tagIncest/TabooMaking My Mother Pregnant

Making My Mother Pregnant


Author's Note: This is a romance story of the ages. It is not a meaningless story of sex, but an eloquent exploration of forbidden seduction, magnificent consummation, and triumph between a mother and her son. It is meant for readers who enjoy the details of the art of seduction, and the everlasting thrill of impregnating a woman a man deeply loves.

In this story, you will not read about how big my penis is or even see my name for I felt the reader to would experience the accomplishments "first hand" without those unnecessary deviations.


Chapter 1 -- The Burden Of Loving Your Mother

Chapter II -- Indecent Proposal

Chapter III -- Hawaii

Chapter IV -- Disclosure

Chapter V -- Marriage

Chapter VI -- Making Love to My Wife

Chapter VII -- Afterglow

Chapter VIII -- The Big Prize

Chapter VIIII – Fulfillment



I suffer from a pregnancy fetish, I admit. It's been a lifelong affliction, but only recently have I come to embrace this obsession as what makes me who I am. If that labels me as weird or strange, so be it. It's something undeniable I feel I was born with.

I know that's odd for a guy who's just 21, a college football player, and overall a good student who's been told he's a handsome strapping young guy by the few girls he's dated. Most of my friends are terrified of becoming "tied down" to one girl in a marriage, going to many lengths to prevent, what I feel, is a beautiful and timeless honor for any man to share with a woman he so desperately loves. That perspective seems to be pretty much a forgotten prospect these days.

You're probably wondering about the title. Mom's name is Marilyn, and she is a captivating, glowing young woman that just turned 40 last month. It's easy to describe her to you as one of the world's most attractive women, and in my eyes she truly is. Mom stands at 5'6", and carries her rubenesque, hourglass body with the grace and elegance of a classic Hollywood starlet. I emphasize "hourglass" by virtue of its alluring, captivating spell it cast over me as a teenager. Her skin gleams with a lush beige tone-- supple and firm in part to a lifestyle of health and fitness. Her dark brown hair drops about her silky shoulders, cascading downward as if a tropical waterfall at dawn... I swear one day I am hiring a sculptor to cast her as a statue, much like the Romans did in honor of their Goddesses of fertility.

Mom and I are blessed with an openly candid relationship. Much of that came from my father's death when I was all but five, leaving me a nice inheritance that I could only touch upon my 21st birthday, which had just happened. My father held a patent on a chemical invention that left us both with no financial worries, but mom kept her career going as a lawyer, and is now a partner in a prestigious local firm. I have to confess that seeing mom in her sexy tight business suits has been the focus of many late night/early morning jerk offs that got me through the never-ending chaos of my adolescence.

The day I realized I wanted to make my mother pregnant was about six months ago. I had been seeing a girl here at school who reminded me of mom in many ways. I didn't realize their similarities until later. While my passion for both pregnancy and my mother had not yet been realized, it was when I was making love to my girlfriend that I became aware of how deep I was shoving myself into her when I came. It was like stepping out of myself and watching a guy hell bent on sending his seed into the deepest regions of a woman's womb. I lifted her up by those luscious child bearing hips-- an animalistic vehemence overtook me-- to reach an even greater depth as the joys of orgasm split my flesh apart. One clear thought suddenly became indisputable... I wanted to knock her up. I wanted to claim her as my own woman, ensuring she would never leave me, EVER. I wanted the force of my seed to revoke the potency of the birth control she was on. At that remarkable instant, I had discovered the primal essence of my true self... the fearless bravery of my raw nature to consume, impregnate, and make this woman mine for all eternity.

Of course, the days and weeks passed with no news of conception that I had hoped for. Thankfully, there was good reason why it didn't happen.

After that moment of ecstasy, I started exploring my desires online, spending a lot of time watching porn and reading erotica stories. The videos I watched held a magnificent importance as I imagined the couples fucking each other for the sole purpose of creating a living, breathing testament to their sordid love affair. Stumbling across an erotic story site, I searched for all stories that involved pregnancy, and spent many nights in my apartment masturbating to the awe-inspiring tales of other men planting their seed. It was when I came across a story titled "A Tale of Forbidden Love" that changed absolutely everything.

