The Cabin

When I got home from my visit, my heart was filled with hope that George would be out for the night, and I could be alone to talk to Josh, but it was not to be.

I spent the night exchanging longing looks with my son, while cursing my husband. It was a strange night, to be sure. I went to bed that night and lay quiet through the thrusts of my husband, but in my heart and mind, I was far away, kissing my son. I believe George may have noticed the increased dampness between my legs from my thoughts, for he gave me an odd look after he had finished. I ignored it and rolled away from him. In my head, I was dreaming of what it might be like to perform the act I had just done with my husband...with my son.

Chris interrupted her reading when he came in the door of the cabin, wet and bedraggled. The rain had picked up while he was out, and Amy hadn't noticed, being so engrossed in Peggy's tale. She jumped up to help him strip off his clothes while he shivered and did his best to help.

When he was almost naked, she turned to his bags to pull dry clothes out, reflecting on Peggy's aunt's words: 'If her son needed her, in any way, she should provide.'

Steeling her nerves, she thought about the best way she could help warm Chris up...and help him to cheer up. Amy turned back to Chris to see him naked with his back to her. She hadn't seen him nude in years, and seeing him now, she realized he was a fully grown man, no different than her husband when they'd first met. His lean, but well-defined arms and legs drew her appreciative eye, and she even allowed a glance at his butt. It was cute, and she resisted an urge to smack it playfully.

Pulling herself together, Amy said, "You need to warm up." A mother's duty was to ensure her children were safe. "I think I know how I can help."

Walking the short distance across the floor, she pushed him gently, her hand on cold skin, moving him to the bed. He let her guide him, his puzzled expression under the wet mop of his hair tugging at her heart.

"Sit," she said.

He did, putting his hands over his crotch. She looked down at him and smiled reassuringly before kneeling down and taking his hands in hers. She pulled, and together they saw his penis come into view. It was the first time seeing it fully grown, and she was impressed.

Chris' penis was soft, his circumcised head and shaft resting on his ball sack. His pubes were trimmed short, giving him a neat appearance. Tentatively, afraid of rejection despite his earlier words, Amy reached for the limp organ. She glanced up at his face and saw his focus was on what she was doing. When she covered him with her hand, she was surprised to find that despite being in the rain, he was warm there, and growing warmer as he responded to her touch.

Amy watched and felt as her son's penis grew, gaining inches in both girth and length before her eyes and in her hand. Before long she was holding only part of him, the rest jutting out the top of her loose fist.

"Oh my," she whispered. Despite having helped him the night before, she hadn't anticipated him being so...healthy.

She ran her hand along his length a few times, feeling the veins under her fingers. His head was tight and shiny atop his shaft, his slit gaping open. Inevitable comparisons came to mind. No other lover came close to his size, not even his father. Despite her rationalization that she was helping, Amy knew she was more than a little intrigued by the sexual organ in her hand.

Another stroke, and Chris let out a quiet gasp. She tore her eyes from the towering tool to look up at his face. He was red, mouth agape and staring at her. Not where she held him, but her face and chest. Amy felt the weight of his eyes on her breasts, and was confused. It was easy to sink into the role of helper, someone here to solely assist and nothing else, but his interest in her was reinforcing her own desires.

Closing her heart to it, she bent to the task at hand: making her son warm and happy. A few more strokes of her hand along his shaft produced more low sounds from his throat. As she watched, a bead of clear fluid appeared in his slit, growing with each slow pump of her hand until it got too big and dripped down his glans and onto her thumb. Despite her need to remain aloof, Amy could feel herself responding to the feel of his hard cock, and the smell of his musk filling the air between them. A tingle grew in her privates, spreading to her chest and face.

Chris suddenly let out a louder moan. She had time to notice that he grew in her hand, and then he was shooting into the air between them before raining down onto his bare thighs and Amy's arms. She kept slowly pumping, not letting up while he jerked and squirmed in front of her.

Six, seven, eight times Chris' cock expanded in her hand, each time delivering a volley of come into the air, until it started running down his shaft, coating her hand. His scent filled the cabin and her lungs, fully waking her nascent desires - she wanted more, but knew she shouldn't.

