The Cabin

January 10, 1971

We are leaving soon! Mother is bringing us money and bus tickets, and we will be going east, to Chicago. I can't wait. As lovely as it's been, having this time with Josh, away from society, I need to be back in the world.

Josh will look for work, and we will pretend at being husband and wife. I love my new life.

Mystery reader, whoever you should be, know that I regret nothing. Being with Josh is the most wonderful part of my life, and I experience joy every day. We have gotten used to expressing our love fully, as I am pregnant, and I'm not sure I'll be able to change that after the baby arrives. He says he wants a big family. I'm not so sure. I feel as big as this cabin, and not as young as when I had my first child. We'll see.

Amy looked up from the diary, lost in thought, imagining the life of Peggy and her son. They had obviously had a lot of support from their family, enabling them to live a happy life out here, and in Chicago. She hoped they had lived a good life. It was funny that reading the account of her life allowed Amy to set aside any prejudices she might have towards their lifestyle. It opened her eyes to what was possible, despite society's stance on it.

Her hoodie wasn't enough to keep her warm, even huddled in the chair. There was no fire in the stove, and Chris didn't show any signs of waking up. She looked at him, asleep and cozy, and felt a stab of envy. She contemplated joining him, weighing the benefit of warmth against the awkwardness of potentially being jabbed in the butt.

Amy discarded the awkward aspect and stood up, stripping her hoodie off and lifting the quilt. Chris didn't protest as she lifted his arm and lay down next to him under the covering. Warmth filled her immediately, and she sighed her contentment. This was worth any downsides.

The comfort and security she felt, with the drone of the rain overhead, made her drowsy, and she soon dropped off.

When she woke again, it was because Chris was stirring behind her. She came awake in time to feel his hand casually brush against the underside of her breasts, sending a tingling to her nipples. She lay still, waiting to see if he would repeat the action, but he didn't, which she found disappointed her a bit. Her breasts were so sensitive that there had been a few times when her lover had made her come just by massaging them. Never Jason.

Rolling out of the bed and blanket and his arm, Amy stood up and yawned, stretching her arms to the sky. When she glanced back at her son, and saw him staring, she instantly covered her chest, blushing furiously.

"It's okay, Mom, you don't have to hide," he said with a small grin.

"People stare if I don't hide them," she said defiantly, still covering.

"Okay, but what's wrong with that? Well, I mean some people."

"Some people like you?" she retorted, and then clammed up. An awkward silence developed between them.

"I'd like it," he said quietly.

Before replying, Amy took a moment to think. He wasn't suggesting she go topless, just braless, and it would be heaven not to wear her bra for a day, after the last stretch. "Okay. Head out to the porch, I need to get some clothes on."

Chris clambered out of bed and ducked out the door, leaving her to strip down. She changed her panties and put on warm sweatpants, and then went digging for a shirt. All she had left were a couple of long t-shirts, and when she put one on, was not shocked to see her nipples thrusting through the cloth.

She put on her hoodie, mostly hiding the bumps from her large nipples, and then went to the door to swap. She was watching for it, so wasn't surprised when his eyes dipped to her chest and up again as they passed. Amy hid a smile. Men were so predictable. In the back of her head, largely ignored, was the fact it was her son looking.

Out in the fresh air, the rain had mostly calmed down. The colours of the grass and trees jumped out at her, vibrant and clear. She took several deep breaths, and went to the well to pull some water. She needed to freshen up.

Later, feeling much better, Amy returned to the cabin to find Chris putting together a cold breakfast of buttered bread and granola. She felt good, and smiled several times at her son while they ate. The world felt...better. Working through her thoughts about her marriage and her son the day before seemed to have helped her mood a lot.

"Any plans today?" she asked, half serious.

"Not really," he replied, contemplatively. "I've explored all the trails. I'll get the stove going and pile up the wood, but after that I'm out of ideas. Cards?"

"We can definitely play some cards. Maybe after lunch? I want to do a bit of reading."

"Sure."

Finishing up, he went about his chores while Amy cleaned up the dishes. They didn't have any soap, but a good rinsing seemed just as good. Afterwards, she grabbed the diary and settled in.