The story centered on a young guy like myself who was helplessly in love with his mother. By this point in my life, I had buried my teenage urges for mom, scoffing them off as just a passing crush. I sat up to read this story with the zeal of ten thousand men, reading every sacred word of this story's unimaginable romance. My heart beat like no other time in my life, as my breath was shallow with excitement. I had never seen something like this actually put to words... how the author lovingly described every immaculate kiss and embrace. Their relationship was presented in a traditional romantic prose, laced with unconditional love and a purity I had never associated incest with.

I was fully convinced that this wasn't incest... this was TRUE love in its deepest form.

My forehead was beading in perspiration, reading how the son was relishing the fulfillment of penetration... how he couldn't believe the luck he had, being back inside the very womb that created him. This was his mother! He was making love to his beloved mother! I took a deep breath and reached for my Vaseline, cupping a generous handful over my throbbing cock.

"His mother," I whispered to myself. "Oh my God."

I shuddered as the first strokes galvanized my fiery will. I promptly went back to the story to read where the mother was affectionately welcoming her son's intrusion. And hell, not just welcoming, but ENCOURAGING him with shocking verbiage. My God, I wasn't ALONE in my thoughts!! I had found someone else who FELT this way. I luxuriated in that surreal reality as it felt so fucking good to delicately stroke my cock, taking my sweet time in my newfound taboo, or should I say-- now my sole purpose in life. Honestly, it felt like I was a virgin all over again.

That night changed my life forever. Figuratively AND literally.


I had to hatch a plan. I started to make up the pros and cons of taking my own mother to bed as my lover. The pros were that she and I already had a very open relationship, and that we could talk about pretty much everything. Mom had even told me about the birds and the bees, doing the job of my father as she wove a wonderful web of enchantment, mystery, and true love. One thing she said that stuck with me was "never take a woman to bed that you wouldn't marry". Oh my God, how true that statement was, especially now. I asked myself over and over again if I could really love my mother as a woman... as my equal. I had to make absolutely sure.

The cons were her career and our lives. If news of this ever got out, everything would be ruined. But with great risk comes even greater reward. I had little convincing to do to myself, but with mom, this would take time and patience. Understanding and sacrifice. Love without conditions.

The first step would be changing the little things. At home one weekend, I started calling her "mother" instead of "mom". I opened the car door for her, cleaned the house and went out of my way for her. I kept my efforts low enough to make her notice, but not say anything. As any guy can tell you, a son truly knows his mother in ways no other man, husband or father can't. I began to think of this as "the perfect seduction".

Mom caught me on the way out the door that Sunday night heading back to college.

"Why did you start calling me 'mother', honey?" she timidly asked.

I smiled, seeing the familiar shimmer of curiosity in her sapphire eyes.

"Because it's respectful-- proper," I answered. "It just... sounds nicer."

Mother returned my smile with one of her own.

"It does, doesn't it?" she responded. "Always the perfect gentleman."

"I love you, mother." I voiced with no smile or smirk... "So much".

She embraced me as I felt the fires of my love for her surge. I held her just a little longer and a little closer than usual, taking the time in inhale the intoxicating aroma of her fragrant hair. I purred, tightening my arms about her even more.

"Oooooh baby," she cooed. "That feels so nice."

"Patience." I reminded myself.

"Hugs are always good." I said, resuming the role of the demure son.

Mom leaned back, brushing my hair with her hands. I could sense the torrent of incestuous desire ebb away as I held back. I didn't want to rush this.

"Call me when you get there." She said.

"I always do." I said with a smile as I went to my car.

All the way back to my apartment, I went back to our hug and how good it felt with her in my arms. I knew she felt it too... she HAD to. I drove home with no music or phones. The deafening passions in my head was enough... I felt good about my efforts, encouraged by the little things I did for her. I began imagining what our first time would be like together; assuming the perfect seduction worked in my favor. I began thinking about what would make her even happier... some roses? A secret admirer card? An anonymous e-mail?

