My Son's Baby

byMs_Mesh_Microkini©

My name is Sofia Ortega, once a wife of 25 years and mother of three boys. And my wild story begins when my middle son, Carlos, came home from his second year of college. He was nineteen at the time, and with the youngest son finally heading out for university himself, that meant Roberto, Carlos's father, and I were finally going to have the house to ourselves for the first time in over twenty years. A mother and father, finally alone after many long years working hard and raising a family, and we were still young enough to enjoy marriage to its fullest.

Too bad that our marriage wasn't going all that well.

Roberto's attitude toward me changed after I had our children. Pregnancy had definitely changed my body in a way he didn't like; Roberto had been attracted to me because I was very slim, and my breasts modest and perky.

After giving birth, my entire body had remodeled itself. My hips had grown exceptionally wider, my butt and thighs exploded in volume, and my breasts never reduced back to their original size after being flooded three times with breast milk for nursing.

It was shortly after that Rob's interest in me waned, and from that point on, he couldn't touch me without first getting drunk-which killed any enjoyment for me, especially since I didn't find the taste or smell of alcohol very arousing. So neither of us enjoyed sex with the other very much, and over time the frequency fell to once a month...then three times a year, if we were lucky.

On top of that, I'm almost certain that Rob cheated on me multiple times. He was starting to keep secrets from me, and he would often get defensive if he thought I'd looked into his phone. To be fair, though, I was never able to catch him at it, and there was always an airtight alibi. Someone always managed to vouch for his whereabouts on the occasions he returned home late or not at all. He had lots of powerful friends in Tulsa,

The experience made me feel gross and fatigued-how could I drum up any confidence in my appearance when even my own husband didn't want to touch me?

One day when I went into Carlos's room looking for him and found his laptop sitting on his bed open and unlocked. I peeked briefly inside the room to ask him to help me with some laundry, and was immediately about to leave when I saw something that made me spin on my heels.

Carlos's web browser was currently viewing an Incest Porn page-specifically, Mother-Son incest. I actually did a double take to make sure I read that correctly, but there it was, in 40-size font. The page was spread over with dozens of pictures of young men and middle-aged women doing dirty things to each other.

At that second, I heard footsteps behind me, along with a gasp of: "Oh, shit...!"

I spun around, my face frozen in a look of horror. Carlos, as well, was reflecting the same look back at me.

¿Carlos, Qué coño...?!" (Carlos, what the fuck...?!) I balked at him.

"It's just, like, a fetish," he defended. Though he tried to pass it off, he still dove past me, carrying the laptop from his bed to the desk, logging off, and closing it...clearly making an attempt to create distance from my discovery. He sat back in the chair, his foot fidgeting uncontrollably.

"Nobody who...who likes that stuff actually wants to bang their own relatives or anything. They just like the fantasy of it."

Thinking too much about the details of all this made my head spin. But what could I really do? Carlos was a grown man, which had only become too apparent when teachers had caught him and a girl screwing at senior prom. I knew that he wasn't a virgin, and he was no longer a child. He was an adult whose needs and desires were his own business.

That was the only thing that mattered, right?

And if the whole thing really was just a "fantasy", then that was fine-wasn't it?

Again, I didn't want to think too much about it.

"Just be more careful next time and don't leave stuff like that laying around. Believe me, my life was a lot happier before I had a clear picture of what my middle son did in his free time."

I wished that could have been the end of it, but after that first instance, I found myself snooping into his personal things more often. Carlos tried to be careful-he usually remembered to lock the computer if he was going to leave it alone for some time, but not always. When I found the opportunity, I took it upon myself to pry into his business again...I told myself that it was because I was afraid that he could be into something a lot less "innocent" than what I'd seen before...like something illegal, or far even far more depraved...somehow.

I had to know, I said, because I needed to have peace of mind.

Looking through his tabs and history, though, it was mostly more of the same. Carlos sure spent a lot of time looking for porn-but then again, he was a nineteen-year-old boy. He still frequented incest-themed porn sites and videos, but I now learned that he also enjoyed reading blogs or forums with people who claimed that they had sex with-and in some case, even had children with-their own relatives.

His favorite pages were all about Mother-Son couples. Looking through the images, I could now see that he was probably right about most of them being fake-not many of the people in them looked like they were actually related. And some were clearly porn stars or professionals just milking the fantasy. As he'd said, people loved to imagine fucking relatives, but not many of them seemed actually willing to do it.

But, unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing I noticed.

I could also see the search tags that Carlos had searched for: "Latina." "Bubble Butt." "Curves." "Big Tits." As a result of that combo, I couldn't help but notice that each of those women looked a little like me.

And the scary thing about it was...I had grown very wet downstairs just thinking about it!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Some time passed, and despite my best attempts to put that out of my mind, I failed miserably. I couldn't sit in the same room as Carlos without checking his behavior, wondering if he looked at me the same as the women in those searches. I paid attention to every move, every gesture he made, and sometimes I thought I may have seen him staring at me. I felt hesitant and unsure, not knowing whether he was undressing me with his eyes at that very moment, or if it was simply my imagination getting away with me.

