Not Yet But Now 14

Not Yet But Now, Ch. 14 of 15
by Dirty Pierre

We made our way hand in hand through the herd of beached European mammals. Mum obviously delighted in being watched.

“They know you fuck me, darling; they can just about smell my cunt! Look at these fat bastards pretending not to notice us, fantasising about taking your place and spurting their hot goo over me, the pigs. As if!”

“You wouldn’t want a threesome or a foursome with a bunch of ‘em, then? Really?” We laughed.

“I’m only wet for you, sweetheart,” Mum confided quietly. “I can’t wait to have your cock inside me again.”

“Don’t, Mum, you’ll get me hard.” I didn’t want the embarrassment of walking the 150 or more yards to our room with a rampant prong sticking out in front of me.

“It fills my cunt so perfectly,” Mum went on, “So hot, and hard…”

“Stop it!”

“So full of creamy cum…”

“Stop!”

“For my hairy mummy pussy…”

“No more!”

I dropped her hand and tried to think of England, as it were, breaking into a trot across the sand, leaving Mum laughing in my wake. Once in our room, I dashed into the shower to clean off the sun cream. Mum joined me a minute or two later, and we had a difficult time of it resisting the temptation of immediate copulation under the water. But we had an unspoken agreement that this would not be one of our more nasty couplings.

Nonetheless, as we towelled each other dry our desire burned. Mum’s cunt was drooling wetness, and my cock throbbed, standing stiffly from my crotch.

“Are you ready to make a baby, darling?” Mum asked as she lay back and opened her legs, caressing her pussy. Beneath the neat patch of woman-fur, her smooth cunt lips were very plump and parted slightly as she spread her thighs.

“Uh-huh. I don’t think I’ve ever been so fucking hard.” I climbed onto the bed and lay on top of her, kissing her throat.

“I should be ovulating today or tomorrow, so I’m at my most fertile. I’ve never had trouble falling pregnant, you know.”

I trailed kisses down her front while teasing her clit with my fingers.

“God, you’re wet, Mum. Your cunt’s so fucking hot…”

“So ready for you, my love. So ready for your gorgeous penis to spurt your semen into my womb and fertilise me.”

I was conscious as I sank my cock gently into her clutching heat that our purpose was utterly forbidden, and the very fact made it exciting beyond measure.

“My beautiful mother…”

She moved her loins in perfect sensuous harmony with my probing length, a warm and complete acceptance of my filial cock in her depths. “Oh yes! Taking my gorgeous son inside me, my lover, oh…”

We fucked slowly, savouring the knowledge that our unnatural union was so wickedly taboo: mother mating with son, son mating with mother. And in our shared intent that our union should bear illicit fruit it was doubly forbidden, appallingly, deliciously wrong.

“Making our baby, making my mother pregnant…”

“Fuck yes! Impregnated by my son. Bearing your child…”

“I’m going to make you so big with our baby inside you…”

I suckled at the breasts that had nursed me in infancy, moaning in pleasure as I worked my stiff penis hotly into her body.

“Oh yes, darling, suck my tits while you fuck me…All the way out, all the way in, oh it’s so good, so good…My darling! Oh fuck, I want to feed you, feel you sucking my teats while you push your cock into me, fucking me…”

“In your cunt…”

“Yes, in my cunt, in Mummy’s cunt…”

“I’ll pump my sperm into you over and over, all swimming and finding your egg and putting a baby in your womb…”

“The womb where you grew, darling, inside me…”

“Oh Lord, I can’t hold back any longer, can you feel me cumming in you Mummy? Can you feel my cock throbbing inside you?”

“Yes, darling, yes, oh I’m so greedy for your sperm, shoot it all into me…”

“Oh Mum, oh Mum, Mum, oh I love you Mum…”

“My love, my love, cum in me, cum in your mother, breed your love inside me, I’m yours, yours, always…”

I pressed myself hard to her pudenda and buried my cock deep, feeling its head gently touch her cervix when my orgasm overwhelmed me. It seemed as though I was ejaculating a pint of hot semen as my load pulsed into her.

“Oh, yes!” Mum cried. “Straight into my womb! So deep! Flood me darling, flood me with your sweet sperm!”

The aftermath was exceedingly wet and gooey. But that did not inhibit me in the least from wriggling down between Mum’s legs and licking her to orgasm. I feasted on her warm, generous cunt, delighting in her abandon as she accepted the worship of my mouth. The taste of our wet love was rich indeed.