I had it... mom LOVED to travel. Her favorite place was Oahu, Hawaii. She and I went there when I was in ninth grade and I never saw her happier. It was the first time I ever saw mom's succulent, rubenesque body in a bikini. For me, that was when I saw mom as a real woman... a beautiful and stunning goddess that captivated me. I recalled how her glistening skin looked in the hot sun... how gorgeous and round her wide ass was. I had sunglasses on, getting a free pass to stare at her mystifying backside for hours. She and I were lying out in the sun together as I positioned myself so I could look like I was asleep, but secretly studying every sweeping curve of her fertile backside.

I studied how her back dipped down from her shoulders, sliding downhill before the crest of her honeyed ass arched skyward. The high angle of that delicious curve was what enchanted me. How the hot sun baked her flesh... the suntan lotion giving her skin a glossy sheen to it. It splayed outward, forming two perfectly brown buns of golden ass. Wide, full, and... well, big. I don't mean fat, but mom just had a great looking set of ripe, full globes. I must have stared at that mouthwatering ass for hours. I didn't play out any fantasies while looking, but just laid there in awe of how beautiful my mother Marilyn truly was. I loved the width... I loved how amazing she looked. Little did I know then that I was picking up on her vivid fertility.

What a better place to declare my sinful confession and make Marilyn pregnant.

The next day, I transferred some money out of my trust fund to get our vacation booked. I used Expedia to book everything, First Class and in a plush beachside bungalow. Mom had some time off as I printed off our complete itinerary and couriered them over to her office to surprise her. I got the call two hours later when she returned from lunch, giddy as a teenaged girl on her first date. Listening to mother's delighted reactions made me realize just how important her happiness was to me. When she was happy, I was happy. And as I hung up, I really began to comprehend what true love was all about... it wasn't about me or my goal to bed my mother. It was all about her.

The five-day trip was in a month, and I passed the time by planning out the daily schedule of our visit. I had us going on bike rides, long hikes, and several intimate, romantic dinners for every night. I also decided to quit jerking off as to save up my stamina and seed, which hopefully would be put to good use at our place at the beach. It was perfect... no one on either side of us for ten miles. As the date approached, mother's phone calls to me doubled, even tripled. She would call just to ask what she should bring, or what to wear... silly things, but to me, they were as endearing as she was. I loved listening to her melodic voice...

Our trip began as mother didn't sleep at all the night before. Thankfully I had reserved us in First Class as we took advantage of all the free alcohol and food. By the time we reached our connection in LA, mother and I were well passed inebriated. I made a few mental notes as to what I could do to persuade her in Hawaii... and alcohol was looking to provide some serious help. Mom was holding my hand longingly by the time we were taking off over the Pacific. Soon after, she had my entire arm wrapped with hers as our Flight Attendant could see mom's tipsy appearance.

"Sir?" asked the flight attendant. "Can I get your wife a blanket or something?"

I about died right there. Wow... someone thought my mother was my wife. The immediate swell of lifelong pride and jubilation made my heart almost stop.

"Sure." I replied, tightening my hold on mother's hand.

Mom's head was on my shoulder, slipping in and out of sleep.

"Honey?" she started. "Did I just hear... that... she... well, asked if I was your wife?"

I took in a long deep breath, trying to summon whatever courage I could find.

"Yea." I said with hesitant bravery.

"Awwwwwww," mother slothfully uttered. "That's so sweet."

I swallowed back my apprehension in one big gulp, leaning over to kiss mother's forehead. As I did, I whispered "I'd love for you to be my wife."

"Oooooh baby." Mother cooed. "You'd be my first choice for a husband."

I closed my eyes with my lips sealed to her forehead, basking in the virtue of the moment. Finally... mother had endorsed my lifelong ambitions. Whether it was the alcohol or the thrill of the moment, I didn't care. All that mattered was our shared confession.

"Maybe we should just play the part, you know?" I continued.

"Mmmmmmmm," mother purred, settling her head against my shoulder, redoubling her hold of my arm. "Sure, baby. But if you're my husband, then you don't leave my side."

"I promise." I replied, lifting her hand to mine for a kiss.

I couldn't believe how brave I was getting. I had just took my mother's hand and fucking kissed it!!

Mother didn't stir, just continued her purring as she drifted off to sleep.


We arrived at the cottage as I quickly put mom to bed. I was still tipsy, but was sober enough to make sure she was okay. The novelty of being in Hawaii made for a quick nap as Mom was back up in less than an hour, relishing the tropical paradise we were in.

