The Blind Struggle

"Me too," he answered.

I thought for a minute and then typed, "What we did was wrong."

There was another pause and then he said, "I know."

My heart sank. I guess a part of me was hoping he wouldn't agree with me. That he would try to convince me that it wasn't wrong. That he might even try to seduce me again. I shook my head, frustrated with everything. I almost closed the window, but I hesitated. Another message from him showed up saying, "But I don't care."

I felt my breath start to catch. I looked around nervously, then back to the screen. Then I asked, "You don't?"

He answered, "Look. We did it. We made love. And we can't change that, no matter how hard we try to ignore it."

I found myself staring at his words for a long time. He had said, "made love" instead of "had sex." My heart was pounding. I was sure that everyone in the room could hear it. Actually, I was sure that everyone in the room and the people they were chatting with through the internet could hear it.

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't type. And my thoughts were completely against me. The only thing my mind was showing me was more imagery of Adam's naked body. Of Adam lying on top of me. Of me lying on top of him. I shook my head just as I had the first thought in my life about what it would feel like to perform oral sex on my son.

"Are you there?" he typed.

"Yes," I answered.

There was another long pause, and then two words flashed on my screen, "Come home."

I gasped. There was something tremendously intimate about those two words. Maybe I was reading too much into it. But I very much had the impression that he was begging me to come home because he missed me. It felt the same as it would if two lovers had been at odds, and they were in the process of making up. Yeah, I got all that out of two words typed over the internet.

"Ok," I finally typed back. Then I logged out before he could respond again.

I paid for my latte which I didn't even touch, and made my way out of the café. I walked two blocks before I realized I had forgotten the breast pump. I almost screamed in frustration. I thought about going back for it, but the embarrassment was too much. I couldn't face those people and ask if they had found my forgotten pump lying on the seat.

Resigned, I started looking for a cab. I found one two blocks later, on a small street that had very little traffic. I gave the driver my address and leaned back as he drove. It took almost forty five minutes to get through traffic and get home. But I made it.

I paid the driver and walked inside the apartment building. We lived on the ninth floor. I stepped onto the elevator and saw that number nine was already lit up. I looked over and saw one of my neighbors standing quietly in the elevator. She didn't look at me. I didn't even know her name. But I had a sudden thought that she knew what I had done.

It was suddenly very urgent that I get off that elevator. The doors opened on the sixth floor and I bolted between two startled people. I ran down the end of the hall and then through a door to the stairwell. With all my energy, I sprinted up the stairs. I wanted to beat the elevator so I wouldn't have to see that woman again.

Three floors later, I pushed my way into the hallway and ran toward my apartment. I fumbled with the keys and dropped them. I glanced down the hall toward the elevator and heard it ding. Fuck. I bent down to pick up my keys and suddenly the door opened.

Adam was staring at me. He was wearing a blue button down shirt with jeans. The shirt was untucked, and the top several buttons were undone. I sucked in a breath as I realized that my son looked... sexy. But I shook myself out of my stupor and pushed my way into the apartment. He looked puzzled as I tried to catch my breath.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"N-nothing," I said.

"Where did you go? I mean, why did you get out of the cab earlier?" he asked after closing the door.

I was still breathing heavily. I put my purse on the counter and said between breaths, "I... had to get... a... ahh, something."

"Something? Like something the doctor told you to get? Did he give you some kind of medicine?" he sounded concerned.

"N-n-no. I h-had to get a p-p-pump," I said. I felt nervous. I never stuttered. It was strange.

"A pump?" he asked, confused.

I nodded. "Yeah. For my breasts," I said.

Adam's eyes moved down to my chest and then I saw them open wide. His mouth opened, too. I looked down and felt the color leave my face. The front of my shirt was soaked. My breasts were noticeably larger. And you could see my nipples plain as day.

I finally screamed. My frustration that had been building all day finally came out, and I couldn't hold it back. I felt my arms flailing around, like I was throwing a tantrum.

And then Adam was there. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me. He was warm. He smelled like fresh shampoo. And he was holding me like a consoling lover. Inside, I felt my heart melting. Outside, I felt my fear threatening to strangle me. I couldn't move or speak.

