I walked down the several steps to the lower level of the house. It was an older, split-level home and the two other bedrooms were on the lower floor, along with a bathroom, the laundry, and a small family room that we never used. Beth had stayed overnight at a friend’s house. It was only nine AM, so I didn’t knock on Michael’s door, I just walked in. I was certain he’d still be asleep, just like he always was on a Saturday morning. Really, he always slept late during the weekend, but not today.

Instead, I found him making his bed, naked. I knew he slept without any clothes on, but I hadn’t seen him naked since he stopped wearing pajamas four years earlier, when he was twelve. Michael was mostly facing me and he just stopped in the middle of pulling up the sheet. He didn’t say anything and neither did I. His room smelled a little funky, like there were a bunch of used socks somewhere.

We both just stood there. He looked at me and saw his fully dressed mom. I was wearing a pale blue swing dress that I’d bought on sale at Macy’s. Michael, as I said, was wearing nothing at all. He glanced at my face, looked at my legs, and stared at my breasts, although he couldn’t see much besides dress-covered mounds. I looked at his face, then down his lean body until I got to his cock. It appeared to be small, but it was soft, so I couldn’t be sure, and it was surrounded by light brown pubic hair. His balls looked small, too. He was still growing, I hoped.

I looked at his cock for about five seconds before it seemed to twitch and lengthen. My hand went to my chest. Michael didn’t move, but his cock continued to grow until it was completely hard, pointing to my left and just a little higher than parallel to the floor. It hadn’t grown much thicker. His ears had turned pink.

I had only seen my son’s cock hard once before, also when he was twelve, a year after my divorce. After that, he didn’t show me his body and I didn’t look, until today. His cock bounced slightly as he stood there.

I remembered a chat I had with a guy on Lush about two weeks earlier. My profile doesn’t say anything about incest, although it does mention that I have two children. He asked me about whether or not I had sex with either of them and, of course, I said no. But his questions (first) and descriptions (minutes later) vividly described some of the kinds of sex my children and I could have together. The conversation was enough to get him off and to make me wet.

Taking a step toward Michael so we were only six feet apart, I opened my arms and he quickly walked into them, tucking his hard cock up between our bodies. I wrapped my arms around him and said, “Uh, good morning, Michael. I guess you’re up early today.” Stupid. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.

We were just about the same height – I’m five foot nine. His arms embraced me, too, and he was squeezing fairly hard. I felt the youthful smoothness of his skin. He was almost hairless except for his pubic hair and the top of his head. I knew he was strong, but his muscles didn’t really seem to amount to much. His head fit into my neck.

I felt his hard cock between us and I’m sure I didn’t move, but he did. Just tiny movements at first, his dick sliding an inch up and down. I lowered my hands to his hips and held him close. His skin was soft, although I felt the boniness of his hips, which moved back and forth, sliding his cock up and down. His shoulders were wider than his hips.

“It’s OK, honey. Mom understands. I know you masturbate, everybody does. I’ve washed the cum from your pillowcase and the sheets and your underwear. You masturbate on them, now you can masturbate on me.” I meant it, too, even if I hadn’t thought it through.

Michael didn’t say anything, but his cock moved more quickly and sort of more deeply. I could feel his tummy press against mine, then move away and back again, his cock moving with it. The end of his dick reached to within a couple of inches of my belly button. My hands slid around and I grabbed his butt, squeezing. God, my son’s ass! I pulled him tighter. He was breathing more heavily. Michael reached down and grabbed my butt, which seemed fair in the circumstances. He pulled me even closer.

“That’s it, honey. Let it all out. Just go ahead and cum. It’s OK. Really. Cum on your mom.”

“Oh, mommy,” he said. He hadn’t called me that in a long time. “You feel so nice.”

My breasts were pressed against him. My nipples were hard, although I doubted he could tell, and I could feel myself getting wet, my labia throbbing slightly. He was rubbing me fast now, his cock sliding up and down my dress. I felt his ass muscles clench and I knew he was cumming. He stood on his toes. His ass felt terrific.

“Mommy!”

“Yes, baby, cum for your mommy. Just use me like your pillow, when you slid your cock across it, rubbing yourself, feeling the need to cum building up inside you and exploding.” I squeezed his ass as hard as I could. “Cum all over me.”

I imagined the cum pulsing between us, shooting or at least trying to, streaming up his tummy. When he’d finished ejaculating, I continued to hold him until he took a step back. I looked down and saw that his cock had mostly softened and I also saw a lot of cum soaking into my dress.

While Michael watched, I took off my dress quickly. I raced around the corner, gave the cum spots a quick spray, and threw it in the washing machine. I was back in his room in a minute and he’d only turned to finish making his bed. He looked around at me, a drop of cum at the end of his shrunken cock.