January 15, 1971

This will be my last entry in this secluded cabin. Tomorrow we head out, and not a minute too soon. My mother brought us money and tickets, and news that George may have found out where we are. I thought that having divorced me, he would not want anything more, but mother says he has been asking around town. We need to leave, to get a fresh break.

I am very close to being due, I know it. We haven't been to a doctor, but the pregnancy has been very smooth. Mother brought a doula to see me a few times, and she said I am doing fine. I'm sure in Chicago we can see someone to ensure a safe delivery.

Farewell, dear reader. Thank you for hearing my story, and I hope you have as much joy in your life as what I now have in mine.

The next page was blank, as were the rest of them. Amy never imagined it would have a cliffhanger ending. What happened to Peggy and Josh? Why was the diary in the cabin, if they went to Chicago? A chill went up her spine, as her imagination went wild. Did George find them? Did something happen?

An ache formed in her heart at the sad implications, and she hoped that the couple had found their way to happiness far away.

Her morning plan thwarted, Amy set about tidying just in time for Chris to come stomping in with an arm load of wood. He set it down and went for another load, so she arranged the logs in a pile against the wall.

When her son got back, he set to the fire making, and soon warmth was filling the tiny building. A kind of sadness lingered from the abrupt end of the diary, and Chris must have noticed.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He was squatting in front of the stove, warming his hands.

"Yeah. My book was sad."

"What are you reading?"

"Um, just a diary type story. The woman runs away from her husband but he finds her and drags her home again."

"Oh. That is sad. Want to play cards then?"

"Sure...um, can I have a hug first?"

"Of course." Chris stood up and she stood to meet him. In the small open area between bed, chair, table and stove, they met and embraced. Amy buried her head in his chest, her breasts squishing between them. It was a nice hug, firm and warm, just the way she liked it, and his arms were strong as he held her. When she looked up to thank him, he leaned in and kissed her, as natural and easy as anything.

Amy didn't freeze this time, nor did her body do anything she didn't want. Just feeling his lips on hers was thrilling in a way she hadn't felt in decades. When he pulled away, she almost pulled him back.

"I love you, Mom," he said quietly.

"I love you, too." She put her head back on his chest.

They stayed there, hugging lightly. When they pulled back, she looked up at him again, taking in his lips still moist from their kiss. This time it was her who pushed forward, and after a bit, opened her mouth to dart her tongue out. A thrill ran through her when she tasted him, and another when he met her tongue with his.

Their hug grew firmer, standing in the middle of the cabin. She was clutching to him, pressing her chest to his, feeling the pressure on her tits. She could feel herself responding to it all, and wasn't surprised when she felt a poke in her midsection, indicating his response.

"Would you like...help, again?" she asked. It felt remarkably easy to offer, and she was looking forward to feeling his penis in her hand.

Wordlessly, he stepped to the bed, and she followed. When he simply dropped his pants and underwear, she was happy to see him there, thrusting towards her. She took him in hand, his heat and rigidity still startling. Instead of sitting, he leaned in for another kiss, which she eagerly returned.

Hand stroking, tongue tracing his lips, Amy felt he would probably not last very long.

"Wait," he said. "I want to see you."

"No," she protested, as he reached for the hem of her hoodie. "I don't mind helping you. Let's just do it quickly and we can play some cards."

He ignored her, and lifted, and she briefly struggled before letting him go. Her cheeks burned hotter with each stretch of skin revealed, until the cool air hit her breasts when her top lifted off over her head. She was exposed in front of her son. Her rock hard nipples strained from her flesh, begging for attention.

Jason had never been a breast man, or at least, not her breasts. She waited for a hint that Chris was disappointed or uninterested, like his father, but he just stopped moving, eyes wide.

Amy tried to cover herself up, suddenly ashamed. "I know they're not the best..." she tried.

Chris recovered enough to lift an eyebrow. "Are you serious? You're joking, right? Mom, you are amazing." He gently took her wrists in hand, moving them away.

Amy looked down at her tits, trying to see them with his eyes. They sagged a bit, but her nipples still reached for the sky. Her areola were crinkled and bumpy, nipples dark, hard nubs.

"Can I?" he asked.

She shrugged, so he palmed her there gently. His warm hands on sensitive skin sent a thrill through her body. Lightning hit her nipples when his thumbs rolled over the tips. "Your dad didn't like them..." she whispered, ashamed.

