Knocking Up Mom

I put on my green satin robe and looked at Ed for a few minutes with no particular thoughts going through my mind. Then I opened my night table drawer and took out my sketchbook. I thumbed through the recent work and stopped on one with captions. I read them over several times.

I was halfway to a decision, but needed more.

I walked to the mirror by the wall and moved it. Then I knocked on the wall. I sat on the bed and motioned a "come here" sign. Soon there was a quiet knock on my bedroom door. It opened a crack before Blake stuck his head in.

"Come in," I said.

Blake slowly eased his way into the room, never taking his eyes off his father's naked body. I don't know if he was frightened or horrified.

Blake whispered, "Is Dad okay? Does he need help."

"He's fine. He's not dead, just dead drunk." I spoke in a normal voice.

"Won't you wake him up?"

"ED!" I yelled. "ED!" No response, none at all. "See."

"So ... it's done? You did it?"

"Yes, it's done. But, no ... we didn't do 'it.' Your father passed out as soon as we got in the room." I didn't tell him I allowed that to happen.

"So it was all for nothing?" Blake still looked at his father.

"A lot of people were happy today. A lot of people found something they might not have had before," I said.

"Yeah, but that'll come to an end when, yanno."

"I don't get pregnant." Blake nodded and sat down next to me on the bed.

"I really thought it might work today. That this had all been meant to be. Dad had me believing in ..."

"Miracles?" Blake shrugged, then I continued, "We might look too hard for extraordinary things to call miracles when they are truly all around us all the time. I was looking for answers after you father passed out, and then picked up my sketchbook. I looked at what I wrote two days ago. On this drawing you wrote 'What do you want me to do, Mom?' Remember?"

Blake looked at the sketch. It was the one of him starting to mount me.

"See my response? I wrote this because I knew it was what I wanted. Back then I answered the question I had tonight when I felt so empty. When I read it again, I knew it was the right answer."

Aside of Blake's caption of "What do you want me to do, Mom?" I had written as my caption: "Please fill me with your cum and knock me up!"

Blake looked at me with wide eyes. "Mom? You mean?"

"Blake, make love to your mother. Get me pregnant tonight."

"And Dad?"

"I'll tell him he did fine and he just can't remember it. He'll believe it's his baby."

I hid the sketchbook, threw the covers over Ed, took Blake by the hand, and said, "Let's go to your bedroom."

He hugged me close when we got there. I kissed him. "My sweet boy. Are you still sure you want to do this, do this with your mother? Just the sex part is a big thing, let alone the possibility of becoming a parent."

"Mom, I want this so much. You're beautiful and sexy, sure. But, making a baby with you is going to be the best part. And another thing, something that's either weird or miraculous or something."

I pulled off his shirt and asked, "What's that?"

"The pictures we've been drawing. Have you noticed they're all coming true, like they're prophecies or predictions or something?"

I thought of all the sketches: the oral sex, the nakedness, and now the copulation."

Blake continued: "And the colored pencil drawing, the one with the egg getting fertilized? I believe THAT one is the most important of all! And I believe it's going to come true tonight. I'm going to fill you up with all my cum and one special sperm is going to find that special egg and make a special son or daughter for us! Tell me you believe that!"

I kissed him on his ripe mouth, swirled my tongue around his, then said, "I DO believe it, Blake." I pulled his shorts down and dragged them all the way to the floor. I knelt before my son and took his penis into my mouth. It was so much bigger and more powerful than his dad's.

It felt good in my mouth as it grew to its full length. My tongue raced around the head and then I took a few inches in and suck with a pulsing beat. Blake's hand went to my head and rested there. I looked up into his eyes and could only imagine the sight of his mother on her knees in front of him sucking his cock.

After about thirty seconds he pulled me to my feet, kissed me again and then untied my robe. He skimmed it off me in one motion and we were naked together. Mother and son, naked in a passionate embrace with his father a scant fifteen feet away on the other side of that wall.

Blake massaged and kissed my breasts, sucking each nipple. My head went back in delight. Sensations were shooting all through my body.

His hands raced all over me, squeezing and pinching and delving into recesses.

"Come to bed, Mom."

"It's time," I said.

"It's time."

