One for the Price of Two

It was the most wonderful orgasm I had experienced in my limited sexual encounters. I felt weak and sated, and at the same time relaxed and intoxicated with love for this beautiful man.

Long after we had been released from our long built up sexual tensions, we clung together, his penis still piercing me, both of us unwilling to pull apart.

I whispered to him, "I love you Michael, I love you as I've never loved any one before. Don't leave me."

Between kissing me and caressing my breasts, his shaft still inside me, Michael spoke his words of love and warning.

"Cindy, I love you, but you know I can't stay with you. If you want to go on making love with me, then we must be very guarded. We can never have the fullness of love we might have had in marriage. That is the pain of people in our situation. If it's more than you can accept, you only have to say so, only know that I love you and want you."

I knew it too well, and my words, "don't leave me," were only a cry trying to reinforce my love for him. I wanted him on any terms, however limited.

Had he been a man in other circumstances, and divorce easier, marriage was what I might have asked of him, but I knew the Church frowned upon, and usually dismissed, ministers who parted from their wives.

That first night, after one coupling, Michael had to go home, even though we both knew we could have spent the whole night making love.

We went through the cold practicalities, arranging when we could be together. It worked out that in the coming years we could only come together two, sometimes three, times a week, and always after Michael had attended an evening meeting. Often our time together was brief – sometimes only half an hour or an hour at best.

This lasted until Alec started school, then we were able to come together during the day, and this meant we had up to three hours with each other at least once every week, and perhaps for briefer periods at other times.

These were halcyon years for me, and though I could have had other men – men in a position to offer me marriage – I thought that having experienced Michael, nothing else would satisfy.

One lurking anxiety had been the question of whether I was depriving his wife of her conjugal rights. In bits and pieces, I learned about Michael's situation at home.

After giving birth to two children, his wife, as it were, shut up sexual shop. She wrapped herself in her work as a librarian, and moved from the marriage bed into another room.

Like me, Michael was not fitted for a life of sexual abstinence, but it was not until I had been bold enough to tell him I wanted him, that he had made any move to gratify his sensual needs with me.

Very infrequently, we managed to spend a night together when his wife went with their children to visit relatives in a distant city. Yet, even this was difficult. Michael had to arrive after Alec was asleep, and be gone before he woke in the morning. Not easy as he grew older and more boisterous.

For all the difficulties, I felt secure in Michael's tender love. I commenced my studies, and even in this, he was able to help me. Being very well educated him self, he guided me through many academic difficulties.

I gained my ambition and entered university, and having discovered I had a gift for languages, I specialised in this area.

So, the happy days went on, loving and being loved by Michael, and watching my son grow towards manhood. I suppose I grew complacent, thinking it would never end.

It was impossible for our relationship to be completely hidden, and especially could it not be hidden from my neighbour, Edith. She saw Michael coming and going, and worked out what was going on.

One day, about three months after Michael and I had started making love, she confronted me about it.

"Cindy, I don't condemn what you and Michael are doing. If he can find the love and warmth he needs with you, and which he obviously does not get from that cold fish he's married to, then I'm happy for him. It's you I'm worried about."

"You're young and could get plenty of men…men who would marry you. One day you and Michael will have to part, and I'd hate to see you hurt. Be careful, Cindy, or you'll end up with a broken heart."

I did not accept what she said. I believed Michael would never leave me, and as the years went on, and our devotion to each other deepened, I thought it would never end.

Then one day the blow fell upon us.

The Church had a rule that stated a minister could only stay on in a Parish for a given number of years. Michael and I had been lovers for fifteen years, and then it was decreed that he must transfer to another Parish.

It was our hope that he would be transferred to another nearby suburban Parish, but Michael was now fifty, his children grown up and gone from home, and his wife claimed she was ready for a change of scenery. Thus the Church bureaucracy in its "wisdom", decided that Michael should go to a mining town about six hundred kilometres distant from where I lived.

We were both distraught at this situation. I was by then serving as a translator for a publishing house, and for various companies seeking to market abroad. Alec was getting towards the end of his high school years, with every sign being he would go on to university.

