It was the alcohol talking, of course and I listened. I convinced myself that no one would find out, and that anyway — no one would be interested after the initial surprise. I told myself that it all came down to how I would feel about it, and how Ben would feel. Well, I was pretty sure I knew how I felt — you won’t be surprised by that. But I also knew one thing, I’d been telling Ben for so long that we couldn’t do it. I had given him so many reasons and explanation about why we shouldn’t that the poor lad probably didn’t know up from down.
It was going to be all or nothing, I told myself. If I allowed him to fuck me this time then that was it — I would be his to fuck for the rest of our lives. I would be his little fucktoy, ready willing and desperate to spread my legs for him at any opportunity. That would be my destiny, that would be my future — if I made this choice.
Did I want to be my son’s fucktoy forever? Did I want to have to spread my legs whenever my son demanded? Damn right I fucking did, and my cunt creamed at the thought.
The alcohol was certainly starting to take affect now, and I remember that I stumbled on the kerb. I would have landed on the grass, but 2 strong hands grabbed me around my midriff and I was glad of it. OK Dammit. I was more than just glad of it. You guys reading this, know me too well. As Ben pulled me up and toward him, our bodies pressed against each other, and fuck if my nipples didn’t just ping out with excitement, braless as I was — my nipples brushed his chest and that was enough.
“Ooooh Ben.” I offered in that silly, sultry way we do when we’re drunk.
I don’t know what I expected or how I thought he’d react. I was drunk OK? Those sort of thoughts don’t come into your head when you’re that drunk. Did I want him to kiss me? Yes. Was my cunt getting wet? Dammit yes — but you weren’t surprised by that were you?
Ben seemed to hold me there forever, our mouths inches away from each other. And it seemed like time itself was standing still. I could feel his breath on my cheek, and I watched as his eyes danced around as if surveying my entire face.
My cunt ached for his touch, my mouth longed for his lips and my hands itched to hold his cock. When I think back on it now, it’s of little surprise. I was so horny and frustrated from the Kyle incident and I was so jealous of Emily. Then there was the alcohol. It was a perfect storm, and in truth my morals and my conscience were both taking a hammering.
“You… you said we can’t… not anymore.” Said Ben hesitatingly.
I knew what he meant. I had drummed it into him, ever since that incident in the garden. I had banged on and on about how it would complicate things for the both of us, how it would screw up our chances to ‘move on’. I had warned him over and over about the risks and ramifications of being caught. And then it dawned on me, not once had I said to him that I did not want to. And damn me if my son had now found the worst possible time to develop a conscience.
Ben pulled away to my dismay and we carried on walking in silence, until we finally got into halls and then up the stairs to Ben’s room. I’ll be honest, the fresh air had hit me and my mind was swimming in an alcohol fuelled haze and I was having difficulty standing.
When we got into his room, I flopped on the bed and rolled over to look at him. Maybe he could see the desire in my eyes? Maybe he just guessed that I was still horny? I don’t know.
“I mean, it’s really wrong isn’t it? And if we got caught we’d both be in big trouble right? So we really shouldn’t — should we?” Ben offered tentatively.
He was stood in the open doorway, neither in nor out of the room and he looked so handsome and masculine.
“Don’t go just yet.” I pleaded. “Come and talk to your old mum for a minute.” I giggled.
Did Ben know what was in my mind? Did he guess what my intention was? More importantly — was his new found conscience going to get in the way? Ben paused momentarily, before walking in and letting the door close behind him. My heart fluttered, and I felt my mouth suddenly get very dry with excitement.
“We really need to talk about this.” I said to Ben, sitting up and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed then patting the area by my side. Again, Ben hesitated, a little unsure.
“It’s all right. We’re just going to talk.” I assured him.
It wasn’t true of course, and you guys know that. I was going to jump his fucking bones, I was resigned to it and I was desperate for it. The dam in my emotions that had been preventing me from acting on these thoughts and desires, well they were washed away now. Replaced by a deep and passionate yearning, and desire. An excitement and anticipation; a crazy longing and a promise of pleasure beyond words. My clit was on fire and it was all I could do to stop myself from rubbing between my panty-less legs.
Ben came and sat beside me, close up as if a part of him knew the inevitability of the situation. Emily’s words from our drive down that morning still rolled around in my head. That crazy ‘YOLO’ thing that she and Steven kept going on about. What if they were right? What if I was going to end up like Uncle Hubert — saying the same sort of thing on my deathbed.