I would lay up night thinking about it. Eventually, the thoughts even invaded my dreams. More than once, my dreams involved various sexual scenarios between me and Carlos. Some of them with my consent, and some without.

One dream had Carlos and I meeting for a secret rendezvous; while I consciously realized the immorality of what I was doing, my body moving on its own and ignored my pleas to cease. Gazing into my son's strong brown eyes, I unbuttoned his shirt, then undid his belt and unbuckled his belt and pants. One after another, my hands shed his clothes with a hurried rhythm. And finally, when he was finally undressed, I mounted him and sat slowly on his long cock, fully engorging myself upon it as the two of us began to thrust our conjoined bodies.

In another dream, Carlos directly propositioned me, telling me in no uncertain terms that I was born to become his woman and surrender my body to him. I would refuse such a foolish proposal, but as I turned to leave, his hand would catch my wrist and spin me back to face him. With a frightening, but powerful gaze in his eyes, Carlos would pin the one arm to the wall and forcefully kiss me, pushing his warm, slick tongue all the way down my throat. After almost smothering me with the kiss, he would pull away only to use his free hand to rip my blouse off of my body, and then my bra, exposing my tits for him to squeeze and grope at his leisure. Everything would move quickly after that, with every article of clothing stripped from my body and Carlos pounding me hard against the wall until he came inside my steaming wet pussy.

I dreamed of this countless times, with many variations in between. I would wake up next to my

husband at night soaked from head to toe, both in sweat and my own cum.

In late August, our community put together our Annual Pool Party, held in the luxurious backyard of one of our well-off neighbors. It was usually expected that everyone show up, as this was only one of three times in the year that the entire neighborhood got together...including my boss, who happened to be very close friends with Rob.

This year, the party was Hawaiian themed, so everyone was supposed to come dressed in stereotypical luau garb. I bought a simple grass skirt and a skimpy top that looked like it was made of flowers. Making my way to the host's home, I was secretly proud of the many stops and stares I got in my direction, as it felt good that I could still turn heads even in my middle age.

I greeted the host's wife, and we kissed each others' cheeks while she took my contribution to the potluck. Inside, I saw several familiar faces mingling-as I said, we did this every year, so there weren't many surprises on that level.

Though this year, I was surprised to find someone I hadn't expected: Carlos.

I saw him standing near the poolside, enjoying some kind of drink. He was just standing and watching, but still swaying his body in rhythm to the music playing in the background. Our eyes met briefly, and when I waved, he waved back. I don't think he realized it was me at first, as he performed an obvious double take and I definitely saw his eyes give me a deliberate look-over.

The look in his eye made my heart skip a beat. I had seen it over a hundred times, in my dreams.

That same look.

Right before we . . .

God, it made me so weak. All of my resolve, my willpower, just melted away under the shadow of that look.

I could feel something...happening inside me. It was like the parts of my mind which held my self-control and reason were just...shut off all of a sudden.

"Carlos...!" I called as I scampered closer to him.

"Hey, Mom..." he said, suddenly turning his head to glance around, first left, then right.

Then, he reached out and took firm grasp of my hand. "Come with me," he said. "Over here."

I didn't get a chance to ask him what was going on before he pulled me aside, into a dark, empty room that looked like it hadn't been meant for party guests. It was way too cluttered and lived-in. After Carlos and I went in, he took one last look outside to see if anyone were watching and then closed and locked the door.

This, too, was something I had seen dozens of times in my dreams. This exact scenario.

My brain knew what this was...what it meant...but my body refused to listen.

Without a word, Carlos swooped in, grabbed me and pulled me hard until our lips met.

My eyes went wide from shock, but I didn't pull away. My heart was pounding, my mind racing. My body had turned into putty instantly.

We stayed that way for some time...minutes, maybe but it felt like lifetimes. Our lips locked, wrestling with each other, tasting each other. Carlos's arms had released me, but then moved around to my back, where he began pulling me closer. I let myself become lost in his embrace.

When at last he pulled away, he took stock of my reaction, waiting to see what I'd say. How I'd react.

I indulged with a question. "I thought you said you didn't really want that kind of stuff, on any serious level."

"Well, I thought I didn't, but..." My mouth went dry when I realized where his answer was going. "After you found out, I couldn't stop thinking about it.

I couldn't believe that Carlos-my own son-was actually standing there making a pass at me.

And I could believe even less that my body was responding to it!

But it wasn't my fault. His father hadn't told me that I looked good in a swimsuit in almost seven years. He liked me when I was thin-big hips and ass weren't his thing-and I couldn't remember the last time we'd had sex that hadn't just felt like marital obligation. I'd given him 25 years of my life, and three children, and now he acted like being married to me was a punishment.

How could I be to blame for how I responded to Carlos's offer?

In addition to that, I freely admit that I was curious-Carlos was my son, but he was a grown man. And a good-looking one at that, I could admit. No matter the angle I looked at it, he had a perfectly willing cock, and I had a perfectly good pussy. Our bodies clearly didn't care about any more specifics, so why should we?