Amy looked from the still hard cock in her hand up to Chris' red face. He was looking right back at her, a wild look in his eyes.

Without word or warning, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Amy froze for a second, surprised, and then responded. Her lips softened, and she kissed him back reflexively. His mouth on hers felt amazing. Her thoughts melted away, and she sat still, not moving anything but her mouth. Tingles swept down her chest to her nipples, her already warm puss growing moist in her panties. She hadn't felt this in years...the thought made her pull away with a gasp.

"Um," she said, staring at Chris in shock. When he made a move towards her again, she scrambled back. "I, uh, I have to clean up," she stammered, standing up. Finding his wet shirt, she used it to wipe her hand and arm, giving it to him when she was done.

As he followed suit, she put some dry clothes on the bed next to him, saying, "Put these on, I'll get dinner started."

Mind fogged by the last few minutes, Amy got some water heating on the stove and pulled noodles out. She had a jar of sauce but only one pot, so she'd have to take it in turns to cook the food. As she worked, thoughts started to surface, and she fought to not think of what she'd just done.

What had started out as a simple desire to help him had - nope, she wasn't thinking about it.

Why had she - stop it.

All the while, Chris was laying on the bed, not talking or moving. It was so unusual that she checked on him and found him asleep, curled into a ball. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, she allowed herself to relax.

Puttering around the cabin, the rain tippling away at the roof, Amy breathed carefully, willing her body to calm down. She could feel a stickiness in her panties where her arousal had leaked out, matching the ache of need in her chest. A casual brush against her nipples sent a ripple of tingling to her pussy. Stop.

Leaving the water to slowly come to a boil, Amy went to the stuffed chair. Sinking into it, she let the thoughts she'd been blocking out come to the fore.

So what if she did that? There's plenty worse she could do as a mother. The simple fact was, she'd offered her help, and he accepted. When she examined that, there was little shame at all. The conflict came from inside of her, from her own reaction to the act and the kiss. She got carried away, her body blossoming, mind melting, submitting to her carnal need to feel passion again.

It had been months since she'd felt even a glimmer of desire in her marriage. Months of empty beds and cold shoulders, followed by the revelation that her husband had cheated on her with his secretary. It came as such a shock, she'd had to get away, get space to think, or to not think, whatever she needed. Paradoxically she didn't want to be alone, and so convinced Chris to come as well, and here they were.

Thinking of Peggy's diary and her story of finding passion after being in a loveless marriage, made Amy realize it could be a powerful force. Both Amy and her husband had been in that place, separate and together, and so was it surprising he had succumbed? Her reaction just now spoke of how love starved she was, and how easy it could be to just...let it happen. Jason was an asshole, for sure, but upon reflection maybe not the biggest asshole in the world.

The day's light slowly drained away as Amy mourned her long dead marriage. She'd assumed she would be out for blood once she got over the shock of his infidelity, but instead found herself empathizing. Distance and time gave her the perspective she needed to see Jason had bowed to the inevitable, effectively freeing them both from their marital chains. How could she do anything but thank him?

Feeling an internal knot loosen, Amy took a deep breath and let it out. Things were far from perfect, but at least she could move on. She got up to find the water boiling and got going with dinner.

A while later, she woke Chris.

"Thanks, Mom," he said, rolling out of bed to join her at the table. "Guess I was tired."

"I guess so," she agreed. Unspoken in her head was the thought that one's first sexual experiences tended to be draining.

They ate in silence, turning the lamp on once it became too dark. They played more cards, their awkward exchanges easing gradually, and by the time it was lights out, Amy felt like they'd gotten back to their normal banter. Part of her wanted to discuss what they'd done - what she'd done - but couldn't find the words. How did you ask your son if he was okay with a sexual act?

When they were done with cards, Amy took a chair out to the porch to listen to the rain in the dark. It was growing on her, to not be able to see anything, just relying on hearing, which was taken up with the white noise of the rain. She was comfortable in her hoodie and warm pants, so stayed there for a while, letting her thoughts roam free.