The first two days we did the tourist attractions, riding bicycles around the island and doing all the typical things tourists do. I had to admit that bedding mom slid down the priority list as I really did enjoy seeing Hawaii like this. But, being in a tropical paradise like this really does bring out the sultry, exotic nature in human beings. Mom dressed in some awesome outfits, so revealing and dreamingly tight. She would wear her black bikini top adorned with colorful hip scarves that accentuated those gloriously wide hips I kept staring at. With her wind blown auburn hair all about her shoulders, Mom was looking incredibly hot. And her large plentiful breasts, tucked safely inside her bikini. I was beside myself, pondering how they just seemed to glow with tepid sexuality. She looked to be a free wheeling, sexy woman who was in her prime.

I made reservations at an upscale beachside restaurant on our third night there. I wanted to treat her to a night out on the beach and shower her with all the gifts and treasures of a man who was head over heels in love. I only did it to a point though, careful of not breaching that paternal threshold... at least, not yet.

Again, like on the plane, the hostess greeted us as Mr. and Mrs. Rogers, which I secretly celebrated inside as I glanced over at mom, who had the slightest smirk on her lovely face. God she looked so fucking beautiful.

After we sat down at our table, mom breached the subject...

"Okay, why is it everywhere we're going, everyone thinks we're married?" she said, sipping on her glass of water.

"I haven't the slightest clue." I answered, returning her crafty grin.

"You're not telling them we are, are you?" she grilled back.

"No," I shot back. "I wouldn't do that. Well, I mean, not without your blessing."

"Hmmm." she huffed, looking out at the majestic sapphire ocean a few yards away.

Oh... how little she knew. How much I wanted to confess it all right then and there. How much I DID want to tell the world I wanted to marry my own mother. It was an awkward moment of silence.

"Maybe we could just play the part since everybody thinks so anyway." I bravely said.

"I knew you were up to no good, mister." Mom came back, slapping my hand in a childish tap. "What is it with you kids and this whole cougar thing? Are we the 'flavor of the month' now?"

"Oooh no, no," I immediately denied. "This is FAR from just a fad or what's in style."

Just as the conversation hinted at the desirable direction I wanted it to go in; our brainless waitress broke in with a ridiculously sickening smile. I wanted to strangle her for ruining my progress.

After that, the conversation went nowhere near a mother/son romance, much less anything remotely personal. Damn.

The next morning, I awoke from a frustrating night of aggravation and hopelessness. It was now day four of our trip and tomorrow, we were scheduled to fly back home. Anger and dissatisfaction boiled in my blood, but as I woke up and made my way down the hall, I could hear mom on the phone. Not thinking anything of it, I couldn't help but listen...

"Yea hi, I'd like to order a car to pick my husband and I up tomorrow." She said in her low voice.

I froze in my steps...

"Yes, to the airport. We're on flight 467, Delta. Yes, 2pm. Great."

She hung up the phone as my heart was beating in my throat, nearly strangling me with the shock. Was this real? Did she just say what I had been praying for?

Mom then walked by the hall, catching me standing there in voiceless dismay. She too stopped, aware of what I had just heard. All presumed innocence, ignorance, and misgiving had been suddenly and luckily eradicated. We stood looking at each other as two adults now... no longer mother and son, but two people unexpectedly aware of a greater sense of purpose and being at that singularly consequential moment.

We both stood there, silent... looking at each other in a swirling pursuit of what to say next. I know most would pass it off as a silly little slip of the tongue... but for some reason, both Marilyn and I stood there, lock-jawed-- paralyzed by her semi-confession on the phone. All that I could think was;

"Mother?" I softly whispered.

She looked down, as if in regret.

"You don't have to say anything," I continued, taking a few steps to her. "I heard what you said."

"I didn't... mean for you to hear that." She replied, timid and bashful.

I stopped, knowing this delicate situation called for a full and honest assessment before continuing any further.

"I'd like to uhmmm," I started. "I'd like to make some coffee and uhmmm... share a few things that I think I need you to hear."

Mom's eyes batted, looking out the window, swallowing back her fear and panic.

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