"Dad is an idiot," Chris stated, like it was a known fact. He squeezed her, exploring the slopes, swells and curves. Eyes flickering to her, as if for permission, he leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly. A thrill roared through her, and she ached for more.

"Harder," she moaned.

He did, taking more of her flesh in his hot mouth and sucking firmly. It sent a spike of painful pleasure to her core, and she had to grab his head to keep him there.

"Harder," she hissed.

Taking a deep breath, Chris drew hard, and Amy screamed as she came. His mouth worked her nipple, as if to drink from it, and each draw sent a mini-orgasm through her. She flooded her panties, finally coming after being teased for so long. It wasn't his fault, but he was sure doing his best to fix it.

Amy grabbed her son by the ears and moved him to her other breast, where he latched on. Another hard pulse of pressure, and she came again, the flood in her panties growing larger. As she climaxed, she held him to her, not letting him go until she could take a breath.

The breath turned into another one, shakier than the last. She had to sit down, so took the step to the bed and flopped down. Curling up under the quilt, she closed her eyes and wallowed in the aftershocks. She barely registered Chris climbing over her and joining her under the blanket. Hardly noticed his hot flesh on hers as he cuddled up behind her. Hardly felt his arm snake around her chest and settle on her wet tit, a club poking her butt.

When she'd calmed down enough, she shimmied back into him, noting what she'd missed: his warm chest against her back. Reaching behind her, she felt his hips were bare. Reaching further, she found the hard club poking her butt. She fondled him there, happy to play a bit, matching touch to memory of each vein and ridge.

Chris' hand roamed, coming to rest on the waistband of her sweats. When he started to tug, she lifted her hips and let him push her clothing down. It was the work of a second to finish with her feet, joining him in nudity. It felt right, to be cuddled up naked, hot skin on skin.

Thinking of the wonderful pleasure he'd given her, she thought to return the favour. She formed the ring with her hand again, right below his glans, and gave a gentle tug.

Chris groaned behind her, and gave his first thrust into her welcoming grasp. A few thrusts later, Amy knew it wasn't enough. Taking a deep breath, and thinking of Peggy and Josh in this very bed, she lifted her leg. Pushing his cock down, she popped it between her thighs and clamped them together.

He took no time to resume his pumping, only now he was rubbing along her wet labia. The friction drove her wild, causing her hips to jerk involuntarily and screw up his rhythm. He grabbed her, holding her still with his strong arms and resumed.

It wasn't enough. Amy needed to feel him...where he shouldn't be. Time seemed to stand still, as Amy teetered on the edge of a decision. It would be so easy to justtilt her hips, and present herself to him, silently requesting...

As soon as the thought occurred, she acted. On his next retreat, she moved just so, placing her soaking wet entrance in his path. On his return, he found it.

Amy was so wet, she thought Chris would just slip in, but she'd never had anyone of his size before, and there was no way it could do that. When he hit her entrance, he stopped dead, and Amy let out a loud groan of pain and pleasure.

"Are you okay?" he asked, worried.

"Yes, I just didn't expect..." she managed. He was still there, tip perched at the brink of heaven, so she pushed back, mouth agape as she felt how wide her pussy stretched to take him in. She kept pushing, and he kept stretching, until his head was in her, and then an inch, and then she stopped, amazed at how full she felt already.

Chris picked up where she left off, grabbing her hip and pushing. Amy felt sure it was too much, until she felt the tickle of his hair balls on her ass, and the tip of his cock hit her cervix. Amy had never felt this before. She was full in a way she had never experienced, and didn't want it to end.

"Don't move," she urged.

"I can't," he protested, and then she felt it. What he couldn't do, was hold back his orgasm.

Impossibly, she felt him grow inside of her and then he gasped as his first shot of semen entered her pussy, followed by another and another. He was groaning and grinding behind her as he emptied his balls into her, splashing his load against her cervix.

Cervix. Amy felt like there was something there, a reason why what he was doing was important, but all she could do was lay in the cradle of her son's arms, snuggled up to his chest, with his cock buried deep inside her. Closing her eyes, she could feel him there, expanding with each load delivered.