I should explain. Uncle Hubert was a friend of the family while we were growing up. He wasn’t our real Uncle but we still called him that. For the life of me I don’t know how or why he became a family friend, my eldest sister once said that he had a ‘thing’ about our Mum but I don’t know for sure.
The point about Uncle Hubert was that he was an actor — not a famous one, but enough to be in several Hollywood movies, albeit in minor roles. But he had a wit and a charm, as I remember that used to open up all sorts of avenues for him. He would often send us pictures, signed photos of him with the stars of the day. Rumour was that he had a fling with several of the upcoming actresses of the time.
He passed away a while ago, and we (Emily and I) were able to briefly talk to him on his last day. He told me something that would stay with me for ever. In reflecting on his life he said he had no regrets but did say that he wished he’d ‘laid’ more women.
Then, while Em was away getting coffee, he bid me come closer and he whispered to me that he wished he’d fucked me — that of all the actresses he’d laid, I was the one he always fantasised about. But — apparently he had promised my Mum he wouldn’t. And that — he said — was his 1 regret.
That stayed with me. Along with what he said next — which was to say that ‘None of it fucking matters. Nobody cares so just enjoy your life. Everyone ends up like this eventually’ – he had said, pointing to the fact that he was on his deathbed.
Throughout all my wild thoughts about Ben, Uncle Hubert’s words had haunted me. On my deathbed, would I be the one whispering to Ben that I wished I’d fucked him? But I was also aware that I had messed Ben around so much, with my Yes — No — Yes — No attitude to us having sex. I owed it to him to be straight and honest, and to give him the option (not that I was going to take No as an answer.)
“Ben, listen to me. Do you… do you understand why I said we should not have sex?” I asked, looking him in the eye.
Ben flinched. “I… I… yeah. You said it would fuck me up emotionally and would stop me moving on with my life because I’d always be wanting to have sex with you instead of finding a nice girl.” He offered demurely.
I smiled despite myself. “And did you believe me?” I asked innocently.
Ben’s eyes flashed wide for a moment. “I… well, I could see what you were saying.”
“Did you agree with it?” I asked, sounding a little more direct.
Again Ben shifted a little, and I took the opportunity to drop my hand onto his knee. There was a confusion and a reticence in his face but also — a look of intrigue.
I didn’t let him answer. “Did you, Do you…” I corrected, before continuing “…do you think that us having sex will stop you from moving forward with your life?” I asked.
Ben’s face turned toward me and dammit if I didn’t want to just grab him and kiss him right there and then. His face flushed a little and his face became a little coy.
“I… I… well, honestly Mum? No. I mean, I knew it would complicate things.” He replied, before then saying “but, I didn’t think it was something we couldn’t overcome.”
My heart leapt, it was exactly the answer I had hoped for. My mind was doing cartwheels and my cunt was gushing like a geyser. Despite the alcohol, I knew the seriousness of the situation and I also knew it had to be consensual from both sides. I needed to hear Ben say it, then… I’d jump his fucking bones.
“Ben, look at me.” I said, holding his chin in my fingers and swivelling his face toward mine. “What if I said that I wanted you to fuck me, that I didn’t care about what people thought or said and that I felt it was OK and something we could both just enjoy for as long as it lasts — until one of us decides they don’t want to anymore.” I asked hopefully. I knew what I wanted the answer to be, and I guess you guys knew too.
Ben smiled broadly. “Mum… I… fuck… I could never get bored of fucking you… you’re… oh god Mum… really…?” he asked, sounding as excited as I’d heard him sound in a long time.
I didn’t reply. Instead, my lips pursed and I planted them on his lips, pushing my tongue forward into his mouth. I could taste the beer, but I didn’t mind that. My tongue danced and swirled around his as we embraced passionately. My hands grabbed the back of his top and I lifted it up. In response, Ben raise his arms above his head and I removed his top to reveal that firm muscly stomach and his strong broad chest.
I almost passed out with excitement, knowing our fucking would be unbridled and unfettered. Out passions and desire were finally free, released to drive us to untold pleasure and ecstasy. Ben wasted no time removing my top, simply grabbing it with both hands and pulling in opposite directions until the buttons pinged off and my top ripped in half.
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