One Night Only

"Why did we bring him along, anyway?"

I look at my husband and wonder - is that the hill you're dying on?

"Don't make this about Gilbert," I tell him, looking around to see if my boys can hear me. He walks off, annoyed, and helps Mark unpack. The silence he creates around his other son is unnerving, and sometimes I wonder if he suspects of my affair 19 years ago. Gilbert keeps to himself, I see him with his sad glasses and oily hair.

The hotel is as bad as I expected. I asked for an extra room, but Steve just went behind my back and booked the cheapest shithole in the backyard of a train station. I tell him this is not great, and he replies I'm ungrateful, and if not for Mark, he would probably no longer be with me.

Gilbert moves out of the way, letting Steve and Mark sit on the bed, talking about Sunday's big game. I know he is ashamed of not being a sports player like his brother, but I love him to death. It's late, and all I want is to sleep after a ten-hour drive. A hot shower would be great, but I just can't be bothered, and Steve won't touch me anyway.

I change into my nightgown and make a final trip to the toilet to brush my teeth, and Gilbert is there, so I wait outside. I can hear him peeing, and it always makes me feel like a dirty pervert, but it's a guilty pleasure to listen to that powerful stream. Mark's and Steve's are nothing like that. Doing laundry taught me one thing without seeing, and that is Gilbert is fathered by another. I knew it, anyway, but his size is something he shares with his real father, but he doesn't need to know.

He opens the door and smiles shyly as he sees me, nodding as I enter. There's a volume in his sweatpants - maybe that's why Mark is such a difficult brother.

I'm almost asleep when I hear them shouting. Not at each other, but at Gilbert. He normally doesn't come along, but this time was the whole weekend, and I put my foot down. It's a whirlwind how football took over my son's life and, with it, my husband's. He's his coach, always measuring his meals, counting calories, and tracking times. And we're all dragged into it.

But like all whirlwinds, things get pushed aside to avoid crushing, and Gilbert is no exception. The shy, big-glassed nerd understood that to survive his jock of a brother, silence is the best way.

It pains me to see such a kind soul, a gentle giant, being put aside like that. Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong.

"Get out," Steve shouts, "fucking weirdo."

Blood boils, and my temper snaps. I drag my body out of bed and appear in a nightgown, braless, big brown nipples showing through the translucence of the fabric, and pointing the finger.

"Mom, yuck!" Mark shouts, but I ignore him. He's beautiful, I give him that, he takes after his father twenty years ago. Shirtless, smooth, a sin-turned-man.

"What's wrong this time?"

"Gilbert," Steve says, pointing the finger just like I did, "upsetting Mark. You know how he gets anxious before his games."

It gets to a point where you just had too much from this so-called anxiety that shows up when his brother is around. Maybe is that big thing swinging around his legs when he has his pajamas on. Maybe is the planes - the reason why we drove half a day to get to this shit hotel.

"Get on with it," I say, "I need to sleep."

There's silence, and then Mark pouts. I've seen this before, and don't wait around for Steve to educate me on how my temper gets in the way of Mark's performance. I already know where we're heading, and I suggest that Steve sleeps with Mark, a more-than-expected routine at this stage.

"You know it helps him," Steve argues back at the tone of my voice. "That's why I didn't want him to come," he finishes looking at Gilbert. My heart shrinks with each syllable.

"He can sleep on the floor," Mark adds, a pang of evil.

Gilbert leaves the room, upset, and I snap back at them. "You sure deserve one another."

What kind of mother am I? It upsets me deeply, to feel such a way for my own flesh and blood. I don't want to have favorites, but it's like I'm forced to after the preferential treatment Steve gives to him. I find Gilbert locked in the toilet and knock gently, and he opens it. There are tears running down his face, which I let dry on my nightgown.

There is no way I could let Gilbert sleep on that small and suspicious couch. The bed is large enough for both of us, and I can already hear his gentle breathing under the blankets. Mark and his dad are snoring in the room next door.

He is so warm, I had to take off the blanket and sleep just with the bedsheet on. It's nice, for a change, to have someone who can provide some humanity to my night, a beating heart. Steve sometimes fucks me, but it's a two-minute thing, no contact other than his cock inside me, squirting out and panting, and that's it. I don't get to warm up or to finish, and you tolerate a few things because of love and because of your boys.

