And as you would expect, Robert shared my bed with me the rest of the summer. We had fallen into a routine of sorts. Every day, before I came home from work, I would insert my diaphragm, even after the pill was supposed to be adequate protection.

I believe we made love virtually every night, often more than once. Even when I was menstruating, Robert still wanted me and had me. Robert found a sturdy, two step plastic blue step-stool that he placed in the shower when I was menstruating, and he would have me stand on the first step and fuck me from behind, while the warm shower washed away any evidence of my period. I would face the shower wall, bracing myself against the tile as Robert pounded me from behind.

I never was able to climax like this, but the fact that Robert wanted me, or perhaps needed me even when I was on my period was very flattering to me. I have never felt as sexy or desirable as I did with my stepson.

I have never been fucked so often or so well in my life as I was that summer. Occasionally, I was met in my kitchen by a naked young man sporting a raging hard-on as I enjoyed my coffee before work. Robert’s standard joke became, “May I offer you some cream with that ma’am?” as he entered the kitchen expecting his good morning blow job before I left for work.

I never refused him. I doubt I ever will.

We often talked about our Fourth of July in the Adirondacks. It was clear, we would both cherish the memory of he four days when we could behave like a couple in public. Every time Robert discussed seeing me climax on horseback, with the 'ben wa balls' banging away inside my vagina, he would get aroused.

He did talk me into renting a motorcycle one Saturday. We drove along Shore Road with me clinging to Robert on the back of the Harley, the 'ben wa balls' clicking and clacking inside me, and the vibration of the two-cycle motor sending waves of pleasure through me.

Once I started cumming, I could not stop. I just hung on, clinging to Robert as climax after climax quaked through my core. I was begging for him to stop, to let me come down, but he drove on. I actually think I had a ten minute orgasm! By the time he finally pulled off the expressway and let me dismount, I was shaking and dizzy.

I lost count, but I swear I had seven or eight orgasms on the back of the motorcycle before he let me stop. I still get wet just thinking about that afternoon.

Yes, Robert’s creativity, sexual energy and endurance was of mythical proportions. I know he was nineteen, actually he turned twenty in early August, but even on an ‘age adjusted basis’ he had more stamina and drive than anyone I have ever heard about either personally or from literature. Robert continued to tell me it was me that inspired this level of performance. Despite all my misgivings about the nature of our relationship, I found his attention and sexual prowess deeply emotionally fulfilling on some level. But my massive guilt did not abate.

By the end of the work week, I would actually feel sleep deprived; having been awakened multiple times in the wee hours of the morning by Robert's massive boner. At least two, sometimes three times during a week, Robert would take me between one o'clock and four o'clock in the morning, leaving my vagina sloppy with his semen oozing out of me.

I loved it. It was flattering to be the center of his sexual universe, but it was exhausting as well. I knew it would end soon with his return to college so I endured the fatigue, and enjoyed the attention.

I came to accept the fact that for him, this was beautiful and proper; and nothing I could ever do we change his mind. For me, it was a matter of dealing with a clear mistake in judgment I had made at the beginning of the summer in a manner that minimized additional harm to my stepson and our relationship.

Yes, the enormously sensual pleasure of our carnal relationship was exciting and satisfying, but, on some deep level, I honestly believe I would have given all that up if I could return to a time when I was not sleeping with, and being fucked by my stepson.

Perhaps I was being naïve. Perhaps, if given the choice, I would have chosen the love, affection and carnal pleasure that Robert and I shared. Who knows?

About a week before he was scheduled to fly back to the West Coast and return to college, Robert asked, “Mom, now that the summer is almost over, do you still think what we having been doing is wrong? Do you still regret us becoming intimate?”

“Robert, I have enjoyed our intimacy more than you can imagine. You have stirred emotions in me that I did not know existed. You have given me pleasure that I did not think was possible. And you have touched me in places I did not know I had….literally, you have touched me more deeply than I thought possible”.

Robert smiled at the last comment indicating the pun was not lost on him. I paused and then continued, “But baby, yes, I do think what we did was wrong. I do regret letting this happen. I regret not having more control and more restraint than to have let this ‘cat out of the bag’ in the first place.”

My comments, though truthful, obviously hurt Robert. “I wish you did not feel that way, Mom.”