We giggled contentedly.

“Will that do?” I asked.

“Oh, I think you’ll have to try again once or twice. If you can manage it,” Mum teased, licking traces of pussy juice and semen from my chin. “But don’t feel pressured. I’ll give you, what?, ten minutes, and you can get back in the saddle.”

“Might need feeding before the encore,” I said. “What do these Germans round here eat?”

“Too much pork sausage and not enough pork sword, by the look of the women.”

Again that evening, and the following day, and after our departure for the south-east I serviced my mother, filling her cunt with hot semen, we two delighting in our incestuous union. Whether on first waking, or bent over the bonnet of our rental car, or after tearing her panties down in an olive grove, or knee-trembling in the darkened doorway of a small village church, we spent the next week and a half in glorious, abandoned, unprotected rut, my cock ever hard, ever available to inseminate her, her cunt always hot, wet, greedily accepting yet another load of my potent sperm.

It was no surprise, then, that she announced after her early morning piss on our last day, “Darling, I’m pregnant!”

She excitedly showed me the tell-tale marks on the small stick which she had held in the stream of wee.

“Wow! Uh…”

“Oh, darling, I’m so happy,” she crowed, “So happy to have your baby growing inside me.”

We embraced. This was it, then. For real. It was suddenly borne in on me that there had been an element of fantasy, of play on my part during these past weeks. Sure, I had weighed the pros and cons, discussed it with her in a serious way – but really having a baby? And with my mother as its mother? Now I wasn’t so certain that this was a good idea. No, more accurately, now I was wondering whether this wasn’t a really, really bad idea. A really, really bad idea that would totally fuck up my life.

We had to pack for the airport, and I was glad of the distraction.

During the flight home, Mum clung to my arm and kissed me often. She was glowing.

“You’re quiet darling.”

“Hmm? Am I? Quiet but happy then,” I dissembled.

Mum cuddled up to me.

“It will be beautiful. You’ll see.”

Ah, yes. I saw with tolerable clarity now that barring miscarriage I was to become a father.

We did speak about termination during the following weeks. Mum put on much sympathy and cajoling. And tears, too, the prospect of loss being great to her, far greater than it was to me. I resigned myself to my future, whatever that turned out to be.

Alice was horrified. She visited us briefly towards the end of summer, when Mum was about eight weeks gone.

“You what?” she asked, unbelieving. “Say that again.”

“Peter and I are having a baby, sweetheart. Isn’t it exciting?”

“Exciting? It’s sick. Crazy. I dunno what else to call it. Look at yourself: you’re forty four…”

“Forty three,” Mum corrected her.

“…Oh yeah, big deal. You’ll be an old woman by the time the kid grows up. And what about you, Pete? Jeez, you haven’t even started your second year of uni and you’re having a child?”

“It’s not going to interfere with his studies,” Mum quickly moved in to answer for me, running out the same arguments she’d used on myself. Alice was not remotely convinced.

And later, when we were alone, she tackled me again.

“How could you get yourself into this mess?”

“Well, Mum says she’s going to look after it…”

“That’s the least of it. Fuck, can’t you persuade her to have an abortion?”

“Do you really think I can? We’ve gone over that. Several times. There’s no way.” I was in no hurry to tell Alice how readily I’d got Mum pregnant in the first place.

“Well shit, kiddo, I don’t envy you.”

That visit did not involve any play at bedtime with sister. She stayed one night and was off again into the world of high commerce.

And that left Mum and me and our conception to ourselves.

It wasn’t all bad. Uni started again and I was soon semi-absorbed in studies. But being an expectant father, and its particular associations in our situation, were a constant hum in the background of my consciousness. Mum went through a period of morning sickness, and was frequently on the phone in those early weeks: something my housemates noticed. They were not tied to their families to the extent that I appeared to be. I felt compelled to disclose that my mother was pregnant to some guy she’s been with in France.

That and the need to play a part in looking after her served as pretext for my moving out of the share house. It was a couple of months after my return to study that Mum rented out our house and moved closer. The two-bedroom place she found was certainly more comfortable than my student digs.

And although my student life largely disappeared, the sex was fantastic. Most of my male cohort who’d paired off had their hopes of regular rooting dashed in a swamp of endless persuasion, negotiation and conciliation. And, frequently, frustration. Not me. Mum simply loved to fuck. She was constantly horny, her eagerness for cock and kink greater than I’d ever previously experienced. Which was saying something.