Things changed - very slowly, imperceptibly almost, and it's only when I compare what I had with him twenty years ago to now that I see the monster we became to one another. He reminds me of Mark, a tall and fit jock who played football. We met in college, he was my first. Nothing like Gilbert. Nothing at all. Outgoing, social, and able to sweep me off my feet, he loved to get lost in my large breasts.

Now, every younger girl takes his attention, and he lives vicariously through his son. His knee, the injury, the years he lost in physio and doctors, the realization he couldn't play anymore, and then Mark, and putting all his pressure on his son, until the ritual of sleeping in the same bed before the games, waking up at four in the morning to go and train, insane.

Gilbert was different. When I understood I was pregnant, I knew it wasn't Steve's. It was a dark period for us, but I still managed to fuck him one time before telling him I was pregnant. The worst of the secrets. And not one I can hide that well, because Gilbert's dark thick hair is nothing like Steve's, and looks so much like his best friend back in the day, a half Italian half Sweeden bad boy that was so hard to resist. It was the best lovemaking of my life, opening my eyes to what I was missing.

And it's a shame when someone opens your eyes like that, you are never able to close them again. But at least I got Gilbert and all the love he can handle.

A shy child, a shy adult, sweet, loving, nerdy, with big round glasses and an awkwardness it's complicated to describe. And Steve understood very well this is not his son.

Gilbert moves in bed and turns to my side. He smells of lavender after using my shampoo and makes me smile. I wrap one hand around his and fall asleep.

The sun ain't up, but already husband and son are awake. They don't make an effort to be quiet about it, but it doesn't wake Gilbert up. He sleeps like a rock, not a care in the world, on his stomach. I hear the room door closing and sigh.

When was the last time we made love for real? Too many years ago. I'm sure he's having an affair, but stopped looking for clues - the less I know, the better.

And who am I to judge?

Gilbert moves, startling me. Snoring gently, but manages to turn on his back, his leg kicking the blanket and bedsheet and exposing his pajama bottoms. In the slumber of the room, it's difficult to perceive shapes. I go to the toilet, drink some water, and on my return, have to stop before entering the bed. The bedside lamp that I turned on to see my way out of the room, reveals to me the immensity of my son.

Dirty perverted thoughts flash before my eyes.

It's trapped inside his clothes but, in a way, fully free. An arching erection, stretching his trousers, making the elastic band bend to its dimension.

I'm shaking, remembering his dad. It's been so long that the size makes me weak, and I've forgotten all about it.

I always knew the way his underwear had stretch marks, the way it gets so loose in the pouch, the reason behind not wanting to do any swimming. A mother knows. But seeing it, even undercover, makes my heart shoot to the stars and my blood flow through all my body.

It throbs. I bite my lip as all my decency evaporates. What if I lay a hand on it? Stroke it gently? Make him cum?

Did he ever spend a night with a woman before? Is he a virgin?

I just want to ride that fucking cock. The fact he's my son is secondary, not important. It's been years since my cunt opened like this, ready, just like I did with his father.

It wasn't a one-off. It was a one-year affair, which became less and less careful until the day I confirmed my pregnancy.

But that's long gone.

I enter the bed, hands shaking, trying not to make a sound. I'm heating up inside, my groin sending fire to my brain, begging for it. A little touch, innocent, what harm can it bring?

His father took me from behind, holding my breasts and cuming deep in me. He never wore a condom, I was on the pill until I stopped caring about it. With a trembling hand, I turn off the bedside lamp and pretend to be asleep while my hand travels down inside my panties.

My body slowly gets near my son until I can sense his arm on the back of my ass, and then I stop. I can't go any further. I never thought I could feel tempted like this, but desperation is a tough thing to fight back. I'm safe. He's safe, if only I keep it to myself.

The scent of lavender involves me, and I close my eyes as my hand plays with my feelings down below. He was exactly what I wanted: a rough, dirty fuck. Plain and simple. Fucked my brains out without second thoughts. If I wanted love, I had Steve. I moan thinking about him, so good and wet down there.

Gilbert moves in the bed, and I pause what I'm doing. He turns to the other side, and I can breathe again, but then he does a complete spin, pulling the covers away and rolling in bed, his big arm comes over me, and without understanding, his body is now wrapping mine. I try to pull away, but his arm keeps me hostage.