I started shaking and he squeezed me tighter. It was emotionally intense, intimate. Physically it was... arousing. Fuck. I absolutely had to get away from him. I willed my hands up and pushed him away, but not roughly. He stared at me while I caught my breath.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, staring at my breasts. I noticed that his shirt was wet, too, from hugging my soaked blouse.

I looked down and almost started crying again. There was a big wet ring that reached down to my stomach. I shook my head to answer his question.

"Where is the pump that you bought?" he asked, looking around the room.

"Uh, I kinda forgot it. At the café," I said, feeling blood rush to my cheeks.

"Fuck," he muttered.

I looked up at him. He was still staring at my breasts. Oddly, his gaze didn't make me feel self-conscious. Very odd.

"Did the doctor know why you have milk in... uh, your breasts?" he asked. He seemed to be torn as to whether he should be talking to me about my breasts. And maybe about what he should call them.

I nodded, suddenly wanting to avoid this conversation. Too many questions would lead to truths I didn't know if I could share with him.

Adam paused, then asked, "Is something wrong with them? I mean, like, is that normal?"

I sighed. Then I looked up at my son and saw him looking at me with a steady face. The care was obvious. He cared about me. Maybe it had never really hit me before. Or maybe something had changed between us since we had sex. But the way he looked at me made me feel... well, loved. If only he knew how I had yearned for that look from his father. From anyone.

It was becoming clear to me that no matter what happened, my relationship with my son was forever altered. Bad or good, I didn't know. But it was different. To the extreme. Just two weeks ago, I never would have considered that I'd be having a conversation even remotely close to this one with him.

"Mom?" Adam persisted.

Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I answered him, "No, there's nothing wrong with me. Or my breasts."

My last comment automatically pulled his eyes down to my breasts again, but he flicked them upward again quickly. He frowned and asked, "Did he know why it happened, though?"

Emotions that I had buried months ago came to the surface. I felt my eyes welling up with tears. And I couldn't hold any of it in. "I was supposed to have a baby," I said.

"What??" Adam's shock was obvious.

"Adam, I got pregnant. Earlier this year. But I miscarried," I explained. Just those few words coming out were enough for me to start to feel a slight degree of relief. It almost felt like the pressure in my breasts eased up a little, too.

"I—but... How? I mean, who? Wait. Seriously? You were going to have another baby?" Adam was definitely shocked.

I nodded. "But I miscarried."

His mouth was hanging open, but he didn't say anything else.

"My body is just finishing the cycle now, I guess. Hence the swollen breasts." I almost felt like laughing. Was I that relieved after telling someone? Adam was the first person I had told aside from my doctor.

"Did you..." he started to ask something but trailed off.

I probably should have let it alone at that, but I wanted to know what he was thinking about. "Did I what?"

He hesitated. I nodded toward him, encouragingly. Then he asked, "Did you want to have another baby?"

I frowned, thinking about it. I remember going over that very question for the first month while I was pregnant. "I guess, yeah," I said. "I mean, I wasn't trying to get pregnant. But after it happened, I had to resign myself to the fact that I was going to be a mother again."

"Wow," he said.

I nodded. "Yeah, wow is right."

We were both quiet for a few minutes. Neither of us seemed to know what to say next. Adam finally broke the silence by saying something as he turned toward the hallway.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Nothing, just thinking out loud," he said.

Something about it piqued my curiosity. Had he just said something about crazy thoughts? "Tell me," I said gently.

My son looked up at me. Then he said, "I just said I had some really crazy thoughts while we were making love."

There he goes again with the "making love" reference. It had an instant effect on me. My body responded with a warm sensation just below my stomach. My mind responded with a visual of Adam buried inside of me, "making love" to me. I wanted to know his crazy thoughts. "Like what?" I asked.

He looked down at my stomach for some reason, then back up to my face. My cheeks flushed. I felt my heart racing a little quicker. Then he said, "Like how we didn't use any protection, for one."

I swallowed, hard. I had had the same thought. "For one?" I asked. "What about for two?"

He paused for a long time without answering. When he did answer, his voice was so quiet I had to lean forward to hear him, "I thought about what it would be like if I made you pregnant."

