A pregnant mother has a talk with her son, but it doesn’t stop there…
Incest is abuse, even covert incest. I’m skipping past the years of grooming here, to get on with the action, but these things don’t just happen. They take preparation, and that prep is sexual abuse. Even before the incest becomes more overt, and physical. Don’t try this at home…
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Momma
“Momma,” my little boy came in, “Are you pregnant?” Not so little any more, he’s just turned 13, and next year, he’ll be going to high school.
“Yes,” so I suppose that it’s about time he knows the truth, without the birds, and the bees muddling up the story. “Do you know what that means?”
“You’re gonna have a baby.” He nodded, “Like Mrs. Corny?” He smiled, but he didn’t laugh. Of course, Mrs. Corny was actually Elisa Corniche. Her married name, but the kids call her Corny because of her sense of humor.
“That’s right.”
“So,” he pointed at my chest, “That means your boobs are going to swell up with milk.”
“Huh!” They already felt warm, and strained at my bra with every breath. From the attention, from a boy, I nodded.
“Again, just like they did when I fed you, as a baby.” I checked the sauce, and turned off the heat. Put the lid on to keep it warm, but it had simmered plenty.
“Oh,” he looked up. “I don’t remember that.”
“Of course not, you’re a baby.” I mussed up his hair, just to make him squirm, but he looked back up, and made a face. “What?” I looked down, and untied my apron strings. Just to make it easier to breathe, but working over a hot stove. The saucepot, and the pentole just starting to bubble on the bottom. It was hot, and muggy in there, from water vapor. Steam hanging in the air, like sexual tension.
He let out a little giggle, but didn’t cover his smile. His beautiful smile, white even teeth without even needing braces. Or a retainer like his father had to wear, when he was about his age. “They look weird.” he shook his head, and stopped staring. So, I slipped the apron string off my neck, and picked at the hairs, stuck to the sweat.
“You know how the baby got in here?” I felt my firm, yet soft baby belly. Only 15 weeks along, I wasn’t huge yet, but I had started to show. It isn’t fat, it doesn’t even look like a fat gut, but now my bra felt too tight, with every breath.
He shook his head. “I think so, but.” He shook it again. “Not really.”
“Well, you know how sometimes, you wake up, and it’s stiff. Too stiff to pee, so you have to wait for the swelling to go down?” With the apron off, then tight straps were the only constriction, other than the waist of my panties, stretched tight under my baby belly, and over my neatly trimmed pubic hairs. It’s funny how, you can forget they’re there, until my pubic mons becomes sensitive, almost swollen, so they try to stand up on end, but are forced to curl, and I can only imagine what that must be like for a boy.
A teenage boy, who’s just starting to sprout them, and has a few long enough to curl back. Swept out of the way as it stiffens, and stands straight up in his underwear, even if he’s too short to see it under the hem of his untucked shirt.
“So, that’s to make it stiff enough to stick inside a girl.”
“A woman.” I nodded.
“Or another guy, if he’s homo.”
“Huh?” Shook my head, all of a sudden remembering the first clue. The offhand comment that my breasts look funny. “Why, are you having homosexual feelings?”
“I don’t know, but.” He shrugged, and nodded. “Huh, some of the other boys, in the UB line.”
I sat down at the table, with an ear on the pasta water. To hear when it starts to boil, but I was already simmering inside. “What’s that. UB line?”
“It stands for Urine Break.” He giggled, “Like missus Corny said, ‘Urine trouble now!’ Hihn!”
“Huh, so. You’re talking about your hikes, in the woods.”
He nodded, “You’re not supposed to look, but I can’t help it. I never touched, but. Huh!” He got a dreamy smile, and licked his lips. Half rolling his eyes, before his lids drooped, and covered the bottom of his beautiful blue irises.
He got them from me, his father is Auburn, and Hazel, but his real father was blonde, and blue like me. Dirty blonde, somehow his hair came out light brown, but that only made his bright eyes even brighter in contrast. Especially now, before his hair becomes too sun-bleached, from the winter snows, spring rains, hooded jackets, and hats to keep his head warm.
Now, his ears are red hot, and his cheeks rosy as if he was wearing rouge. Making his adorable face downright pretty.
“You want to suck them?”
“Huh?” He blinked, and shook his head, but then he looked down. Blushing even harder. He squirmed, and turned away. To discretely adjust something in his pants. Then, he nodded, silently, and kept his head low, but he wouldn’t look at me.
“Oh,” I got up, “It’s all right. I’m not going to judge you for the way you feel, but I know how much it must hurt, for them not to share your feelings.” I felt his shoulders relax, and rubbed his neck with my thumbs. Then, down his arms, to below his sleeves. His skinny hairless arms, with that smooth poreless skin of a child’s.
My child, my baby boy growing up, and turning gay. He turned around, and looked up at my face. Smiling, beautifully. “Not all of them, but one of them.” He looked away. “He doesn’t want anyone to know, what we’re doing.”
“What are you doing, with this boyfriend of yours?” I assumed that his little sister would get a boyfriend first, and my husband is so worried about that. Keeping her from sneaking out, and coming home pregnant. Like I did, when I was a few years older than her, but girls generally start earlier. Not only puberty, but dating, when they’re still young, and pretty enough to get a man’s attention.