"Shit," I said...surprising him, and probably exciting him with my suddenly-filthy mouth. "Come on, hurry. Let's do this before anything happens!"

He blinked for a moment, surprised at my acquiescence. But his shock was brief, and he pulled off his joggers with an eagerness that took me aback.

There was no foreplay. The two of us were still in disbelief, but so turned-on that we wanted to get started as fast as possible. We both knew how dirty this was-how unacceptable the line we were about to cross was-but we didn't care. Our hormones were in control now, and we both wanted to sate them.

I bent myself over placing my hands firmly on the sheets of the guest bed, and Carlos came up behind me, took my hips in his hands, and slammed his dick home.

I groaned "Oh God," immediately. It was happening. It was actually happening.

I licked my lips and just savored the feeling. My own son's cock buried deep in me. He was nestled deep-by no exaggeration, deeper than his father had ever gone inside me. Carlos paused briefly to enjoy the moment himself, but it wasn't long before his hips began slamming into my ass cheeks, sliding his meat in and out.

At about this time, you may be thinking: what about contraception? And that means that you are thinking more clearly than we were at the time. Even if it had crossed our mind, I think our mental state wouldn't have allowed us to act. We had no intention of allowing anything to impede our forbidden acts, let alone something as improbable as a baby.

So when Carlos unleashed the torrent of his hot, milky seed, it went straight inside my cunt with nothing to stop it.

When we were done, we just stared at each other for a moment, then we both started laughing. Like, what the fuck were we doing? What had we done? If anyone found about this, let alone my husband, there was going to be so much hell to pay. We both knew that we'd created a secret between us so taboo that it'd be something we held onto the rest of our lives.

And clearly, we both found that incredibly exciting.

"So? What do you think?" he asked me, breathing hard.

"I think we need to be somewhere else," I told him, pulling my bottoms back up and wiggling them back into place. "Because from here on, this didn't happen."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right," he said. He looked around, but remembered that he left his pants in the living room. "But other than that? Was it good?"

I sighed, losing the focus I was so very much trying to build to start sweeping this under the rug. But I realized that Carlos would never allow me to do that until his ego was satisfied.

"Yes, honey, yes. In case my muffled screaming didn't convince you, you gave my pussy quite the enjoyable workout."

Carlos beamed, and his cock re-stiffened a little. I pointed, and he finally pulled his pants back on and left the room. A few minutes later, I left to go clean up in the bathroom. I made sure to clean and wash the smell of sex as thoroughly off my body as I possibly could, although the aroma never quite went away for me. I could still smell it even hours later, while Carlos and I mingled with other guests at the party, pretending that absolutely nothing had happened.

In 25 years of marriage, this was the first straying I had ever done, and I still couldn't believe it'd happened. Although I also imagined that if it weren't for those circumstances, and the sheer kinkiness involved, I wouldn't have done it in the first place.

Carlos moved out, back to his university three days later. Between that time, he and I avoided being in the same room alone with each other, because every time we were, there were these awkward looks and pauses.

Not regret, or shame...

Just something else. Something I don't think either of us could describe.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

My monthly visitor in September was a no-show.

I waited an extra week to be sure, but the morning sickness answered the burning question for me. I knew what this meant. I knew what had caused it. And I knew I was screwed.

But boy did I not know how screwed I was.

The worst case scenario happened-my husband got a call from the clinic where I'd gotten myself tested. They didn't tell him anything, but the name popped up on the Caller ID as "HOPE MATERNITY". When he confronted me about it, things went badly in a hurry.

Initially, I lied and said it was his-what else could I do? He pressed me, hard. He asked why didn't tell him about the baby. He asked how far along was my pregnancy and how long I'd known. He asked how come I'd gone to some unknown clinic instead of our family doctor. He wanted to see my belly.

I followed all of his demands, doing my damnedest to tell the best story I could...but it wasn't long before I slipped up. Rob had a memory like a steel trap and quickly deduced that we hadn't so much as touched each other during the weeks that I conceived. I started to sweat feverishly, and my answers became more rushed and sloppy. I forgot details of my story, and my lies just revealed more lies. It wasn't long before I finally broke down on the couch and confessed that I had cheated.

Rob went quiet and turned ghost white. He took a long deep breath before standing from the couch and staring down at me with the most murderous eyes I'd ever seen. I seriously thought I was a dead woman for a moment.

He told me he wanted me out of the house by the next night, and slammed the door when he left.

That was the last time I ever saw him, or spoke to him, instead of hearing his words through a lawyer.

And he was busy while he was gone. The next thing I knew, my phone was blowing up with voice mails, texts, emails, and instant messages. Rob had called everybody. Our friends. Our neighbors. His parents. My parents. And my boss, the good friend I'd mentioned before. That call I answered, even though I didn't want to, because I knew it would be him telling me that I was fired. My contract was terminated, and so were my benefits, including my healthcare.