We tried to look at the situation from every possible angle. Michael would have sacrificed all for me, divorced, left the ministry and married me. From the very beginning, I had told myself I would never let him do that. I refused to agree with the proposition now. Too much would come crashing down, and I had learned something about being unselfish.

I could not bring myself to attend the congregation gathering for his farewell. Instead, we said our private goodbye, making love and in tears.

After he had gone, I went into that form of depression called "grieving". In a way it was worse than when someone close dies. I knew Michael was out there somewhere, but was lost to me.

I swore to myself there would never be another man in my life, and then felt agonising pangs of jealousy as I thought Michael might find another lover. Looking back now at that time, and seeing it objectively, I can understand that there was no reason why Michael should not find another love partner. He had offered to give up everything for me, and I had said "no".

We exchanged letters and occasionally spoke on the telephone, but in time, this began to diminish until we stopped contacting each other completely. I suppose we both felt that to try to continue our relationship in this way was only to prolong the agony.

So from the joyful years I descended into a dark pit. I struggled on, trying to pretend that everything was fine for the sake of Alec.

I would have been deluding myself if I thought Alan had not known about Michael and I. He never made a direct comment about the sexual aspect, but often teased me in fun about my "Parson boyfriend." I think he was rather pleased that his mother had someone in her life that made her so happy.

He was now eighteen and had grown into a sensitive, fine looking young man, and could not fail to notice the gloom that came over me after Michael's departure.

When he was in his mid teens I understood he was ready to engage in sexual intercourse. Out of my own experience, I sternly counseled him about how to treat a girl. He was to make sure she did not get pregnant, treat her honourably and make sure she got as much pleasure as she gave him. I also instructed him, that if he was going to engage in sex, he was to bring the girl home, and not take her in the back of his car or some other equally uncomfortable place.

It did not take long for Alec to announce that he and a girl called "Wendy" wanted to start having sexual intercourse. "It's okay, mum," Alan blithely explained, "she's on the pill."

"Have you spoken to Wendy's mother about this?" I asked.

He looked abashed. "Well, no, mum, I haven't, but I think Wendy has."

"Then you won't mind if I speak to her, will you?"

Alec looked rather startled at this, but finally agreed.

I telephoned Wendy's mother and made an appointment to go and speak with her. She proved to be a very amiable woman and confirmed that Wendy had spoken to her about starting a sexual relationship with Alec.

"You know," she said, "I'd much rather this than she went around having sex in secret, and possibly promiscuously. If they stay faithful to each other, there's no danger of disease, either. I put her on the pill when she turned sixteen, just in case. Her father and I are quite happy for her to have sex with your son, and I'm glad you've offered to let them use your house. I have made the same offer, so they can come to us, or you."

The first time Wendy visited, I found her to be a slightly plump and cheerful young woman, with a very sweet disposition. I could well understand Alec being enamoured of her. She thanked me without specifying for what she was thanking me, but we both knew.

For the next two years, Wendy was a regular visitor, arriving a couple of times each week. I saw her only briefly as Alec escorted her to his bedroom, and on the first such visit, I became a bit alarmed.

Soon after their departure to the bedroom, I heard cries and yelps, culminating in male groans and a female shriek. I thought he must have been hurting the girl and was about to intervene when the noises subsided and all was quiet for about half an hour. Then there was another round of cries and a female shriek, followed by a silence.

My doubts about what had been going on were ameliorated when the young people finally emerged. Wendy, looking like the cat that had just got at the cream, seemed very relaxed and happy. Alec appeared equally content with his lot in life. Wendy engaged once more in non-specific thanks, then she departed with Alec who was to escort her home.

From then on, the noises of vigorous copulation were to be heard a couple of times each week in our house. Alec would depart for Wendy's home on other occasions, where, no doubt, they engaged in further sexual activity.

As result of this relationship, I noticed that Alec was much more relaxed and able to concentrate more on his studies. From a practical point of view, the relief from the frustrated sexual needs that beset so many young people had worked well for Alec, and I think Wendy.