There was the hookers and deviants ball we went to in her fifth month, which we attended masked, she wearing only lingerie that entirely revealed her ripening body and pregnancy-darkened genitals, the picture of debauched sexual availability. In the car-park before going home that evening I felt compelled to bend her over and screw my hard cock into her depths, enveloping myself in nasty incestuous fuck heat, before obliging her by ejaculation over her lovely slutty face.

There were other interludes of heavenly release, bathing my mother in sperm, my cock spurting wildly as I milked myself over her tits and belly. Occasions of feasting on her ripe cunt and sweaty arsehole, of having my own anus hotly tongued in her wickedness. Masturbating together, each avidly witnessing the other’s reach for climax. And naughty evenings of pee-play, enjoying the spray of yellow wetness over each other before copulating in heated rut. If it was imaginable and involved stimulation to orgasm, we thrived on it.

As the months advanced Mum began nesting, buying a cot and bedding, nappies and baby toys. That led to an issue about where the nursery was going to be. She’d initially put it all in the second bedroom, but was persuaded that it couldn’t go there. There was an obvious point to be made to the world at large that I remained only her son, not her paramour, even if the bed in that room had never been slept in. Oh yes, that was sensible. The cot was installed in our room.

She grew and grew, her movements slowed. The skin of her belly got so tight I feared she’d burst. Her breasts became more beautiful than ever, ripe gourds of milky fullness. Though I was forbidden to feed, I delighted in licking her leaking nipples, tasting the sweetness reserved for our child. And despite the toll taken by the heaviness of her growing she remained full of lascivious desire.

So it was that, returning from campus and going into the family room one spring afternoon, I found my mother resting naked on the couch. As she looked up her left hand cupped her over-plump breast, pulling gently on her nipple, and she wriggled as if uncomfortable, twining the forefinger of her other hand in her tousled hair.

“I’ve been having such naughty thoughts all day,” she sighed. “I went and bought some more things for the baby, but I kept being distracted by thoughts of your lovely cock, darling.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” I responded, in mock sympathy.

“…And I’ve given myself three orgasms, but I still feel terribly horny,” she lamented, “So, darling, could you please come and fuck me up the arse?”

She turned over and got on her knees on the couch, resting a forearm on its back, supporting her heavy belly on a cushion beneath her and offering her humid fuckholes to me before reaching between her thighs to finger her clit.

“I don’t know what’s come over me,” she moaned, “But I don’t think I’ve ever been so fucking horny in my life. God, I just want to be raped in every hole! I went past a gang of filthy workmen, and was imagining them masturbating and making me suck their dirty penises, taking turns to fuck my cunt and my arse, spurting their hot jism all over me – I could hardly bear it! Please, darling, please, come and do me!”

I swiftly shed my pants, my cock grown rigid at mum’s dirty carnal display, ogling her wide-spread thighs and arse, her lewd, eager fingering of herself, the brown anus peeking from between her plump buttocks. Squatting behind her I began to wetly tongue her puckered hole. Ah! The dirty bitch had already lubricated it generously, and she was plainly relaxed and prepared for penetration.

“Oh yes, darling, you know how I love having my arsehole sucked! I got it all ready for you to fuck, mmm!”

I could feel Mum flexing her anus under my tongue as she masturbated, a reflection of her mounting pleasure. She squeezed her arsehole around my tongue as I poked it into her, a sucking anal mouth greedy for hot cock.

Standing, I placed one hand on her hip and with the other aligned the head of my cock with the sticky entrance to my mother’s arse, then leant in, easing it past her sphincter, gripping both hips to slowly thrust my full length deep into her bowels.

“Oh fuck, yes!” she exclaimed, “That’s what I’ve needed all day!…To be arsefucked by my son!…My big-dicked son who knocked me up, got me pregnant!…“

“You love it, don’t you, you filthy slut?”

“Oh yeah, I’m your nasty slutty incest-mummy, who gets all your delicious sperm! And that big fucking cock, mmm, slide it in slowly, I want to feel every vein in my arsehole…Oh!…Oh!…”

But suddenly, the tone of Mum’s voice changed, and I felt wetness running down the front of my thighs and a powerful smell like semen wafted up from beneath her.

“What is…?” I began.