Fortunately for me, during his little revenge-spree, Rob had also called the kids, including Carlos.

"Are you doing alright?" he asked, calling me on my cell.

"Not really," I sobbed, alone in my hotel room.

Then, he asked me the big question. "It's mine, isn't it?" Of course, I answered truthfully.

"Then, I need to do the right thing, don't I? I'll send you some money for a plane ticket."

"For what?" I asked.

"To move here with me, of course," he said. "I'll have to call in some favors, but I'll make it happen. We are going to be parents, after all."

When he hung up, those words echoed in my head repeatedly.

"We are going to be parents...".

My own son had said that to me.

And how fucked in the cabeza was I that it turned me on?

After I arrived in the airport the next afternoon, Carlos and I went to his dorm. He showed me around, let me get comfortable, and let me know that I could help myself to whatever was in teh fridge.

"Nothing but junk and cheap shit in there right now, though," he said, looking me over. "Looks like I'm finally gonna have to follow your advice and get some real food."

Before the sun went down, we went out to the local store and got some things we would need, from food to hygiene and feminine products. After we returned, I was exhausted and just elected to finish off some of the pizza Carlos had in his fridge. He, in the meantime, settled in to watch some television.

Despite what we'd done before, the very act which had gotten us both into this mess, the two of us were still in the mindset that it had been a one-time thing. Neither of us felt like lovers.

"That said," I told him...holding down what felt like pure ice inside my throat, "I appreciate what you're doing for me. And, I know you have...needs.

He rose an eyebrow at me. That inquiring gaze making my chest pound tighter, my lips struggling to properly form what I was trying to say. "So, if you...if you ever feel a need...um..."

"What? I can fuck you?"

My body shivered, hearing Carlos say those words to me again. But to my surprise, it wasn't in fear...but instead debased, depraved excitement.

And then, I nodded.

"Mama... isn't that what got us into this mess?"

"I'm not saying you have to! But...I'm already pregnant, so it's okay..."

"I'm not going to take advantage of you, Mama. You're in a very bad spot right now. You don't have to degrade yourself like this."

"It's not degrading," I said to him. My tan cheeks beginning to redden a bit. "LIke I said, I liked it...so, I don't mind. I'm not saying that we need to make it a constant thing. I just want you to know that you can ask me, any time. I won't hesitate."

Despite what I'd promised, Carlos didn't so much as look at me in that way during those first few weeks. His dorm was surprisingly roomy, as I was able to set up a makeshift bedroom in the "study room"-a soundproof space the students were afforded to be able to do their schoolwork in peace. By the time I'd moved in, Carlos had already put a full-size bed with a comfortable mattress and clean linens for me to sleep on. He'd moved all of his books and other school materials into his own bedroom, but I told him he shouldn't hesitate to use mine if he needed the quiet. After all, I was the intruder.

Things went like this for weeks. Carlos went through his normal routine, and I spent my days looking through wanted ads and filling out applications. I had always relied on my contacts and networking to find work before, but my ex-husband had made that difficult and living in a new city made it impossible.

At home, I did what I could to help-de facto settling into the role of a pseudo-housewife. Carlos had both work and school to worry about, so when I wasn't looking for a job, I made taking care of the dorm my temporary occupation.

It was hot in that apartment, so sometimes I could only handle wearing a t-shirt and maybe some leggings, and it wouldn't be long until I'd work up a sweat. The thin, flimsy material of my top would sometimes cling to my body or even turn translucent thanks to the layers of perspiration.

Carlos clearly took notice. I used to see him stare at me when I bent over to clean, and I often caught him snatching a glance whenever I'd step out of the shower. It was obvious that my body still turned him on just as much as before.

Whenever our eyes met, he'd quickly turn away in embarrassment. But I would always smile welcomingly.

After all, my offer still stood.

Finally, Carlos came home and it was clear that he'd weathered a really tough day at school and work. His eyes were so drained, his body slouched and dejected. I tried my best to greet him with a smile, and ask if there was anything I could do. He turned to look at me, his eyes traveling down from figure all the way from my tight blouse to my shapely leggings. After pausing one moment to look into my eyes and make a decision, he just told me he wanted me naked on the bed. Just like that. No seduction. No haggling.

I just nodded, stripped off my clothes, and laid myself on his bed. My heart pounded as Carlos stripped himself naked as well, and I spread my legs to invite him on top of me. I relished the weight of his body on top of mine as he entered me, and I wrapped my legs around his hips to reaffirm the fact that I wanted to enjoy this as much as he did.

He fucked me for twenty minutes and shot his seed in my pussy for the second time. He filled me up, and by the time he pulled out, my cunt was leaking his warm juices right from the brim. This, too, I allowed myself to take full pleasure in. After all, there was no harm in it now, was there?