For as long as I still had Michael, the pleasures of the young people were a happy event as far as I was concerned. That Wendy was contented with Alec did not altogether surprise me, since on a few occasions when I had glimpsed his genital endowment, I noted he was better served than his father was. I concluded that his well-developed organ must have been inherited from my side of the family.

It was when Michael and I parted, that the joyful sounds emanating from the bedroom began to have a negative effect on me. However I justified my feelings at the time, looking back I can now see it was raw envy. Here was I, still young and sexually vibrant, cut off from, and grieving for my lost love, and there were these young people, vigorously deriving joy from each other just a few metres away from me. It seemed to rub salt into an already painful wound.

Then a change in the situation came about. It was around six months after Michael and I parted, that one week I noticed Wendy did not turn up.

This had happened before when she had gone away with her parents on a trip, or on other odd occasions. It usually meant that Alec was a bit grouchy, but nothing worse.

At first, I paid no attention to Wendy's absence, but by the end of the second week I was prompted to ask where she was.

We had both showered and clad in our dressing gowns we were wandering around doing the last little clearing up jobs before going to bed, when I asked my question.

"What's happened to Wendy? Are you two all right?

"Gone away," replied Alec, darkly.

"When is she coming back?"

"Not coming back," he answered.

"Do you mean you've broken up with her?"

"Not exactly," he said, "She's not going to university, so she's got a job up north, and has gone there to live. We talked about still seeing each other, and how we might get married one day, but I know it won't happen like that.

It sounded like a wretched rerun of Michael and I, except that Alec would be better placed to get over the loss of Wendy.

I could see that he was near to tears talking about his lost Wendy, so drawing him to sit beside me on the couch, I tried to console him, telling them there would be other girls, and all the usual useless cliches. In doing this, I brought my own misery to the surface and we both ended up crying and hugging each other.

In the course of this sobbing session, Alec revealed that he had known for years about Michael and I, and was deeply sorry for us both when we had to part, but didn't know how to express it. He went on:

"You know mum, when I first started to get sexual feelings, and before I had Wendy, I used to get quite jealous of you and Michael. I think I was afraid you loved him more than me."

"Don't be silly, darling, it wasn't a case of more or less love, it was just different sorts of love."

"It wasn't for me, mother."

I didn't understand what he meant, so I turned to him and gently kissing him on the lips, I said. "Well, there's nothing to be jealous about now, is there, darling?"

I suppose it was the grief of loss that helped bring about what now happened. I have noticed that human emotion is non-specific. I mean, one sort of emotion can flow into another, even when there does not seem to be any direct connection between the emotions involved.

Alec returned my kiss, but it was not what is called a "filial" kiss. Nor was my response that of a mother with her son. I opened my lips and his tongue flickered over them. I felt his hand slip inside my dressing gown to touch and caress my breasts.

I had not had man for months, and Alec had been without his Wendy for nearly two weeks. Both of us were sexually pent-up and our attempts to console each other now spilled over into sexual arousal.

Our kissing became frenzied, and Alec's gentle pressing of my nipples worked on me like an aphrodisiac. I think we both wanted the comfort that sexual coupling can give, and I not only surrendered to his caresses, but also responded to them.

He had opened my dressing gown to expose my breasts and was suckling my nipples. I reached down and found his erect penis and began to move the foreskin, slowly at first, then gradually speeding up.

"No wonder Wendy screamed with ecstacy," I thought, as I felt the size of his shaft.

His fingers had sought, and found, the outer lips of my vulva, and parting them; I felt a finger inserted into me, while his thumb moved round my clitoris in a gentle circular motion. "Wendy taught him well," I thought.

Feeling that I was saturated with my love fluids, Alec moved me to lie along the couch, and parted my legs. He came over me and began his entrance when with a shock of realisation I began to try to stop him.

"No darling…no…no. Not now, please, not now…you mustn't…you'll…"

It was too late. He had penetrated quickly to his full length, and he was so desperate he shot his sperm into me immediately.

As he fired into me, in gasping tones he cried out his love for me.