Another instant reaction hit me. It felt like a twinge between my legs. A heat. And a tingle. My mind was reeling. He had really had a thought about that? Wait, did he mean he was scared about it happening? I had to ask more questions, so I pressed on, "And where did that thought take you?"

He seemed shy, his voice remaining quiet as he spoke, "Not far. That was the last thought I had before..."

I leaned even closer and whispered, "Before what?"

He looked up at me and said, "Before I came inside you."

All day my mind had been throwing these images at me. Along with those had come physical sensations. Like a slow tease. Like a day of foreplay. And all day, I had been fighting them. Pushing them away.

But standing with my son, just a few feet between us, was different. And hearing him say those words, hearing him describe what we had done, had an effect on me that I wasn't expecting. My heart was pounding. Each pulse sent trickles of pleasure straight between my legs. My vagina was tingling. I was extremely turned on.

When I spoke, my voice was barely a whisper, "That can't be any worse than the thoughts I had myself."

His head snapped up as he said, "What do you mean?"

I felt my nerves kick in again. I shook my head, saying, "You know what, forget it. This is too crazy." I lifted my hand to my breasts and started rubbing one of them without realizing what I was doing. "I need to go get some of this pressure relieved. I think I'm going to have a bath."

Wait, did I seriously just tell my son I was going to go take a bath and squeeze my breasts? Looking over at Adam's face, I knew the answer to my question. He looked stunned. Then he licked his lips and turned away.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Too much information, I know."

I turned and started walking down the hallway toward the bathroom. I heard Adam's voice and it stopped me cold.

"I can't stop thinking about what we did," he said.

I slowly turned my head toward him and saw him staring at me. I nodded in understanding. I said, "I know. I'm sorry. I really am." My insides were tangled. Metaphorically speaking.

I started walking again but two words from him stopped me again. "I'm not," he said.

My mouth felt dry. I couldn't face him. My body's arousal was soaring and I was hanging on desperately to maintain some semblance of control. I felt hot. I needed to get the rest of the way into the bathroom.

I took one step. It was forced. Two step. I heard him walking toward me. Three step. I could barely breathe. Four step. I could hear him. Five step. He whispered, "You don't understand."

Six step. I turned to close the door and saw him. He looked sexy. Very sexy. All I had to do was close the door. Close the damn door! I couldn't. Instead I whispered, "What don't I understand?"

Adam didn't move any closer, but he didn't take his eyes away from mine. "I can't stop," he whispered.

"You just said that," I said, breathless.

His voice grew quieter, yet it felt like he was whispering right in my ear, "But I don't want to stop thinking about it."

I closed the door. Breathe. Goddamnit, breathe! I counted to twenty. It was dark. I hadn't even turned the light on. I held my hand on the door like that was enough to keep him from coming in. He didn't try to open it though, bless his heart.

I waited for a long time in silence. My body was slowly calming itself down. My breathing was somewhat normal. But my heart was still pounding. Nothing to do about that. And my breasts were swollen.

I heard Adam's voice drift through the door and I found myself enraptured by it. He spoke softly, "Look, I know it was really fucked up. I can't do anything to change that. I can't undo it. But it happened, mom. It happened. We can pretend it didn't, but we both know it did. We made love. And now I can't stop thinking about it. About you. I literally haven't stopped thinking about you since the moment it happened."

My melting heart bled into my soul as I listened to his words. He had me at "look", but I didn't tell him that. I didn't tell him anything. I just stood there, frozen, in the darkness of my bathroom. I wanted him. I wanted my own son. The feeling was so intense, I couldn't even force myself to deny it. Still, I remained in silence.

After a very long time, I finally heard Adam sigh and then walk away. When I could no longer hear his footsteps, I reached out and locked the door. I wanted to take a bath and clear my head.

I drew myself a hot bubble bath. It had been years since I'd taken a bubble bath. As I climbed into the tub, the heat almost scalded my skin. But I soaked it in. It was exquisite. It took me several minutes to get my entire body in the water, but it was worth the wait.

I smiled as I felt tension oozing out of my muscles. Ahhh. I lay in the tub for a long time before deciding to try getting some of the milk out of my breasts. I wasn't exactly sure how to go about it, but I tried my best to mimic what the doctor had done. I wrapped both hands around one of my breasts and slowly pushed them forward while squeezing gently.