The RA was sympathetic to our situation (he had no idea that I was Carlos's mother-we only said that I was homeless and pregnant with his child), so he allowed me to stay for as long as he could. But it was understood that I needed to constantly search for a job and my own place as a condition for staying. I agreed, and spent every single day looking for work. Unfortunately, not many people wanted to hire a forty-year-old pregnant woman, so I had to rely on food stamps and other assistance. I had also started a wrongful termination suit against my old job to have my benefits and severance pay restored, and possibly win a settlement for my mistreatment...but my lawyer was working pro bono unless he won the case, which meant that I was pretty low on his list of priorities. Furthermore, my old boss was clearly dragging his feet on the subject, so it looked like it could be months before anything happened on that front...if at all.

In the meantime, my belly grew more and more, which had the added benefit of making my clothes ever so much tighter. As an unintended effect, Carlos seemed to enjoy the sight and made "use" of me more and more frequently. He was a good lover, and I was lonely, so we both made it our mission to enjoy the situation to its fullest. More than a few times, I stayed naked-or close to it-to coerce him to fuck me when I needed it...not that I had to try very hard to convince him.

It provided a strange context on our new relationship, and the frequent sex had the added benefit of backing up my cover story of just being Carlos's "ex". I was quite a loud lover, meaning that anyone immediately adjacent, or even walking past the dorm room, no doubt knew exactly what we were getting up to when we disappeared inside for hours at a time.

It felt oddly exhilarating that everyone who knew me simply thought of me as Carlos's mamaita-his baby's mama. There were lots of whispers and rumors going around about who I could really be, and it was actually pretty scary how much truth some people were able to guess correctly. For instance, since I was homeless and jobless despite being a relatively well-off 40-something, people quickly guessed that my pregnancy was the result of an affair. How else would a woman like me find herself in this situation? I tried to avoid the subject, but once that cat was out of the bag, I admitted to it. This resulted in some of the residents turning against me. Why should they do any favors for some knocked-up, adulterous slut, after all?

Carlos defended me, and reminded everyone that he was as much to blame. That didn't stop the hate toward me; the RA, as well as the vast majority of the dorm residents, were staunchly religious and I was an "adúltera" (adulteress). Though no one ever said anything directly, I knew the main reason they barely tolerated my presence was because I'd never entertained thoughts of an abortion. If I had, I would have been kicked out immediately. Whenever I got any harassment, the RA gently reminded the naysayers that he knew about all the things they hid in their closets (sometimes literally). That would stop the aggression for a time, and I was at least able to co-exist peacefully.

Oh well. Devolver bien por mal, as my mother used to day. (Basically, Spanish for 'if life gives you lemons...')

Eventually, I reached my second trimester carrying my son's baby, and I could no longer stay in his dorm. Word was getting out about me, and as it was, the RA had already gone above and beyond for us. He didn't want to force this on us, but his hands were tied. We understood, especially since we both knew I wouldn't have been able to stay after the baby was born anyway.

I still didn't have a job, so to prevent me from being put out in the streets, Carlos moved us both into a tiny apartment with only one large adjoined room that pulled triple duty as living room, kitchen and bedroom. Basically, the perfect economy home for broke trash like us. Fortunately, it also had a barely-functioning bathroom with a standing shower. By this point, I was at 23 weeks, and the baby was moving everyday. It was a very energetic little babe, which I guess it got from its papá.

One day, I was getting dressed while Carlos was in school and I caught a glimpse at myself in the full-length mirror. I had only dried off from my shower, so I was still nude and got to see the full length of my pregnant body reflected in the glass.

If I said so myself, I was radiante. This was the first time I'd ever actually looked at myself like this, with my belly bulging with my son's child, and my breasts slowly swelling in anticipation of nursing. Even my skin had cleared up, and my complexion was looking a lot smoother and healthier. It was incredible what the body could do to itself under the oddest of circumstances. Especially mine, which seemed to change more and more every time I was pregnant.

But I stood there and took careful stock of my bloated belly, remembering that somewhere inside there, I was slowly creating a life.

A child that was also a grandchild.

Even though I still hated myself for what happened, and I hated what I went through after it happened, I now loved the fact that it happened.

Somewhere inside, deep inside, I felt a longing to meet this person with whom I'd shared my life for the past half-year. It dawned on me then that I hadn't had an ultrasound, so I had no idea if I was carrying a boy or a girl...but now, I wanted to know. It was my own pet curiosity.

So, after I was finished my daily job hunt, I took a trip to a free women's clinic and asked for an ultrasound, which they were happy to provide. A couple of professionals looked over the photos and determined that I was having a boy.

I felt strangely proud. Four-for-four. Thus far, I was 100% at producing sons.

A few centuries ago, that would have made me practically a queen.

When Carlos came home, he and I had a long talk about the future: both for us, and our son.

"Our baby's going to be...well...inbred, you know that," I stressed.

He nodded. "I know. I've been looking into it. There might be problems, but there might not be. It's...kind of out of our hands. I'm a little scared that we might wind up with something neither of us prepared to handle, but since you've made up your mind to have it...I'll accept my role as father."

I beamed, my cheeks a bit rosy hearing my son say that he was willing to share the role of father and mother with me. It was true-he had been a wonderful provider while I was trapped in this situation, but he was still young. He didn't really know what he was getting himself into. Regardless, it felt nice to realize that I wasn't in this alone.

