Oedipus Loud

by Dark Dragon Of Creation

Rita Loud, a beautiful, successful woman who has everything, feels unhappy and miserable in a marriage with a man who seems to no longer love her. However, by chance, she will find the love, affection and comfort that she so desperately needs in the arms of the least expected person: Lincoln, her own beloved son. [Warning: Strong sexual content, Smut, Lemon, Cheating and Incest.]

[WARNING: This story contains explicit sex, strong lemon, some male domination, incest between mother and son, and infidelity (or Netorare). If you feel uncomfortable with this graphic content or with any of these topics, then I recommend you to abandon the reading. Please remember that this is only fiction.]

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The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.

—Oscar Wilde

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I

Oedipus Loud

"Mmm… Yes… Ah, yes! Keep going, Lynn. Oh, a little more, please! Just a little bit more."

"Rita… I'm already… I'm gonna—! Ahhh!"

"Mmm…"

"Ah, Rita, that was good."

"… Yeah… Of course it was…"

"Heh-heh. I'm glad. Well, I'm going to sleep now; tomorrow I must get earlier to the restaurant and train the new cooks who have been hired. I don't want to risk them either spoiling the customers' food or causing trouble in the kitchen on their first night."

"Yeah, sure, honey. Sleep well."

"You too."

And with those last words, Lynn Sr. withdrew his flaccid member out of the woman's intimacy, removed his condom, took the sheets and covered his entire body with them, settled on the mattress, turned his back on his wife and in less than a minute he fell fast asleep, as evidenced by the loud snoring that came from him. He had always snored and there was nothing strange about that, but the problem started to get worse over the course of years, as the man gained more and more weight. With the opening of each of his new restaurants, the training of all his employees, the constants travels through the different states of the country where he had opened one of his places and his habitual attempts to try different recipes to add them to the menus caused Lynn Loud Sr. to neglect his figure completely: the bulging belly, the fleshy and flabby arms and pecs, the prominent wrinkles on his face, the jelly-like legs, the drooping buttocks and the few gray hairs he had —for he was about to go completely bald— made him look much more older than he really was. He never distinguished himself by having the best body in the world, and his wife knew it; and to be honest, she really didn't care about it. Or, rather said, she cared more about her husband's health, because that was the most important thing. However…

However, it was still difficult for Rita not to compare his body to that of many other chefs —and men in general— who had good physiques. They did not have the appearance of Adonis, that was for sure; but they did have a healthy body. Oh well, at least her husband had the good habit of bathing every day, because, otherwise, she was sure his body would emit a salty and greasy smell. A smell like the one she was smelling right now, right after having "sex".

'Wait…was that even sex?'

Rita sighed and covered her face with her right forearm. She felt terrible for thinking like that, but she had waited so long just for that night for the result to be this…disappointing.

'Were things always like this?'

She brought her left hand to her mouth and suppressed a sob. No, they weren't always like this: now they were worse… Much worse.

Although she had never given herself to another man other than Lynn before, she knew that their marital nights weren't as satisfying as they were supposed to be. After all, the times when she found an intimate moment of the day, where she found herself completely alone and could let loose all the sexual frustration and lust she felt in long, intense masturbation sessions, she ended up much more satisfied than when she made love to her husband. And it wasn't helpful either that her friends, whenever they went out together to chat and have a coffee, always brought up the subject of sex with their respective partners and so blatantly flaunted how exhausted and ecstatic they ended up after their "encounters". But Rita, naturally, could not be left behind and, just like the others, she talked animatedly about what a good lover her husband was; but unlike them, she boasted about something that she never lived. She narrated acts that she had read in one of the many erotic novels that she liked so much or recounted the actions of one of the many pornographic videos that she had seen. 'Maybe they do the same,' she used to say to herself every time she returned to her home. 'Perhaps my situation is not that abnormal. I mean, what kind of person would talk so openly about her husband's bad… "performance"?' Then she felt calmer and continued with her routine; but deep down, in the darkest and deepest part of her mind, she knew that they were not lying. She was. She was a liar. A vile liar. One of the worst kinds. Not for fooling them, but for fooling herself. Not for nothing was she herself an exceptional writer.

Yes, because Rita had turned into a famous and well-known writer —at least, as famous and well-known as a writer using a pseudonym could be to preserve her anonymity and keep her private life safe—. She, just like her husband, had managed to fulfill her lifelong dream and found herself at the peak of success. She would even dare to say that there was little time left for a film studio to try to find a way to contact her to offer her a contract and adapt some of her novels to the big screen. And even with all of the above, she could proudly say that her daughters and son were equally going on the same path: her family, her beloved offspring, undoubtedly had a bright future ahead of them, and that brought her peace of mind to think that none of them would end up unhappy because they failed to fulfill their wishes.