I climbed in first and he followed, careful not to put weight on me ... yet. He lay aside of me and we embraced and kissed. Then his mouth trailed down, down, down, kissing and nipping all the way until he was between my parted legs like he had been the day before. He licked and teased and sucked ever so gently, as if he were preparing me, but never getting me too close to that edge.

"Now! Now! Blake! Now!" I breathed in a growl when I couldn't take any more.

He crawled up and drew my legs wide. He positioned himself between then and I felt his cock resting on my pubic hair. He took it with his hand and drew through my vaginal slit back and forth a few times, coating it with the slippery goodness that flowed freely down there.

Blake fit that bulbous cockhead against his birthing hole and said, "Ready, Mom?"

I took a breath, knowing that mother and son were soon to be man and woman engaged in their most sacred function: mating.

"Yes! Oh yes!" I hissed softly.

Blake eased forward.

"Ohhh!" escaped my lips as my son's cock invaded me.

He pushed steadily until about two inches were inside me. Then he pulled out to repeat the motion, again and again.

"Oh, Mom! You feel so good! So tight!"

It was true. Blake was so thick I could feel my pussy contracting against him with tremendous force.

Finally, Blake hit bottom. He was fully inserted in me and our pubic hair ground together and tangled.

Blake paused there, entirely within me, to kiss me tenderly and look into my eyes. "Mom, we're doing it. We're making love."

"Make love to me. Make love to your mother. Give it all to me. Fill me with your hot cum!" The more I talked the more I wanted to say, and the hornier I got. "Do it, Blake! Make your mom pregnant!"

"Mom, gonna knock you up!"

Blake began to pull out to the very tip of his cock and then glide back into me. If this was making love I don't know what I had been doing all the rest of my life, because THAT shouldn't be called the same this as THIS! This was fantastic ... stratospheric!

My hips learned Blake's rhythm quickly. I rose to meet his powerful thrusts, trying to get as much of him into me as I could.

Blake's chant was "Mom!" repeated in an irregular way. I made a variety of sounds, from low guttural grunts to high pitched squeals.

I raised my long legs and wrapped them around my boy's muscular butt. I locked my ankles tight and ground myself up and writhed against his thick cock, impaling myself in a self-torture of pleasure.

Blake went faster and faster. We were both covered now in sweat. Just another bodily fluid mother and son were sharing.

We had passed the limits of making love and ventured deep into the area of pure animal instinct. Blake had talked about sowing his seed. He was seeking to plant it. That's what men do. But not all men have the chance to plant that seed inside their mother. I was trying to harvest that seed with my womb. Not all mother's are privileged to do that with their virile sons.

We were blessed this night.

Minutes went by and a pressure began to build within me as Blake ground against my clit each time he thrust tremendously deep within me.

I let out a continuous stream of long "Aaaaaahh"s. These were replaced by "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!"

Finally, the room disappeared and my mind went to some divine place. I screamed a long howl and then yelled in a hoarse voice, "BLAKE! I'M CUMMING! I'M ... I'M CUMMING! AAAAHHHGGHH!"

My body writhed and twisted under my son. I pulled with my feet to drive him deeper inside of me and my hands grasped and clawed at his back as I spasmed again and again.

He kept hammering inside me until finally his whole body stiffened. He thrust deep and arched his back, lifting his face to the ceiling. I felt the head of his penis expand and he turned as still as a statue and cried out "MOM! OH MOM!" and then groaned out a series of six "AAAHHH"s. I knew he was ejaculating. My son was filling his mother with his potent seed. His sperm and semen. Six jets of hot sticky baby-making cum. All deposited deeper within me than ever before in my life. Into the very womb which had conceived him years before, trying to replicate that very accomplishment with his mother.

Through my haze I knew we had just achieved something terribly forbidden and terribly wonderful. I felt a certain pride that my 41-year-old body could so sexually excite a teen boy that he could expel his vital essence into her as nature had intended for the creation and perpetuation of life.

Man and woman clinging to each other in that eternal dance of procreation. The roles of mother and son were secondary at that point. I felt a man on top of me, a man inside of me, a man possessing me. He had a woman arousing him and bringing him to completion by the primal allure of her body.

Blake collapsed on top of me. My feet lost their strength to hang together and my legs went weak. I lay gasping for breath, spent physically as well as emotionally by our sexual union.