"So...what about 'us'?" he asked me. Both of us knew that this question couldn't be avoided.

"Well, I don't think things need to change any time soon," I answered. "I'm still your guest, so to speak, so you can keep doing with me what we've been doing. You're a young man and you have needs. And to be honest, we both clearly enjoy it."

He smiled a bit at my admission and nodded. We held a gaze for a moment, and though there was still mutual lust and attraction, I couldn't say it had sparked into love just yet. True, I loved my son, I was more than willing to have sex with him, and I was going to have his baby...but it was obvious that neither of us saw a future with each other. That may sound strange, but we had decided it was extremely important to be honest with our feelings.

But the lust was definitely there, so it was only a few minutes later when Carlos pushed me down on the bed, mounted me, and pounded my pussy hard until both of us climaxed. At this point, I was clearly engrossed, especially in the thrill of pregnant sex. I deeply enjoyed peering down at him over my pregnant belly, watching his athletic, tattooed body pounding away at the place where he'd come from and later planted his seed.

At long last, into my third trimester, I finally found work as a customer service operator at a local cable company. Unfortunately, I was only a temp and any time I took off for maternity wouldn't be compensated. Still, a job was a job at this point, so I took what I could get.

Our cramped apartment was slowly filling up with baby products, like a crib, a carriage, and other essentials. It shocked me how much prices on these things had changed in almost 20 years, but I had to accept that that's what happens when you get knocked up nearly a generation apart.

Suddenly, though, things took a very unforeseen turn.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Soon after I found my job, Carlos also found himself something: a girlfriend.

I knew that he was seeing people, but this was the first time it went beyond a handful of dates. Because of our situation, Carlos told me about her immediately, and I, of course, encouraged it. I was, after all, his mother and we both knew where our relationship stood.

I'd accepted that this could, and probably would, happen.

With his girlfriend, Yelena, he brought up the subject of me very delicately and slowly. He let her know that he was sharing an apartment with someone, that she was expecting his child, but that nothing serious was happening between us. At one point, he even brought her to our place so she could meet me. I could tell she was taken aback by how far along I was. I suppose that being told her boyfriend had a mamaita didn't quite register until she actually saw how soon the baby would be born.

Sex between Carlos and I stopped for a while. I was left to my own devices for several weeks until things with Yelena suddenly cooled down. They only dated a short time, so I was surprised by how hurt he was by their falling-out. They were still dating off-and-on, but it was clear that things weren't going well and Carlos would come home and fuck me hard almost every night. It was clearly being done to spite Yelena, but I didn't ask questions. I just enjoyed having him in my bed again, especially since he now fucked me so aggressively. Carlos had always been very gentle and reserved with me, especially later in my pregnancy, so getting pounded so rough was a very, very pleasant surprise for me.

Finally, she stopped returning his calls and that was that. I felt guilty, because the little bits of their arguments I could overhear made it was obvious that I was the factor that had ended their relationship. Yelena had apparently never really accepted me, and wanted Carlos to kick me out. He repeatedly refused, and this was the result.

Just as well, too, because the big day was finally here.

When the big moment finally arrived, I went into labor and had one of my neighbors call Carlos to tell him I'd be at the hospital. Carlos arrived within an hour and stayed with me when he could. After hours of grueling torture that I had never thought I'd go through again, I gave birth to my son.

My grandson.

My son's son.

The baby was beautiful-a little small, but with no obvious problems. We were relieved. For now.

I stayed only a brief time at the hospital-after all, I wasn't being paid for this, and I still didn't have health coverage. So when I had the chance, I took my baby and I left.

Life became a scramble from that point on, and Carlos just followed my lead, doing what I said because I'd been through this three times before with him and his brothers. Speaking of whom, I called and told them that they had a new half-sibling, but they still weren't speaking to me very much. They said Dad had started up drinking after my affair, so they didn't really give too much of a damn about the kid that had wrecked his life. Even if it was familia.

I told them I understood, and when I hung up the phone, I broke down in tears. The guilt still cut deep.

Carlos felt the same.

When Carlos and I finally began having sex again, we used all the protection we should have used the first time around. Condoms, pills, morning-after pills, pull-out...you name it. I'd found another stable job by then-easier now that I was a "single mom" rather than an "expectant mom". Employers are much more eager to hire a woman when they know she's not going to be on maternity leave any time soon.

I was working as a beautician, doing local fashion shows to priss up the models before they went out on the runway. The money was good, which meant that I was finally independent for the first time in almost two years. The benefits were...not great, but leaps and bounds above public healthcare.

Now that I was finally standing on my own two feet again, it was time for Carlos and I to discuss our options again. He'd been my de-facto husband for about a year, and was settling into his role as Daddy with amazing grace. It was hard not to feel the illusion of normal domesticity as I watched my child and his father enjoying each other's company...or when Carlos and I enjoyed each other's company ourselves.