I reached the end of that breast and nothing happened. So I started again, squeezing a little harder. It felt a little sore when I squeezed, but I figured that was normal. Again, nothing came out. I sighed, frustrated, and tried a third time. I didn't squeeze as hard, but I changed the angle of my hands as they wrapped around my breast. I felt something happening and I opened my eyes just as a stream of milk sprayed several feet into the air. I heard it splashing on the bathroom floor and I let go of my breast quickly.

The stream stopped immediately, turning into a dribble. I let my head drop back against the wall. I really wish I had that pump with me. I couldn't believe I forgot it.

A few minutes later, the water started to cool off, so I decided to get out. I drained the water from the tub and used a dirty towel to wipe up my milk from the floor. Then I wrapped myself with my big blue towel and headed out of the bathroom.

The living room was empty, thankfully. I wasn't ready to face Adam again just yet. I walked toward my bedroom, passing his on the way. For some reason, I had an urge to listen at his door. But I forced myself to keep walking until I made it all the way to my room. It was dark in the room as I closed the door. I locked it and switched on the light.

"Mom," came Adam's voice. I almost jumped right out of my towel. He was sitting on my bed wearing the same outfit as earlier. I didn't know what to say to him. What was he doing in my room? Images danced through my head from the other night.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

He at least had the decency to look ashamed. I saw his eyes roam over my body, hidden behind a towel, and then look away. For some reason, his gaze caused another physical reaction. I tried to shove it away, but it wouldn't budge. My stomach and everything beneath it was tingling.

When Adam didn't answer, I asked in a quieter tone, "What are you doing here?"

"I don't want things to be weird anymore," he said.

I agreed, but I didn't say it out loud. I just stood in my towel, staring at my son. After a minute, he asked, "Was your bath relaxing?"

I nodded and then shrugged. Then I said, "A bit, yes."

His eyes flicked down to my breasts. It was as if an unasked question hung in the air. I couldn't help but to cover my breasts with my arms. I felt shy around my son suddenly.

"Did you...," he started to say something.

I sighed. "Did I what?" Why wouldn't he just complete his sentences every time?

"...you know. Is it better now?" he asked.

I glanced down at my chest, aware of the still growing pressure in my breasts. My frustration level was still high, but I tried not to let it show. I shrugged and said, "Not really, no."

Adam frowned. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Only sometimes," I answered. "It's more pressure than pain. But it's annoying."

He nodded, looking away. When he looked back his eyes were already staring at my breasts. I tried to push away any reaction to it, but I couldn't. My body was not cooperating at all. I felt suddenly very vulnerable. My arousal was swelling up again. It was time for Adam to leave my room.

I tried to hint that he should go by saying, "I need to get dressed."

He licked his lips again, not moving. Then he said, "I could help."

"What??" I asked. "Help me get dressed?" What a weird thing to offer. Although what was weirder still was the fact that I felt a thrill at the prospect of him touching me. I shook my head.

"No, not that," he said quickly. "I meant, uh... help with that," he nodded toward my breasts as he spoke.

"Oh!" I said too loudly. My stomach was turning summersaults. It was a war with myself. Part of me was screaming that it wasn't right, that he had to leave. Part of me was screaming back that it didn't matter. And part of me was completely and thoroughly and helplessly turned on.

Adam stood up, and I found myself staring at his chest. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone. Something about his stance reminded me suddenly of his father. And he looked incredibly sexy. I forced myself to turn away, but the damage was already done. My pussy was tingling.

"You want me to help?" Adam asked softly, taking one step closer to me.

I pulled the blanket tighter and said, "No!" Inside my head I said, "Yes."

He stopped walking and said, "Why not?"

"What do you mean, 'why not'?" I said, as if I was upset about his question.

I felt like I was just playing out some role in a play or something. These were the questions and reactions I was supposed to ask. But I was only acting, and I knew it.

Adam looked nervous. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking away. I started to feel bad. I was being a bit harsh. He was just offering to help, after all. He turned back toward me and spoke quietly, "It's not that big of a deal, if you think about it."