She didn't begrudge his quick finish, he'd already given her an excellent orgasm, and he was young. With a wave of dizziness, Amy realized she had just taken her son's virginity.

When he'd calmed down, they stayed as they were, joined by their sexes. She could feel his heart jackhammering against her back, his quick breathing against her neck. Glad that he hadn't withdrawn, Amy squeezed with her kegels, giving him a very private hug.

"Oh my god," he said, mouth by her ear.

She did it again.

"Jesus." He gave a tentative thrust into her grasping pussy, sending a surge of desire through her. Juices leaked around his shaft, dripping down her thigh. It was surreal and sexy at the same time.

Soon she felt him retreat from her sex, and a flood followed in his wake. Amy quickly leaned over the edge to grab a shirt, handing it to him. "Wipe up, please."

He did, cleaning his spend from his dick and her legs and lips, tossing the wet cloth over the edge when he was done.

Amy wiggled back into him, not willing to think too hard about what they'd just done, and not wanting the cuddles to stop, but eventually, she had to say something.

"I hope it was okay, for your first time." She was unaccountably nervous he might be disappointed.

"I'll never forget it," he said, his voice full of sincerity and appreciation. He squeezed her, then gently cupped a breast.

She purred her approval, pressing her tit into his palm. They lay there, warm and naked, his hand exploring every inch of her breast. Her nipples stayed hard, and he played with them until Amy felt a stirring behind her.

She waited for him to achieve full erection before lifting her leg again and welcoming him back into her sopping cunt. He fucked her like that, slowly, lasting much longer the second time, until she came on his cock.

"Fuck, Mom," he grunted when she did, as her core tightened up, squeezing and gripping the invader inside her. Between the pleasure of his hand on her nipple and his cock spreading her wide, she came long and hard.

To her surprise, he kept at her after she came, continuing to fuck for a few more minutes. Just as she thought she might go again, he tensed up and delivered his second load.

His cock slipped from her pussy just as sleep took her down for a nap.

***

Cervix. Amy woke up from her sex nap, and the first word in her brain was where Chris had just dumped two tablespoons of semen. She wasn't on birth control, hadn't been intimate with her husband in months, and now she was playing fast and loose with her fertility? Stupid, Amy, very stupid.

She quickly calculated how long it had been since her last period, and decided she was safe for now. Tuesday she could get a plan b, and she'd count this as a wake up call to be smarter. She'd be single soon, and she couldn't rely on her husband's low sperm count.

Amy rolled off the bed and started to pull clothes on. She desperately needed to pee. When she grabbed her bra, she hesitated before dropping it again.

"Good choice," Chris said from the bed. .

She smiled and tugged a shirt and hoodie on, feeling her son's eyes on her tits until they left his view.

Running through the rain, Amy made it to the outhouse in time to not pee herself. Sitting on the cold wood, she shook her head. What had she done? Why had she done it? It had to be Peggy's diary putting thoughts into her head. There's no way she would have even imagined touching her son without that influence.

Amy's face warmed as she recalled what he, they, had done in vivid detail. As if to prove she hadn't dreamed it all, a stream of warm goo trickled from her, down into the hole. Chris' semen, shot far up inside her, now draining. A hot flash ran from her pussy to her tits to her face, as the realization hit hard - she'd fucked her son.

She waited as long as she could on that cold, hard seat to make sure as much of his come dripped from her as possible. When she was sure it was done, she took one of the soft cloths and wiped, noticing that it did a good job of picking up the traces of semen still clinging to her labia.

When she got back to the cabin, she found him still in bed, under the quilt. "Are you hungry?" she asked. It was probably past noon, but their schedule had been screwed up by a midday nap.

Chris grinned, and said, "Hungry for you."

"Oh..."

"Oh? That doesn't sound good. Are you okay?" He sat up, letting the blanket fall from his torso.

Amy smiled to see his muscular chest and arms bare; he was a good looking man. Shaking her head, she replied, "Yes, I'm fine, it's just...we shouldn't have done that."

A flicker of sadness crossed his face. He nodded. "I guess. It...well, I thought you liked it."

"Hon, don't. Of course I liked it," she said, quickly. "It was wonderful, but you're my son...it's not a good idea, in any shape or form."

"Why? We're both adults. You didn't pressure me, and we both enjoyed it."