Then he said something that shook me deep to my core.

"I've been giving it thought lately. I wanna give it a try."

"What do you mean, exactly? The two of us-in love for real?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You're the most reliable friend and...technically...the most steady girlfriend I've ever had in my entire life. And I have to admit-I've kind of grown attached to this."

I nodded, but I was still having reservations. After all, no matter how we felt, we were still mother and son. There were clearly limits to what we could accomplish in a real relationship. We'd never be able to officially marry, for instance. Not unless we pulled off some sort of immaculate fraud and spent the rest of our lives hoping no one figured it out.

Besides, I was 19 years Carlos's senior. I didn't quite look my age, but who knew how long that privilege would last? How would he feel being with a 60-year-old granny when he turned 48? What would we tell our son? And what if his brothers changed their minds and wanted to visit...?

So many what-ifs ran through my mind, but Carlos only had one question to ask.

"Mom, how would you feel if I married another woman? I mean, how would you really feel if another woman took me away from you?"

To my surprise, his wording it in that manner produced more resentment and revulsion than I expected. I hadn't thought too much about it when he'd been with Yelena, but those days he had came home late left me picturing what the two of them might have been doing together, and it made me feel rather jealous. But until now, I'd assumed that my feelings were due to loneliness-after all, I didn't have anyone but Carlos at the time. Now, I had our son, so I wasn't alone anymore...

So that left me with the burning question...how would I feel, if another woman took my beautiful Carlos from me? If she got to suck his cock every night? Sleep with him every night? Gaze into his eyes while he fucked her every night? And felt him cum inside her every night? How would I feel if another woman had his baby and forced him to divide his time between my home and hers, enjoying a deeper relationship than I could ever have?

How would I feel about all of that?

"I'd hate the bitch..."

Carlos didn't say anything. He just touched his hand to my cheek, caressed me, and leaned forward and kissed me. I submitted to it with equal desire, and pulled his hands to my dress, directing him to start unbuttoning and undressing me. With the smacking of our lips and fervent movement of our fingers, the two of us were stripped within seconds, and he lifted me into his arms without breaking our kiss.

He carried me to the bed...our bed.

For the first time, Carlos and I took our time. For the first time, we explored each other. For the first time, I wasn't simply "servicing" him as payment or a quick fix.

We made love. Long, slow, tender love.

We both decided, without sharing any actual words, that we were willing to risk going without protection again. Just this once. We wanted this time to feel real. No plans. No careful calculations. We wanted our feelings and emotions to guide us, to learn how natural our love was, and how normal we felt together.

I took him in my mouth for over ten minutes, hungrily and gleefully sucking his long, rigid cock. He hovered over me, knelt in our bed, hands on his hips as he let me pleasure him with my tongue and lips like it was my pussy. A couple of times, he groaned as if he was going to cum, but didn't, and he instructed me to turn around, put my head in the pillow, and point my round rear at him.

He buried his nose in the crack of my ass and began licking and sucking my pussy, paying me back in full for what I'd given him. The difference was that I came within seconds of him starting, and again several times after that. He was as good at pleasing me with his mouth as he was with his dick. The way he reveled in me, even down to the smell of my pussy, excited me beyond words for description.

Rather than take me from behind, we both wanted our first "real" time to be facing each other, in the position that men and women had used since the dawn of time. I welcomed him between my legs yet again, and he slid in my pussy with ease and enthusiasm. We'd done this so many times already, and our bodies just knew what to do.

While he fucked me, Carlos and I locked our hands together and kissed. He licked my neck and I nibbled his ears. His tongue played with my nipples, and I whispered his name. The air was thick between us, and his body felt heavier on top of me than ever. Even our sweat seemed to mix together much more fluidly and naturally, as if we were really becoming one.

Carlos and I made love for hours that night, only taking brief pauses to cuddle in the afterglow after he came inside me, until we finally found the energy to go again. By this point, it was clear where this was going.

It was more than clear what we'd decided.

"So then," he said, holding me against his chest after we'd finally gotten tired enough to try and get some sleep. "I want us to have another baby."

I chuckled, nestling my soaked, messy hair on his chest.. "I knew you would say that."

"You don't want to?"

"You know that the last baby almost wrecked our lives, right?"

"You don't want to?"

"It's not that I don't want to, honey..." that last word just slipped out, but shockingly, it felt so natural. "In fact, God help me, I want to... But we talked about the risks before, didn't we...?"

"You're right," he acknowledged. "But...I don't want our only child to be the result of an 'accident'. I want to make a real family. The right way. With you."

My hips squirmed. My pussy apparently found those words quite appealing. I found myself smiling, too. Like the first time, the fact that my son wanted to accept his position as the father to my children was intoxicating. Nothing I could say in opposition would have been honest. I wanted it, too. Now, I had finally accepted that Carlos was my man. My second great love. Perhaps my first true love.

I wanted to bear his children. I wanted to share a home, share responsibility, and share a life. The old motherly desire to see him leave my nest and fly on his own, had been replaced by a desire to build a new nest together. Maybe I was high on emotion and the afterglow of being so well-fucked, but the feeling was intense.