I realized I was just in my bra and panties. Michael looked, glanced away, then turned back and stared. His cock began to get hard again. It had only been two minutes since he came, and he was getting hard again.

“Are you . . . getting hard again?” I asked, dumbly. I couldn’t remember ever seeing a man get hard two minutes after he came, although it had been a long time since I’d fucked a sixteen-year-old.

He just shrugged and said, “It just does that, mom. I don’t know how, it just gets hard all by itself.”

I watched his erection grow until his cock was almost as stiff as it had been before he came. I didn’t think about it too long before I said, “OK, Michael, just this once, lie down in bed.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I’ll jerk you off, to put it frankly. Your mom is not a cock tease. Now, lie down.”

I thought I saw a slight smile cross his face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He threw back the covers and lay on the bed. I got in beside him and put my hand on his dick. I looked him in the eye and said again, “Just this once!”

“OK, mom, OK,” he replied, a bit testily.

I began to stroke him. At first, I just focused on what I was doing, thinking about how small his cock was, maybe four inches long, certainly not five, and although it was thicker than a hot dog, it wasn’t yet a sausage. I stroked his cock slowly, deliberately. It was completely smooth, except for one vein barely visible vein along one side. He was circumcised, my idea, and the end of his cock was a darker pink than the white shaft.

For the first couple of minutes, it was just me stroking him. Then I felt his hand on my breast. My shoulders came back automatically and my breasts pushed out. I felt somewhat embarrassed, but Michael didn’t notice.

“Does that feel nice, son? Do you like mommy’s boob?”

“Well, yeah,” he replied.

I undid my bra and took it off. My boobs are about average-sized, I’d say, and nicely shaped, a little more pointed than round, with smallish nipples. I placed his hand back on my breast. I enjoyed the sensation, too, maybe even more than he did, just in a different way.

We rubbed each other, saying nothing, and the silence finally got to me.

“Do you like my breasts, Michael? Are they big enough for you?”

He was silent, briefly, then replied, “Well, yeah. I mean, breasts don’t need to be huge. I’ve… never really felt one before. Just… never mind. It’s soft. it’s exciting to touch.”

With that, a drop of pre-cum leaked from the end of his cock. Hardly thinking about it, I leaned over and licked it off.

“Oh, mom, holy shit! Oh, your tongue feels so nice. Oh, my god!”

Well, I couldn’t just stop, could I? I kissed the end of his erection, then licked the length of his dick. I scooched down the bed a little. My hand on his balls, I opened my mouth and took him between my lips. Effortlessly, I pushed my head down as far as it would go, his cock rubbing the back of my throat, my nose in his balls. It was easy to take him entirely in my mouth. I lightly massaged his balls and bobbed my head up and down, my tongue tasting him, my mouth feeling the spongy texture.

I felt both of his hands on my breasts. They rubbed inexpertly at my nipples and I appreciated the effort. His hands were warm and they did make me a little tingly. I licked him slowly, sucked him gently, played with him subtly. Even so, after five minutes of sucking, he came.

“Oh, my god, mommy!”

He shot down my throat, not a lot, and I concentrated on sucking it all out of him. I eased my head back so I had only half his cock in my mouth and sucked pretty hard. I grasped the bottom of his dick and squeezed it until he stopped trying to fuck my mouth. He had raised himself up to watch, now he fell back. I knew he couldn’t be exhausted, he was only sixteen.

I clambered back up and kissed his mouth. He was surprised, but he kissed me back. I’m sure he got some of his cum on his lips and, to make sure, I tongued him, first just sticking it between his lips, then French kissing him properly. He kissed me in return and I found myself halfway on top of him, my breasts pressing against his chest, enjoying the kiss more than I’d enjoyed sucking him off. I felt his hand reach under my panties and grab my ass.

Lifting my hips, I reached down with my own hand and pulled his to my pussy, then lowered myself back onto him.

“Rub me, baby, rub your mom’s pussy.”

It was wholly inexpert, but it felt good nonetheless. At first, his hand just moved around, stroking the whole area under my panties, fingers rubbing my labia until I felt a tentative finger ease an inch into me.

“That’s it, honey, put your finger inside me. Can you feel how wet I am? How ready for your hand? Put two fingers inside your mommy.” I enjoyed calling myself that.

Two fingers slithered into me, not especially far, but far enough. They sort of wriggled around.

“Push them in and out, as though you were fucking me, Michael. Yes, like that, a little deeper, now faster, yes, yes!”

I spread my legs a bit. I could hear the sound of his fingers in my sticky wetness. For a long minute, I enjoyed the sensation of his finger-fucking me.