I breathe deeply. He seems still asleep, but his third leg is fully awake, pressing against my thigh. A moan, then an inaudible word. My Gilbert, so close, so hard.

"Mum?" he asks, right in my ear, pulling me towards him, grabbing me. God, what am I thinking? "You ok, Mum? What's the time?"

I look at him, rubbing his eyes with the other hand, and those big soft lips are tempting me. His cock throbs against my leg, and my cunt clenches over the anticipation of it.

"It's still early," I say.

"Have they already left?"

The tone is different. A raspy voice, sleepy, his eyes not completely open, but his body fully awake. The arm that keeps me glued to him seems to avoid all the intimate areas.

My voice comes out trembling. "They are training. They should be gone for a couple of hours," I said, knowing their routine quite well. "We can stay a little longer," I say.

"That sounds nice." He pulls the covers back on top of us, and the warmth returns, with Gilbert conquering more of me. Is he aware of his own erection, I wonder.

"I will make us some coffee," I say, but he grabs me tighter.

"Don't go, not yet. I just want to stay like this a little longer."

And I let his scent conquer me, and his hands touch my body. It is still innocent, he didn't do anything wrong, and men can't control their erections, or what they call morning wood. And I can't seem to control the way my body prepares for him, how my cunt gets slick and my breasts engorge with hormones.

"But just five more minutes," I tell him, adjusting my position.

I can hear him smile, his soft beard over my neck, and he adjusts his body too, and now he is the big spoon, and his cock rubs against my ass. "Five more minutes, that's all I need."

My eyes are open, as I look into the darkness of the room. I want Gilbert to tear open my nightgown and fuck me in this bed. My cheeks turn red with the thought, and I can't imagine what life would be like carrying guilt like that.

But it's like he knows. He moves his hand down to my belly and gently lets it rest there, warmth emanating and spreading. His cock throbs again, waking me up from the daydreaming of being fucked till my eyes cry out his name, and I press my ass against it.

I should have stopped.

I should have gotten up and make that goddman coffee.

But my ass knows better and teases that long solid boner, pressing hard, sliding on it, wishing it can fuck me.

"I think five minutes are up..." my voice cracks as I can't make myself believe it.

He pulls me to him with an arm below my neck and breathes deeply. I always saw him as someone needing protection, my nerdy and innocent son, but with one movement, he showed me what a man he is.

"We still have one minute. That's all I need, mother."

And he thrusts his pelvis into me, a sharp and strong movement, waking up my begging cunt, pulls his pants down, and moves his hand into the center of me. Without a warning, I close my eyes as I feel his engorged member finding its way between my legs.

"Gilbert!" I squeamishly say his name. Don't stop, please, don't stop, it's all I think. I want this more than I can dare to think about. At least, the covers hide us from the eyes of god.

His breath on my neck is getting faster and warmer, his tongue comes to meet my skin, and his cock knocks on my panties, soaking wet. They won't be here for at least another hour, only god knows what can happen, and even he turns a blind eye.

My walls are all broken down with the touch of his phallus, moist and scorching hot. My cunt wants to swallow him whole, it doesn't matter if he's my blood and bone - all I want is to be desecrated, is to feel wanted again.

His fingers are playing with my panties, removing them, and exposing me to him. He turns me on my back, gets the covers on the floor, and comes over me. That's a giant, a colossus between his legs, with gravity-defying curvature at the end, just like his father. The thick precum drops from its tip and starts to flow like lava, falling between my legs. I look up and see Gilbert smiling, his hand reaching for his glasses, his smile getting broader as his vision gets clearer.

Could he really wish me?

"Mother, are you sure -"

"Gilbert, I've never been surer. I want you. Come here," I say while he puts his arms behind my back, lifting me up to meet his lips.

It's not like in the movies. Gilbert has no idea how to kiss a woman, but his manhood gives him the instinct he needs to conquer me anyway. His brute technique and his brusque gestures are tamed by my big breasts and curvy body, his cock pressing against my tummy, and my fingers wrapping around it.

I can feel his heartbeat pulsating in the veins of his desire.

He sends me down, spreads my legs, and bends over.