I decided I'd sleep on it. For a night or two, while we explored these new feelings. The next day found us sharing meaningful glances and smiles, both of us excited about where this would lead.

We went to work and separated ourselves from each other for a time, but we never left each other's thoughts. I found myself staring at the clock for my entire shift, making sloppy mistakes that I was just thankful nobody noticed and were easily correctable. But it was incredulous-here I was, a middle-aged, professional woman, and I was gushing and daydreaming like a schoolgirl. Unable to think about anything except the man which I'd be going back home to in a few hours and the child we made together.

I stopped by a phone dealer on my lunch break got myself a new one, and texted my new "husband". We texted each other the rest of the day like dumb little kids. The messages started out rather sweet and loving, before quickly devolving into candid and explicit descriptions of what we would be doing to each other once we got home. Who was going to touch what, who was going to lick what, and who was going to stick what into where.

I'll just let you use your imagination on those items.

On the way home, I picked up our boy from the sitter's and stepped onto the metro with the stroller. I couldn't help but smile...just seeing our baby, the son Carlos and I had made. He was such a powerful reminder of where our lives were about to lead. I held a hand to my belly, now flat for over a year. My memory recalled the feeling of its swollen size, the feeling of life growing inside me...put there by my beloved son. A lot had been going on back then, so I didn't get to enjoy it much at the time...

But now, maybe...

When we got home, we slammed into each other like a collision and retired to the bedroom immediately. The night was filled with the knocking of our bedpost against the hard plaster wall, the wet slurps of my son's cock penetrating me over and over, and my endless screams of ecstasy. I knew the neighbors could probably hear, but I didn't care. This wouldn't be the first time, and hell, some of them probably enjoyed having an audible porno living next door.

We were at it for so long that I didn't even remember that I'd skipped both lunch and dinner until we stopped to check on the baby. As I stumbled out of bed and into my robe, I could barely walk and every step I managed was accompanied by the sloshing sounds of my son's thick pools of cum squelching inside my pussy.

The next few days were like this, as were the next few weeks. The best part about making love-aside from the fact that I could even call what I did with my son 'making love'-was the way Carlos now looked into my eyes, taking his time as he ground his hips into me, and thrust deeper and deeper. He studied the pleasure in my eyes, and responded to my needs instantly. If I was close to a climax, he'd speed up and start thrusting faster, sometimes nibbling my ear or sucking my toes to really throw me over the edge.

I would throw my arms around my son's back, surrendering myself to his desires, begging him to fuck me harder. We'd strain our bed to its limit, the springs and mattress groaning to keep up with the urgency of our love-making. My legs clamped themselves around my son's hips as he got close to his own climax. I wanted to keep him close and inside me. I wanted to feel his body shudder right at the moment that he exploded in my pussy.

When he finally got off, erupted hot ropes of sperm into me...into his mother's cunt...his pelvis convulsed, and I moved my hands over the tight muscles of his ass, as his entire body worked in concerted effort to fill me with his mating seed.

We were weeks into this routine before either of us even brought up the fact we were still going strong without contraception. Every single night, my son and I had fucked until he absolutely deluged my fertile womb with enough fertile baby batter to fill an entire swimming pool.

Neither of us cared.

Without realizing it, we were already fully committed. We were a couple. A nuclear family. Married in all but name. Through the day, I called him "my love" and "darling" and "sweetheart", and every night I begged him to fill my pussy and give me our next child.

Joke was on us, though.

When we confirmed that I was pregnant, I was already six weeks along. That meant Carlos had impregnated me almost immediately in our renewed relationship - maybe even that very first night we confessed our love. I was actually happy. It was more fun to realize that he'd knocked me up again so soon, purely as a consequence of our insatiable love for each other, rather than out of the effort to breed.

I made up my mind that, from then on, I'd never use birth control again.

Carlos and I would love each other every night, and just let what happened happened.

Carlos enrolled in Graduate school to earn more money to support our family, and I had to give my bosses a guilty shrug when I told them I was expecting again, even though I'd told them I was done making babies. They didn't fire me, though, and around the same time I'd finally won from my wrongful termination case.

Suddenly, after years of barely being able to afford the clothes on our backs, our famine had turned into a feast. We took that money and ran from that dinky apartment into the perfect home for our new lives. We even managed to find a county that could "marry" us and let us live as husband and wife, without asking too many questions.

Since then, we've been through nine years of partnership, in addition to several more children. Carlos continued his education, gaining his Master's shortly after the birth of our second child, and just recently received his Ph. D in History.

Eventually, his brothers did find out about us and what had happened. While stunned at first, they later realized that my newest children weren't simply their "half-siblings", but also their nephews...and thus, full blood relatives. Over time, they actually seemed in awe that their brother had, in summation, taken their own mother as his lover and then knocked me up with so many children. They may have also been a little jealous too, but that could have just been my imagination.

Either way, it was too bad. They should have made their move when they had the chance.