It was quite a move for Peggy to go from married, to jerking off her son, to living with him in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, pregnant. How did she get from one to the other?

Amy thought of what Josh's kiss had done for Peggy, equating it to her own surge of desire when Chris kissed her. Given her recent lack of physical touch, it made sense she responded the way she did, but that didn't make it right. He was her son, for goodness sake.

Sitting in the dark, she looked out into nothingness and forced herself to stop thinking of it. She'd lived up to her word and repeated the act he craved so much. They had two more days before they were to be picked up, so they just needed to get through that and they'd be back to normal, in the world they belonged to, instead of Peggy and Josh's hedonistic love den.

When she had had enough of the outdoors, she called into the cabin to see if Chris had changed. He had, so they swapped to let her get into her PJs. There was part of her that pondered sleeping in the clothes she was wearing, but she knew it wouldn't be comfortable.

Stripping her bra off, she almost cried out in relief. Each full day of wearing it was causing the rub points to get more and more painful. The thought of putting it back on was torturous, so she delayed the decision while changing her bottoms.

Amy thought about changing her panties, as the ones she was wearing were still wet where she leaked into them, but didn't have enough to get through the weekend if she did. An oversight to not pack more, but how was she to know she'd be making puddles in them while on a secluded getaway with her son, mourning her marriage?

The thought was ridiculous.

Even just the brief time of being without a bra had her tits feeling much better, so she left it off and put her PJ top on. It would be dark enough that Chris wouldn't be able to see anything.

"All done," she called, and stood waiting for Chris to climb into bed. In the bed, under the covers, Amy closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, which thankfully was quick in arriving. As she drifted off, she reflected that the afternoon hand job must have been enough for Chris.

***

Amy woke before her son again. This time, as soon as her eyes opened she was reaching for the diary.

June 11, 1970

There's a lot to be said for anticipation. After that night with George, which was to be our last together as man and wife (though I didn't know it at the time) I woke knowing what to do. I sent him on his way to work, signaling to Josh that he should stay behind a minute. He'd be late for work, but not by much, and what I had to say was important.

When George was truly gone, I turned to my son and opened my arms for him, and he took me in his. After only a half day waiting for my son's kisses, it was like heaven to feel them on my lips. Both my heart and my panties flooded with desire. If he hadn't had to work, I would have had him right there in the kitchen.

With regret, I sent him on his way with a promise that I would accept his kisses again, and more if he wanted. The way his face lit up told me everything he wanted.

Amy had to pause then, to take a breath. It was such a simple tale, but the depth to which Peggy had fallen spoke to her need. She found it affecting her, her nipples erect, close to where Chris' arm was wrapped around her middle. It would only require a movement of inches and he could have his hand on her tits. Her heart flipped in her chest at the thought.

I spent the day planning. I packed up a few things I would need, having decided to spend some time at my mother's. George would have no objection, I knew, for apart from being a regular hole to pump away at, he had little use for me.

When I arrived at my mother's, bags in tow, I went to my old room and unpacked. I left a message at Josh's work letting him know where he could find me, and waited.

That evening, my son arrived and gave me a big hug, lifting me high. When he saw his grandmother sitting nearby, he blushed and put me down, but she just smiled and said she was headed out, to give us some privacy.

As soon as we were alone, I took Josh to my old room. His erection was visible, and I knew my own arousal would be obvious to him soon. He took me in his arms and kissed me, like I had been dreaming of, and I was his.

I hesitate to write more here. The words to describe the love we shared that day and that night don't exist. I gave myself to him in every way, and he gave of himself equally. By morning, I was no longer his mother, or rather, not only his mother.

We stayed there in my old room for a few days, learning what we could teach each other. My mother covered for us, until she could no longer, and we left. We are now in my uncle's cabin while we decide where to go. Aunt Mary brings us food, and we spend our days making love.

Amy squirmed in the circle of Chris' arm, imagination swimming at what Peggy and Josh had done in this very bed. As she lay in thought, she felt the now familiar prodding at her backside that spoke of Chris' burgeoning erection. Just as she was going to write it off as a sleep erection, she felt a pressure. A bump. A thrust, if only in the vaguest sense.