"I've wanted you…even when Wendy and I…it was always you…you don't know how much…"

He finished with a long gasping sigh, the sound of one who had, after long abstinence had finally found fulfillment. Perhaps like a starving man who has found the food he lusted for.

I should have got up and run to the bathroom to wash his semen out of me, but he continued to lie inside me, and now I did not care. I wanted him there. I wanted him to make me come.

As I lay there, I stroked his face and hair, murmuring my love for him, realising the agony he must have gone through, knowing Michael was making love to the woman he wanted. Feeling sorry for Wendy also who, it now seemed, had been a substitute for me.

I began to cry softly and Alec withdrew from me."

"Mother, I'm sorry, I don't know what…I just wanted…I've always wanted to…"

"It's all right, my love. Nothing to be sorry for. We were distressed so we consoled each other."

"But you said 'no', and I still went ahead."

"You had already entered me by then, darling. Do you think you could have stopped?"

"Not really, I was coming from the first moment I was inside you. But you wanted me to stop."

"Well, I did, but then I didn't. You see…" I hesitated. Should I tell him or not. I was still sexually worked up and wanted him to make love with me again. If I told him, would he be turned off? I decided it was better to be honest right at the start, because, if we did make love again, I was fairly sure it would not stop at that.

"Darling, I have to tell you…you see, I could get pregnant."

"But you and Michael…"

"He had a vasectomy, my love."

"Oh my God, I thought you must be…"

"On the pill?" I finished his sentence for him.

"Yes."

"Do you mind that I'm not?"

"You mean, I could have made my own mother pregnant?"

"It is possible. Would it have stopped you if you'd known?"

"I'm not sure, mother. If I'd known, I might have stopped when you said 'no', or at least tried to. I haven't been a very loving son, have I?"

"If you believe that, I might have to say I haven't been a very loving mother."

"Oh no, mother, that's not true…"

I stopped him before he went on; "Alec, I'm not saying 'no' now, am I?"

"You want me to…"

"Yes, I want you to, very dearly."

"But suppose I do make you pregnant, how would you feel?"

"Do you know, darling, I think I would be delighted."

There flashed through my mind all the times with Michael when I would have loved him to impregnate me, I wanted so much to bear his child. That could not happen with him, but why not now, with someone else I loved dearly? I went on:

"How would you feel, fathering a child with your mother, my love?"

"Very excited," he replied, his voice shaking with emotion."

I could see he already had another erection so I said, "Then why don't we clean ourselves up a bit, and then you can take me to bed – my bed – I don't want to be confined in that single bed of yours," I smiled.

After the first few couplings with Michael on the single bed I had once used, I had made sure I purchased a nice big lover's bed.

We had a shower together during which Alec took me standing up or rather; he lifted me so I could slide on to his penis. He was too tall, or I was too short, to actually have sex with him standing.

I was a little disappointed that he had ejaculated into me in the shower, thinking it would spoil what I had hoped was to take place in bed. I need not have worried. By the time we had cleaned each other's genitals again, he was already on his way to another erection.

He carried me to the bedroom and laid me gently on the bed. When he had come beside me, I was able to look at him properly for the first time. When he had entered puberty he had become shy about my seeing his body, so I had only fleeting glimpses of him naked.

Now my eyes feasted on him. "What a beautiful boy I have made," I thought, and in a mental flashback I remembered calling someone else, "Beautiful". I spoke those or similar words now: "You have such a beautiful body, Alec." I wanted to add, "how could Wendy leave you," but thought better of it.

Alex gave a short laugh, "It's a body you made."

I looked at his manhood, the long thick shaft culminating in a gorgeous rosy crown; the foreskin was peeled back to show it glistening as it discharged pre-cum. I took it in my hand, and heard him give a little gasp. I did not massage it, but slowly explored it, first with my fingers, then with my tongue, licking up his pre-cum. It was a magnificent organ. I had had it in me hastily twice, but next time I was determined I was going to enjoy it to the full. Having discharged into me twice, I felt sure that Alec would last longer next time.