Blake made a move to roll off me, but I stopped him. "Baby, stay inside me for a little while so we don't lose any of what you worked so hard to deliver."

"It wasn't work, Mom. It was pleasure. Pure pleasure." He kissed me. Then kissed me again. These were tender kisses, without any of the hunger that fires sexual passion. These felt like kisses of pure love. I returned them in kind.

After about five minutes (my sense of timing was completely thrown into outer space, so I could be wrong), I gave Blake's arms a little push and said, "Okay, honey." Blake gently withdrew his still semi-rigid cock. It slid out easily, lubricated by the vast amount of our combined fluids.

"Get mom a pillow for under my butt. I want to raise it up for a while to keep everything flowing in the right direction."

I braced my feet on the bed and with shaking legs lifted my butt while Blake slid a pillow beneath me. "You probably have to throw this pillow away after what might happen to it," I laughed.

"No way, Mom. That'll be my favorite pillow if you christen it."

Hearing him say "mom" had confusing meanings for me now. Our relationship had to readjust to our evolved circumstances. Was he my little boy? my son? my lover? the father of my baby? We would have to work it all out and redefine as we went along.

We talked and hugged and kissed. I remained as still as I could with my hips raised. Our talk got quieter and less often, until I closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, six hours had passed. Six hours of blissful, unconscious sleep. Blake had really knocked me out. I really knocked him out too, because his chest was rising and falling in a familiar sleeping pattern.

I got up as quietly as I could, covered him like I had done a million times in the past, threw on my robe, and turned out the light before leaving.

I opened my bedroom door as gently as possible and peeked in. Ed hadn't moved an inch. Zonked still. Poor dear. I loved him, but he had put us into a position that—

I caught myself trying to justify what I had done. What I had done with my son. What I had done that would change the rest of our lives. I just hoped that change would forever be for the better.

I felt a little chill running down my leg. I took my robe off and sat on the toilet. Some tissues soaked up the clear drip that sought to escape my throbbing pussy. I hadn't checked the pillow that had propped me up, but I didn't think I lost much of Blake's night deposit. My pubic hair had a brittle crust in places, but that probably happened during Blake's assault on my womb.

I peed, gave a gentle wipe, and considered washing, but decided to leave the "evidence" in case Ed wondered if he had "performed." My plan was to act amazed he couldn't remember his great lovemaking.

I washed my hands and looked into the mirror. This was the same mirror that had reflected Blake's cum all over my sweater and face.

"Now his cum doesn't show. It doesn't show because he shot it deep inside you, where it is right now." I don't know what I thought of the woman I talked to who was looking back at me from the mirror.

It was close to 4:30 a.m. I got into bed and never touched Ed. I couldn't bear to tonight. I closed my eyes and sleep overwhelmed me.

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

"Ed! Time to get up, Ed! ED!"

The alarm had awoken me at 7, but it didn't make Ed budge one bit. This was Sunday morning and he had his regular service at 11 a.m.

Finally, he groaned and coughed and opened his eyes.

"Is it?"

That seemed like a strange question to ask. That was right before his eyes flew open wide and he ran for the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and I heard the unmistakable sound of vomit being brought forth.

This happened from time to time when he drank to excess. Last night qualified as excess. I usually rushed in to comfort and help. Today, I headed for the kitchen to make breakfast.

I noticed I was humming.

I busied myself with setting the table, checking my email, and making oatmeal. I figured that would be bland enough to settle Ed down.

He emerged a half hour later, looking shaved, showered, and otherwise normally groomed. What you couldn't groom was the look of his eyes, the look IN his eyes, and unsteady speed with which he maneuvered.

"I don't remember much," he said.

"How much DO you remember?" I hoped nothing sifted into his unconscious mind, like my screams or calling out Blake's name or announcing the arrival of my intense orgasm. That was a thin wall and sound traveled easily through it.

"I finished off my drink and you were about to get into bed ... and ..."

I gave Ed two big thumbs up accompanied by a big smile.

I figured I'd make this easy and finish the story for him. I hated to lie, but some situations call for it. I thought not having sex with your husband so your own son could plant gobs of cum deep into your womb to get you pregnant qualified as one of those situations.