It was enough. Amy felt heat gather in her pussy, warming her lips. Squeezing her thighs together pressed against her clit, sending a wave of pleasure through her pelvis. The movement caused her to bump back on the rigid rod pressing into her crack. Her panties, taut over her cheeks, slowly contracted under the pressure, letting him reach her rear hole. Once again, he was knocking on her back door, but this time she didn't retreat from it.

Not having had any release the day before, her body prepared itself for pleasure. Moisture formed, trickling from her vagina. Nipples hardened, nothing covering them but flannel. Saliva flooded Amy's mouth, a sure sign she was primed for fucking.

But this wasn't Jason, or any other lover, this was her son. Amy closed her eyes, almost whimpering with the effort to tamp down her excitement. No matter how much she needed to be touched, kissed, loved, caressed and fucked, she couldn't let it happen. Giving Chris a couple hand jobs was not an excuse to get carried away.

Regretfully, Amy rolled out of bed for the second day in a row to escape her son's questing penis. Once again, she went out into the rain - did it ever stop - to run to the outhouse. Sitting on the cold wooden seat, clouded breath in the air, the distant sound of her pee tinkling below her, she tried to let her pent up desires dissipate. It wasn't easy, but the cold helped.

They had one more day and night to get through, and they could be back in the real world.

When she got back to the cabin, she found her son still sleeping in the bed, so she sat in the stuffed chair and curled up as best she could with the diary.

July 15, 1970

We are still at the cabin. We expected to have moved on by now, but it is harder than we thought. My mother is collecting some money to send us out east, where we can live anonymously, but says it could take some time.

The days are filled with Josh's attempts to farm, and my photography. Mother sent me my old camera, and I've been taking some photos. Aunt Mary says she will get them developed in town, she knows someone. It's a way to fill the days, although I have little film.

It's been a month or so since we arrived here, and I think the stress of the change, while wonderful in itself, has affected my cycle. I'm crossing my fingers that is all it is.

August 17, 1970

No word on how long we will be here. Mother visited us and brought food and news. George has filed for divorce, and is dating a barroom waitress. She asked after us, and I knew she meant if Josh and I were still intimate.

I still yearn for his touch. I desire him more now than I did when we first moved to this desolate cabin, and Josh seems to match my interest. We go days completely nude, taking turns to pleasure each other. I couldn't say all of that, so I just nodded. She accepted it with a smile, and told me I'm a good mother.

I fear I may be a mother again, soon.

September 4, 1970

I suppose it's no use hiding it from here. I am pregnant. We have been here for three months, and while we did our best, we weren't careful enough. Despite my earlier fears, once I accepted my situation, I became quite happy.

Josh's desires seem to have grown since he found out, and constantly seeks me out for pleasure. I am happy to oblige, and he finishes inside of me freely, now that it doesn't matter.

I have been unable to keep much food down for the last few weeks. Josh is worried, but I told him I was the same when I was pregnant with him. It should subside soon. He is very protective, which is a welcome change from George's involvement when I was last pregnant.

October 31, 1970

It is Halloween, but there aren't any children coming knocking on our door, and we haven't decorated. We spent the day indoors, cuddling and reading. I am showing now, a belly bump growing. Josh adores it, constantly caressing and kissing me there. Sometimes he moves his kisses lower, and I proclaim my satisfaction for his oral prowess long and loud. There is no one to hear.

We have been trying names for the boy or girl when it arrives. I hope we can move east before then, to somewhere more comfortable for a newborn. I am partial to George, which makes Josh's head spin. I like the name, and feel it deserves a new owner to cleanse it.

Josh had some crops come in, a few small carrots, but he is happy.

My mother is due to visit soon, according to my calendar.

December 5, 1970

I am big. Not as big as I will get, but it's getting awkward to move. We are making love less often, but I still pleasure him with a few tugs of my hand.

My breasts are tender all of the time. Josh likes to play at suckling, and I feel he may compete with the baby when they arrive. I will have enough, if that is his desire.