“Robert, after all we have been through, all we have shared and all we have done, I feel that above all we need to be honest with ourselves. And I fear that our intimacy will harm you; if not today, some day. I fear that the events of this summer will interfere with you having the relationships you deserve as a grown man. I fear that our relationship, while being very close and caring, lacks the innocence that a relationship between a mother and stepson should.”

I took his hands in mine, and said, “And I am so very sorry for any pain any of this ever causes you.”

“Mom, you did not do anything wrong. In fact, you never had a chance. It was me, not you, who made this happen. I was the only one who could have stopped this.”

“No, I am the adult…” I started to interrupt.

Robert stopped me, “Mom, no disrespect, but as intelligent and assertive as you are at work; you are submissive in relationships. Once I realized that you really could not say 'no', that you could not resist a strong male for whom you had strong feelings, I knew I could have you if I wanted. And I wanted you. You never had a chance.”

After several moments of silence, Robert asked, “Mom, do you think something can be wrong and still be beautiful?”

I pondered his question for several moments before responding, “Perhaps it can. I do not know. I need to think about that. But that does seem to describe what we have been doing.”

To this day, I wonder if Robert is right; did I ever have a chance to avoid this situation? And I still ponder whether something could be both wrong and beautiful.

I remember that night, after that conversation, we retired to my bed and we made deep, passionate love before falling asleep in each other's arms. Yes, I knew I would miss Robert when he returned to school.

Robert’s last night of summer

Robert was due to leave tomorrow morning at 8:15 a.m. He called me at work asking if I could get off a little early tonight. I said, “Sure honey, I will try.”

I was nervous, anxious, sad and relieved all at once about Robert’s pending departure. I did not know what the future held, but we had survived the summer with our relationship intact; actually, we appeared to have strengthened our relationship. Would it last? Who could tell? I would miss him terribly, of that I was sure.

I got home a bit earlier than usual, and was met at the door by Robert who handed me a glass of merlot. Entering the hallway to the living room, I immediately knew Robert had been busy, and tonight would be special.

The room was darkened except for about a dozen strawberry scented Yankee candles. On the floor, in front of the couch were the comforter from my bed, covered neatly with a sheet, and several pillows. Robert had moved a portable heat lamp into the room as well. The DVD player was playing one of my relaxation CDs, ‘ocean sounds’, which was the sound of waves against a background of soft, romantic music.

Before I could enter the living room, Robert took my suit jacket and hung it up. I caught a fragrance that was very familiar, but at first I could not place. Glancing into the kitchen, I could see a pan heating on my stove, and I realized the aroma was coming from this pan of baby oil which Robert was warming. It was clear that Robert planned to make our last night special. God, I loved that boy, even if I had showed it in unconventional ways.

Robert guided me to the living room couch, where he sat me down with my glass of wine, and took my foot and slowly removed my dress boot. I was instantly reminded of the evening of our second coupling when Robert removed my boots while his penis was still throbbing inside me following a beautiful orgasm. The memory made my vagina spasm momentarily, and I could feel myself growing moist at the very thought of that evening. That was a good memory. I cherish it to this very day.

After removing my one boot, Robert raised my leg and peered directly at my panty covered crotch, stared, moaned softly, and said, “You are so very beautiful, mom. I love you so much.” I wanted to reach up and hug him, but with him holding me leg up like that, I could not. So I just leaned back to bask in the loving attention and admiration of my son.

Robert slowly massaged my foot, calf and leg for several minutes, gently running his hands up my inner thigh occasionally to touch my ever moistening pussy through the gusset of my panties. God, he was a sexy and sensuous man. I finished my glass of wine as he massaged my leg, and set the empty glass on the table next to the couch. Robert stopped, released my leg and got up to get me another glass.

He returned quickly, handed me my second glass of wine, and took my other foot and slowly removed my other boot, repeating the touching and caressing on my other leg, and paying even greater attention to my now aroused pussy each time he stroked up my inner thigh. I was involuntarily rocking my hips in a state of arousal, anxious to be touched more intimately, and loved completely.

I finished my second glass of Merlot, and set it down, feeling just the perfect level of alcohol so that I had no inhibitions, and I could bury any guilt I might still harbor for the evening. Robert got up, and started for the kitchen. I tried to stop him, “Robert, come back. I don’t need any more wine.”

“Okay, mom. I am just going to get the warm baby oil from the stove.”

He returned with the sauce pan and a kitchen towel. He folded the towel on the coffee table and placed the sauce pan on top of it. The he took my hand, stood me up and removed my skirt, blouse, and bra; leaving me with only my very moist panties. Robert guided me to lay on my stomach on the sheet atop the comforter on the floor.