"You were very tender and loving last night. I felt like a beautiful, desirable woman all night. Before I knew it, I was breathless with my own desire and then it happened: I was full of what I hope produces a wonderful, healthy child for us. I have a really good feeling about this, Ed."

The strain, the emotion, the hangover—they all got to my husband at once and tears formed in his eyes. He rested his face in his hands and said, "Thank God!"

I thought "He should thank Blake too." I went over and comforted him with a kiss and a caress. He grabbed hold of my hand and kissed it.

I scooped out a small portion of oatmeal for him. He protested that he didn't feel like eating. I convinced him he would feel better once he got something into his stomach. It worked. He felt 100% better when he had finished.

"What would I do without you, Kim?"

I didn't have an answer, so I gave a shrug and a giggle.

"Where's Blake?"

"Still sleeping."

"I wanted to tell him again how proud I was of him yesterday. Tell him I appreciate how he helped his Dad out, and that he can fill in for me anytime!"

"Filling your shoes is a tall task, Ed!" I tried to sound encouraging. Apparently filling his mom's pussy with a potent reservoir of cum wasn't AS difficult, evidenced by her parading in front of her husband chock full of teen sperm.

"See you there in a few hours," he said as he gave me his usual respectful peck on the cheek.

He wasn't out the door a minute before Blake stood in the kitchen doorway. This was the first time we saw each other since ... I wondered how we'd react.

"Mornin', Mom."

"You just missed your father."

"Yeah, I kinda did that on purpose."

I had been expecting something between Blake and myself, but I neglected to think about if there would be any ramifications with his dad.

"How come?"

"Well, I thought it was going to be cool when I saw him. You know how it seems I can never measure up to his standards and he doesn't give me all that much credit all the time because he wants me to aim for excellence and stuff?"

I nodded. Ed did set high standards for his son.

"Well, sometimes it seems like he thinks I'll never be as good as him. At least that's how it feels. So I thought it was going to make me feel like a big man knowing I did something he couldn't do. That I could make you cum and he couldn't."

Wow! I didn't see this coming. Blake had some competition going. I should have known when he commented about the penis size drawing I had made.

"But, when I heard you two talking this morning. I didn't feel that at all. All I felt was jealous. I was jealous that you're his wife and he gets to sleep with you and stuff. I know it's wrong, but I wanted you to know that, and to know I'm going to work on it. I love you both and I know this is my problem."

"C'mere," I said. I held my arms out. Blake was really maturing. Instead of getting and staying in a jealous mood, he had identified it and was working on it. That's a sign of maturity.

He melted into my arms, and I melted into his. Our bodies apparently had learned a subconscious ease and comfort for each other they hadn't possessed before.

"Sleep good?" I asked.

"The best. I had a dream, a dream about you."

"Tell," I said.

"We were on one side of a bridge and you didn't want to cross it but you did. And I watched you go all the way across this long bridge and I was sad. And there was somebody on the other side of the bridge waiting for you, and when you got to him, it was me saying 'hi' to you when you got there. Weird, huh?"

"Yeah," I said. "Dreams have lots of symbols. We don't always know what they mean."

Blake ate some oatmeal and said, "Oh! I forgot, I I was inspired to draw something for you." He jumped up and was back a moment later, handing me a single sheet.

I looked at it and my face got red. "Oh my goodness."

"What do you think?"

I took another minute of looking at it before I said anything. Reactions were happening in my body I never would have guessed a few days before. My breath came a little faster and my pussy gave a little quiver.

Blake had captured the exact moment of his ejaculation the night before. It showed us in the act of lovemaking, him arched with his face pointing up. My feet were locked together on his butt, and my arms surrounded him. My muscles were taut with the effort and you could tell he was straining to drive deep within me while I was striving to position myself for greatest penetration.

His eyes were closed, and my face had that contorted look that told you I had hit the height of my passion and was in the midst of an orgasm. The word balloon coming from Blake's mouth said in huge letters "MOM!"

But, that identifier wasn't needed. Blake had done such an exquisite job that anyone knowing either one of us could have easily recognized us. They would have known that mother and son were in the midst of, and at the most critical point of—mating.

I should have been shocked or embarrassed or something other than aroused. But, that's what this did. It brought back those memories and feelings.