“My waters have broken!…Oh shit, it’s going everywhere!…But don’t stop. God, I’m such a whore for your cock, fuck my arsehole, fuck my dirty arse…”

And so, as sticky cum-smelling fluid ran from Mum’s cunt down her inner thighs, thoroughly wetting us both, I continued to fuck her hot arse, her anus stretched tight around my cock. I could feel it welling in me, the tingles from deep in my prostate, shooting their hot darts through me.

“I’m gonna cum in your arse, Mum, I’m gonna pump your arse full of cum…”

“Oh, no, no baby! Let me suck it! Can you stop? Can you?”

The effort to do so was superhuman, but I’m a good boy, and let my cock slide from her winking anus. Mum scooted round and clamped her mouth over its head, sucking strongly and jacking the shaft.

“Oh Mum, oh fuck, that’s so filthy,” I moaned as I began spurting, her mouth and hands expertly wringing my orgasm from me. She let my cock slip from her lips, still stroking hot jolts of climax out of me.

“Cum on my face, cum on my face, Rabbit,” she urged, her eyes closed as she wrung my hot squirting sperm onto her cheeks, her lips, her chin.

“Fuck, Mum, I don’t believe you,” I gasped as she licked up the last of the clotted semen running down my wilting pole, “Have you cum?” I panted.

“Not yet, darling, but it’s alright…We’re going to have to go in to hospital – but let’s have a shower…”

I helped Mum to the bathroom and we quickly bathed together before grabbing her bag and getting into the car. All was a-flurry on our arrival – medicos and nurses rushing here and there helping her to the delivery suite along brightly lit vinyl-floored passages. Though her contractions hadn’t started, in view of her age they were not allowing nature to dictate terms.

Observations made, bossy midwives in charge, she was given the drip and the room was darkened. In thirty minutes she began hissing through her discomfort. The restless, sweating pain increased over the next few hours as her body wrenched itself open. Now she paced, now she lay back, no relief to be had. I witnessed a great strength in her as she determinedly rode the clenching waves of her pain.

But at the end, in the very last phase, mum and I were squatting together by the foot of the hospital bed, she gripping my shoulders as she pushed, when she leant forward to whisper urgently in my ear.

“Touch me. Touch me, Rabbit.”

“Huh?”

“Touch my clit…”

Between her legs, her hairy cunt was cruelly stretched, its lips wide open as she bore down, the darkened greasy crown of our child’s head beginning to show, but above, Mum’s little pink button was engorged and prominent. I reached down and tickled it gently with my middle finger.

“Oh…Oh!…Oh!” groaned my mother, writhing in ecstatic agony against my hand, forcing, pushing, emptying her body, delivering up the beautiful infant fruit of our incestuous union in a sudden rush. Mum panting, our baby daughter finally slipped sweetly from her body into our hands, born in her, my, our mother’s deep, deep orgasm.

First cries made, the baby was weighed, measured and returned to Mum’s arms as she lay back on the pillows.

“Arabella,” sighed Mum contentedly, holding the suckling infant to her breast, tears of joy in her eyes.

There had been odd looks amongst the hospital staff, raised eyebrows querying my presence during the delivery. And then there were the questions while the birth details were noted.

“…The father’s name?”

Mum looked at me. “Ah, Le Blanc…Pierre Le Blanc.”

“Father’s nationality and place of birth?”

“France, uh French. Ah, Strasbourg.”

Considering how exhausted she was, Mum had improvised fairly well. When the nurse was gone she beckoned me closer.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” she asked.

Most newborns are ugly, squashed little things. But those are other people’s babies. This tiny girl was different. Mum was right. I had to agree.

“She’ll be for you, darling, when I’m gone,” Mum whispered conspiratorially, patting my hand, “But I’m not giving up my handsome lover just yet.” I bent and kissed her brow.

“Try to get some sleep, Mum. I’ll be back soon.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter 15 >>

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2 thoughts on “Not Yet But Now 14

  1. Thank you Pierre for another lovely instalment, and the addition of making a new life added another level for me. I was more aroused than I thought I would be. Having given birth to 3 kids I could only wish they had been as lovely deliveries as this :-)

  2. Thank you Pipi. I hesitated a little about that: one reads a lot of crap about the joys of childbirth (oh yeah?! doesn’t sound a whole lot of fun to me). I would not have believed it possible had I not witnessed it myself.

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