“Can you find my clit? Keep your fingers inside me and use your thumb? Put it higher than your fingers, outside my hole and above. Yes, that’s close. Yes! No, go back to where you were a second ago. Yes! Yes! No, you lost it again. Hold on.”

I pushed him to one side and took off my panties. I lay back down and saw him looking at my pussy. Staring. Eager.

“Go ahead, Michael, look at my pussy.” I pushed his head down toward it. “Get between my legs, Michael. Yes, like that, your whole body. Now, spread my legs a little,” I said, although I obviously could have done this myself, “spread them wide and look.”

His eyes were an inch away from my pussy, which had been recently bikini-waxed and trimmed, so it wasn’t an unruly bush. I felt a finger begin to probe, then inch its way inside me.

“OK, son, now use your tongue.”

“Really?” he said, either surprised or shocked.

“Yes, really. Lick my labia, my slit, lick me thoroughly.”

He did that and more. We experimented with him holding my pussy lips apart, using his fingers, his tongue seeking and seldom finding my clit. It felt good all the time and delightful on those occasions when he touched my clit.

I had settled in to enjoy the sensations when I felt his whole body shift up, one second his head was between my legs and the next second he was looking me in the face, and his cock was pushing near my hole. I could feel it poking around. I sighed and reached down, pulling him into me. I felt the first cock I’d had in many months . . . and it was my son’s!

“Oh, honey,” I exaggerated, “that feels so good!”

On the one hand, it did give me a jolt of electricity as he slid in, deeply enough that I could feel his balls. On the other hand, his cock was kind of narrow and didn’t fill me up that much. On the other, other hand, though, I had my son’s cock inside me!

Michael didn’t need any urging. He began to pump away at me, no finesse, nothing interesting in terms of angles or speeds, taking it out and putting it back in, just a relentless driving back and forth. I looked him in the eyes and saw his were closed. I wondered what he was thinking about, if anything. He was probably just enjoying the sensation of his cock in my pussy.

At first, I just enjoyed him enjoying himself. Then, I started to get into it, his cock seldom hitting my clit, but still, warming me up. His chest kept rubbing my nipples, which had now been hard for half an hour.

“Are you going to cum, honey?” I asked. I really didn’t know the answer as he’d already cum twice. I was surprised he got hard for a third time so quickly.

“I don’t know,” he said, continuing to fuck me like he could do it all day.

I thought about changing positions but then figured this was probably his first-ever fuck and I shouldn’t add complications. I focused on what was happening, on his cock driving in and out of me, pumping away, the friction presumably something he found wonderous. I rubbed one of my nipples.

“Fuck me, honey, fuck your mommy. It feels good, doesn’t it? My pussy around your cock?” I reached down. “My hand on your balls? Empty your balls, Michael, empty yourself into me.”

But nothing happened. He continued to fuck me with enthusiasm, but he didn’t cum. I slipped my hand around his cock and squeezed it a little as he fucked me.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, pleasure in his voice as I squeezed. “Oh!”

I would squeeze him, then let him fuck me for several strokes, then squeeze him again. My fingers came in contact with my clit in a regular pattern that felt pretty nice. Michael seemed to be getting closer to orgasming. I took my hand away and felt him push as deeply as he could into me. Again, and again. And, finally, he came.

I don’t know how much cum spurted from his cock, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t much. But he still jabbed me several times, deep pokes of his cock with a tiny interval in between each one. He collapsed on top of me.

Michael never asked about me, if I came, how it was for me, any of the questions I was accustomed to. I guessed he’d gotten off and concluded that was sufficient. I glanced at the doorway and saw Beth.

Michael’s sister should have been outside with her friends or visiting one of them or anywhere besides where she was standing. Her eyes were wide, her hand at her mouth. I imagined what she could see, her brother’s bare ass between her mother’s spread, naked legs.

“Go to your room, Beth,” I said. “Now!”

Michael pulled out of me and turned to one side, his cock still slightly hard. She stood still for another ten seconds, looking at his dick and my freshly-fucked pussy, some of Michael’s cum possibly visible in my hole, then turned and walked away, slowly.

“Well, shit,” I said. I felt even worse than I might have after having sex with my son. I didn’t think it was actually a big deal that he’d fucked me, that I’d sucked him off, that he’d masturbated against me, but I wasn’t sure what it might do to my daughter. Maybe nothing. In any case, that’s my story, at least the beginning of it, the main part of how I started to have sex with my two children. How I fucked my son, enjoyed it, but didn’t cum and didn’t care.

*

Late the same afternoon, I knocked on Beth’s door and walked in. She was doing something on her phone and continued to do it for a minute, then looked up.

“What?” she asked, an edge to her voice. She was just seventeen, but when she was angry her voice got a little tense, a little sharp, a little anxious.

“I think we...