He knows that as well as anyone. Being 8 years my senior, and already in college, when I was a freshman. For a moment, I felt that, novelty? Remembering how new, and wonderful all these feelings, and sexual activities where when I was still a virgin, but I hung onto that. So easy to forget when you’re the opposite. A mother, and pregnant with another, because it is so precious. That innocence is only worth the pleasures you discover, when you lose it.
“I, uh.” He was staring, and my heaving chest again. Then he looked up, with a guilty grin. “I never been with a girl before, or even seen one topless. Before, in real life.”
“You little liar.” I had to laugh, “You never could lie to me,” I tousled his hair again, “But don’t change that.”
“Huh!” He nestled his head in my bosom, and hugged me. “I’m sorry, momma. But she told me not to tell.”
“Miss Cornish?” I guessed, just from clues earlier in the conversation. And things that finally started adding up. Her interest in the neighborhood boys, and taking them hiking, when she wasn’t on maternity leave. Recovering from a pregnancy, and no doubt under-slept from having to get up for midnight feedings. Breast feedings.
He nodded, against my bra. “She’s really very full of milk now.” He turned, and looked up. “Are you full of milk, too?”
“No,” but I’m going to have to talk with Elisa about molesting my son. My little boy, my gay not so little boy any more, but I suppose the cat is out of the bag.
“Huh! I’m hot, so could you do me a favor, and go turn off the stove?” I fanned my face, and neck. then pulled out my hot collar to unbutton it enough to pull off, over my head. My bra, and my breasts yearning to breathe free.
I need new bras too. Maternity bras, but for now.
My beautiful darling boy is looking at me, smiling, and blushing, with a boner in his tight pants, and I need to let the pussy out of my panties.
It’s incest, but I’m not making him do anything he doesn’t want to. Anything he hasn’t already done with that pedophile Elisa. Besides, it’s not as if I can get any more pregnant.
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Sonny (Bs ms F Flashback)
“Huh, we didn’t have nowhere else to go, to be alone together.”
“You, and your boyfriend?”
“Huh!” I nodded, “Yeah.”
“You really love him.”
“So, we shared a tent, and Mrs. Corny caught us, but we had no idea that she would understand, because she’s old, and.”
She laughed, “She even younger than I am, and you don’t think I’m old.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, but back in the day. Gay people we couldn’t even get married or anything, and you know. She goes to church, and her husband’s a youth minister.”
“Hahaha. Of course, because who ever heard of a child molester in the church?” She rolled her eyes.
“Oh, no. She never molested us. We’re gay, you know? So, she respected that, she never even tried to touch us.” I don’t want to get them in trouble, especially Mrs. Corny. Just because mom is jealous. I can tell.
“She just showed you her bare breasts, to what. Check and see if you’re absolutely sure that you really are gay?”
“No, but she just got hot, and sweaty. You know, just as hot as you are, and besides. You don’t have to be straight.” I licked my lips, as soon as she slipped the bra straps off her shoulders. She rubbed the lines they left, deep red marks from the tight heavy fabric, trying to hold back the heavy balls, that grew too big to hold them. Then, she let her arms down, still crossed, but the cups hung out, so I could see her nipples, and I remember the smell of milk, even before the taste of it. “We’re still mammals.”
She laughed, and jiggled deliciously. Well, delicious looking, even without the white drops welling up on the dark pink tips, like pearls of jism. Finally, she got her bra turned around where she could unhook it, and rub the lines on the sides.
“Huh, doesn’t that hurt?” My hands shook, hesitating to touch my mom like this, but wanting to so badly, and concerned about the pain she has to endure. Wearing too tight bras, until she grows back in to Ds, since they don’t make C and a Half bras, when they really should, if you think about it.
“I got used to it, long ago.” She moved her hands, so I could feel the lines cut into her ribs. Then, she picked them up, and squeezed them. Just like Mrs. Corny, only without the milk squirting out, in all different directions. You know, I thought there would be just 1 hole in the middle, but there aren’t?
“Huh!” Finally, I kissed one, and she topped messing with my hair, to cradle my head, and squeeze the other side with her hand. pinching it, and pulling it out, when I sucked it in my lips, and let it slip out. So she’d let go, and it snapped back with another nice bounce of soft motherly flesh.
“Oh!” She felt the front of my pants. “My little boy is not so little any more!”
“Huh, you want to suck it, too?” I can;t believe I ever even had the guts to ask my own mother if she wants to suck my dick, let alone having any hope that she would.
“Huh, oh yes. Your hairy little balls must be so full of man milk, from Elise being too busy to take you hiking with your boyfriend?”
I think she’s fantasizing, but come on. We’re boyfriends, we have plenty of chances to go off on our own, fuck, and suck in the woods, without any chance of somebody finding us, and catching us in the act. I just nodded, politely.
I’m a teenage boy, I’ll make more. I bet it doesn’t take an hour to replenish the supply after it’s depleted by a teaspoon from jerking off, or whatever. Even if I didn’t have Mr. Cornish to suck me off, and bend over for me to fuck him.
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Author
And… They fuck. Not really a whole lot to describe there, you know. The old in out, in out? Without the ultraviolence, so it doesn’t seem like what it is: Statutory rape, and emotional abuse. Following years of sexual harassment, and molestation. I’m a little more concerned with how they get there than the destination, even though they’re already pregnant.
I’m just not going to tell you How 2 sexually harass your children to make them “Willing” to let you commit incest against them. Besides, something came up, but I can go on;
Also, for the moderators that read, and approve these stories: Can we get a Pregnant tag in the limited selection we have here? That’d be great.