His beard makes me shy for a moment, but I press his head over my cunt, and guide him. I don't want him to ever stop, and I wrap my legs around his neck, making him a hostage of my maternity - no, that's now also gone. I want him to make me a woman again, not a mother, I want to feel him taking over me with every ounce of his body.

"Right there," I say in a low voice, a humming of desire building up. He understands, he's not like my husband. "Oh fuck, right there," I scream this time, thanking god for my husband and son not being at home.

And I'm taken back to the times Steve's friend, that Italian stallion, took me in the middle of the street, behind a car, as Steve waited for me to come over from work. His come was dripping into my panties by the time I kissed him on the lips.

It's when my son taps with his cock on my cunt. I'm transported back to reality and see the big thick string of spit falling from his lips into the big glossy head. He leans down to kiss me, spit still hanging from his mouth, but I welcome him anyway, and feel the pressure building. He's so thick. I pull his dark hair with both hands, and he spreads my legs with his strong arms.

"You ok?" he asks between kisses, but I just grab him harder, welcoming his slick spit again on my cunt, as he pushes his member inside me. A silent scream leaves my lips.

Never been better. He tears down my walls and enters like an invading army, conquering me with all his inches and making me carve his name into his skin with my teeth as that curve makes him a carbon copy of his father.

He enters me without waiting, without begging, without preparing me enough.

"Gilbert!" I scream, but he doesn't stop. His eyes are closed, his glasses almost falling over, and his soul burns with the intensity of one thousand suns. I'm giving him everything he wished for, and in return, he's fucking me just the way I need.

The thickness is something I can't prepare for, but my walls accommodate my son's big member, and he makes me sweat as his size hits the back of my soul.

"I can feel you in my belly," I say.

He opens his eyes and pulls up my nightgown, grabbing my big breasts and pumping inside me with the energy of a young stallion.

The bed shakes violently with his relentless fucking, his balls hitting against my bare skin, our kiss turning everything into silence around us. My nails break on his back, and I pull his hair so hard that breaks it, because he's so deep in me. I cry in his arms because I can't control the intensity.

He is fucking me like a whore, and that is exactly what I needed.

Gilbert turns me around, face down, ass up, and enters me without mercy, my screams muffled in the pillow, the sun is not up yet, and the night keeps us in darkness. The head of his cock tears me a new cunt, his sweat drips on my back, his glasses go flying somewhere on the floor, and he is panting, puffing, moaning. I am surprised he can last this long, the clock is ticking, but he doesn't want it to stop.

"Do you like that?" he asks, biting me so hard it brings on the pleasure I needed.

"Don't stop," I beg, and he holds me in his big arms and lays us both on the side.

"I'm so close now, mother," he says, regaining his breath. His cock pulsates inside me, and with each heartbeat, he opens me up some more.

I can feel my orgasm coming if he doesn't stop.

"Turn to me," he asks in a sweet voice. There's a fire burning in his eyes. I complain as he leaves my cunt, but it won't be for long. "Where did you learn all of this?"

"I've dreamt of you for so long now. Had plenty of time to imagine what would be like."

And he kisses me, my cunt leaks with his presence, and I need him. I need more of him, more of Gilbert, I'm sore, but I want that member exploding inside me.

He places my legs over his shoulders, and I can taste the tip of his cock teasing my entrance. With another kiss, his big arms go behind me, and he pulls me deeper. Then, he enters me, all those inches, until there's nothing left to fill me.

And it's when I think he can't surpass that, that Gilbert proves me wrong.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you will never want anything else."

And as I open my mouth to moan, he fucks me like you fuck a rag doll. I don't have time to process the moment he's inside me and the moment he's out. His cock fills me up so completely, and then he pulls it back, leaving me empty, just to make all his inches and curves send shock waves through my body.

I belong to him. He has me in a cage, with my legs over his shoulders and his arms behind my back, and I can't escape. He can fuck me as hard as he wants, and I have nowhere to go.

My breasts are bouncing with so much energy as his powerful thighs propel him inside me, the sweat pouring out of his face, and my screams echoing on the walls. My orgasm blasts through me, my eyes roll to the back of my skull, and he explodes inside me.

He can't stop.

He doesn't ask.

Gilbert fills me up, and coats my womb with his seed, just like his father did to me.

Each pump gains new life in me.

Each moment makes me say his name.