with some inner divine orgasmic chorus. I was privileged to remain in that celestial realm for a good 40 seconds—maybe the longest orgasm I had experienced yet.

Perhaps my body was learning how to endure pleasure in a way I had never thought possible.

I came down into a stupor, barely able to move. Blake crawled up and sucked my breasts and cradled me for a minute. My hand unconsciously sought his hard cock. I encircled it, my fingers unable to fully go around its thickness.

"Mom, that feels so good."

"Blake ..." is all I could hoarsely say.

He made a motion to roll me onto my stomach. I guess his patience was at an end and his apparent excitement and anticipation of the "main event" was taking over.

"Wait," I said, and gently guided him lie flat on his back. I kissed his chest and made my way down to his hard, hot cock. My tongue lashed out and gobbled up the fluids leaking from the tip. Then my lips surrounded my son and I bobbed my head up and down while applying a slight suction.

A boy who's just made his mom cum deserves a little blowjob I thought to myself.

I pulled my mouth off and said, "I have a surprise for you." Then I turned and opened my night stand drawer. I took a small black bottle out and showed it to Blake.

He read the label out loud: "Pjur Back Door Silicone lubricant. MOM! When did you get this?"

"This afternoon, while I was picking up your father's prescription. That's when I made my decision to go ahead with this." I didn't mention what role the encounter with Carrie had in formulating that decision.

I unscrewed the cap and squeezed a generous glop onto my fingers. I thought back to my conversation with my sister and her suggestions. Runway cleared—check! Now all that had to be done was lubricate the "rocket" and the "runway!"

I coated Blake's hardness with the viscous, clear fluid from the bottle. It was amazing and reduced the friction of my hand to practically zero. Blake sighed a soft: "Ooooohhh!" as I rubbed.

Then I got to my knees and told him, "Hold out your right hand." When he did I poured a generous dollop onto the ends of his index and middle fingers. "That's for me," I instructed.

I put the bottle on the night stand and "assumed the position." Blake needed no coaching at this point. Seeing his mom on all fours with her ass wagging in the air gave him all the permission he would ever want.

His fingers found my asshole and rubbed the lube all around my tight anus. "Inside too," I prompted. "Easy, though."

He went slowly, and his finger inserted with almost alarming ease, aided by the miracle lube. Even I was convinced that now I was totally "greased."

"Okay," I said, and steadied the foundation of my stance.

"Why?" Blake asked. His voice was small.

At that moment, I felt a swell of pride for my son. Here he was, about to undertake one of the most bizarre, taboo, sought-after, intoxicating sexual acts a man can achieve—and he took the time to ask. No blind lust here. This proved to me we were sharing.

"I want this, Blake. I want this, maybe not the same way you do, not for the mere pleasure of it. I want to give you this. I want this to be a special gift to my son, my lover, the father of my child. Maybe selfishly, I want to be the first for you. And for me, I want you to be the only man who will ever enter me this way. I want it to be you."

"Are you ready, Mom?"

"Probably not," I said. But we both laughed. "Just go slow."

Blake was standing on his knees and scooted up close to my upturned butt.

"Mom, you ass is so beautiful, and your butthole—"

I reached back, found his slick penis and fit it against my tight little virgin asshole.