Robert turned on the heat lamp, and quickly I felt the warmth radiating from above on my naked back and legs. I was very aroused already. And so was Robert; he removed his tee shirt, and had just his gym shorts on. His penis stuck out from the waist band of his shorts by at least three inches. He looked into my eyes as he removed his gym shorts, freeing his beautiful cock, allowing it to stand freely in front of him. I looked over my shoulder trying to commit this image of my stepson to memory since I certainly could not put this picture in the family album.

Robert kneeled beside me, and placed a small amount of the warm baby oil on my back.

I pulled my hair up, away from my back, giving Robert complete access to my shoulders.

The warm baby oil felt exquisite as he massaged my back and shoulders. Robert took time to reach around under me to caress the sides of my breast as he worked his way down my sides. I would raise myself up slightly to allow him to contact my erect nipples each time his hands moved towards the sides of my breast. Robert would gently tweak my nipple before continuing with the massage. I was in heaven.

Robert moved down and started at my calves, working his way up my thigh. When he got to the top of my thighs, he took hold of panties as I raised my hips to allow him to remove them. I was now naked in front of my son, basking in the warmth of the heat lamp, responding to his touch, with my mood assisted by a slight alcohol induced “buzz.” I was enjoying a feeling of contentment I cannot describe.

Robert began touching my pussy, which by now was aroused, open and wet. He bypassed the slow, one finger introduction I was used to, and inserted two fingers immediately without any resistance from my vagina walls. I was already aroused enough to accommodate both his large probing fingers. I moaned into the pillow with ecstatic pleasure and he massaged the front wall of my vagina, touching my g-spot, as he done so many times over our summer of intimacy.

I placed one of the pillows under my abdomen as I pulled myself up into a slight kneeling position to allow me to rock my hips and arch my back into his probing fingers. I was going to cum any moment just from his touch, I could feel it building inside of me. I buried my face into another one of the pillows as moaning loudly, as I felt my orgasm beginning to build.

And then he stopped and suddenly withdrew his fingers. I continue to rock my hips, humping at air in frustrated anticipation. I expected, and hoped, that Robert would climb behind me and penetrate me doggy style to finish me off by pounding me from behind. But he did not.

Instead, he got up, moved one of the straight backed wooden chair from the kitchen into the living room and quickly retrieved a package from behind the couch. ‘What the hell was he up to?’ I wondered.

“Robert, please don’t stop, honey. I am so close. Come make love to me.” I pleaded in frustration, I looked back at him as I remained on ‘all fours,’ ready and willing to be taken by my stepson from behind. I started to beg him to come back and 'fuck me good, fuck me one last time,' but I knew that tonight was his night; he planned everything out, and I would go along with his plan.

I looked over my shoulder and watched as he removed a large suction based, phallic shaped vibrator from a plastic bag. I looked at Robert with my best 'WTF look.'

The vibrator was huge. I later discovered it was eight inches long, and over two inches thick. It was bright red with an oversized head, thickly veined down the sides, with a large suction cup for the base.

Robert twisted the base and the device sprung to life buzzing and vibrating, rather loudly I might add. The suddenness of the sound startled me. He then turned it off after he got my attention.

“What is that for?” I questioned, really quite concerned about where this ‘plan’ was heading. Actually, I knew that both Robert's plan was that the large device was heading up my tight pussy; and I was pretty sure that device was not going to fit!

“Mom, we are going to teach you how to please yourself when I am not here to take care of things for you.”

Robert then placed the large red vibrating dildo on the wooden, straight back chair from the kitchen. The suction cup held it in place standing straight up. Its size was intimidating; or accurately frightening.

“Baby, that’s not going to fit inside me.” I was clearly alarmed, in fact, I was scared.

"Mom, you have taken all of me. I am that big.”

I looked at the two inch thick, big red dick sticking eight inches above the seat of the chair for a moment, and I turned to my son and said, “No baby, I don’t think you are. You are a very well endowed man, very well endowed. But son, that thing is huge. I am not a big woman. I think we need to start out with a toy that is a little more reasonable in size.”

I realize by calling Robert ‘son’ instead of ‘baby’ I was taking a more serious, more authoritative tone. For a moment it dawned on me, that I never took this tone to discourage Robert went was first trying to seduce me, and get in my panties at the beginning of the summer. No, at that time it was ‘baby, we...