She sighed again, withdrew her arms from her face, and sat up carelessly on the bed; anyway, nothing happened: her husband was a very heavy sleeper and it was difficult that the absence of her body next to his was something he noticed —or even cared about—. She put her feet on the soft carpet, got up, still naked, and silently walked across the room; she opened the curtains to allow the silver moonlight to dimly illuminate the room, without having to light the lamp; and finally she went to the full-length mirror they had and took a good look at herself: her face, mostly free of wrinkles, still maintained that aura full of vitality and freshness that accentuated her beautiful and fine facial features, her sparkling and stunning hazel eyes, her fleshy and seductive reddish lips, her thin nose, and her cheeks; furthermore, the golden strands of her hair were still as shiny and strong as they were in her adolescence, which created an incredible effect that made her look much more younger than she actually was.

She slowly slid her gaze down and analyzed every part of her seductive hourglass body: her voluptuous and rounded breasts retained their firmness and elasticity, which gave them a beautiful and incredibly sensual shape, in addition to having cute light pink-colored nipples that contrasted perfectly with her creamy porcelain skin; her narrow waist, which was highlighted by her flat stomach, exceptionally accentuated the breadth of her stunning hips; and the smooth curves of her splendid legs were sculpted in such a way that it was easy to identify every angle that made up her thighs, knees, ankles, and, finally, her feet.

She didn't like to show off, but even she had to admit it: she was a beautiful woman. That was undeniable. Not for nothing, many times she found herself being the target of the gazes of men who saw her walking down the street. Some of them had even dared to approach her asking for her number or asking her out on a date. And Rita, as it was expected, rejected them by saying that she was a married woman, with children, and that she was not interested. They were discouraged and immediately stopped insisting; however, what surprised her the most was to see that, among the males who showed their interest, there were also young men. It seemed incredible, but it was like that. And she would be lying if she said she didn't feel flattered when something like that happened. Obviously, she would never date any of them (she was happily married, and they were nearly twenty years younger than her, for God's sake!), but the attention —and, why not, the desire— they showed in her was something that she liked to feel, that she longed to feel. After all, that was something her husband no longer gave her, neither as a wife nor as a woman. And she was trying to understand it, she really was trying! But as time went by, she felt less loved, less attractive. Less of a woman.

They barely spoke in the house. They no longer went out on a Friday night for dinner or dancing. The messages they sent over the phone were robotic, devoid of any feeling; they only served to report to each other and discuss important issues around the house or about their children.

Besides…they hardly ever made love anymore.

She had already said it, and she kept it: the nights of passion with her husband had never been good (actually, with the parameters established by her friends, novels and videos, she would even dare to say that they were bad and unsatisfactory), because she was able to please herself much more; but at the very least, feeling the warmth of her husband's body, feeling his labored breathing on the skin of her neck, hearing him speak sweet nothings to her ear, and receiving his kisses and caresses brought her much more joy than her own fingers or a dildo. But she didn't even receive that anymore… Because Lynn, despite never having been a good lover, used to look for her frequently, and then they had their encounters five or six times a week.

Now she was lucky if they did it once or twice a year. And tonight was the first time of the year.

'Make love?' spat her mind. 'Is that making love? He barely touched you. You were the one who sought him out and tried to seduce him. You've been flirting with him all day and even went so far as to put Viagra in his glass of wine. But what good was it? He seemed more focused on finishing quickly to go to sleep. Oh, and boy did he "finish" quickly… But it was to be expected, don't you think? He had to relieve himself. And no wonder! After all, the distinguished chef Lynn Loud has important businesses to attend to. Much more important than his stupid wife.'

Rita gave a dry laugh that she immediately suppressed with her hand, but as she did so, she realized that her palm felt wet; she brought both hands to her cheeks and knew what it was. They were tears. She was crying. Yet, crying for what? She wondered. For her husband? Her marriage? Her life? It was a real mystery. 'Maybe,' thought she, 'I'm just crying for the sake of it.'

And in her mind, that last statement made some sense —in a kind of weird, twisted way, but it did—: she was a gorgeous, successful woman, had eleven beautiful children, a huge house, money, and an equally successful husband. She had it all. She had to be happy. But she wasn't. That was how thing were like; that was how she was like.

Rita Loud: the woman who has everything and yet still feels miserable.

A loud noise brought Rita out of her thoughts; she turned in the direction of the bed and looked at the bundle that laid there. Right, Lynn was sleeping.

Using her forearm, she quickly wiped her face dry and stepped away from the mirror. By the time she reached the mattress and had one hand holding the sheets, ready to crawl into the bed and follow her husband's example, she stopped; or rather, a sensation stopped her. It was an electric current well-known to her that encompassed her entire belly and extended to her crotch, making her intimacy feel an unbearable tingling that demanded to be attended immediately. Her heartbeat increased and a layer of heat covered her entire body.

No. She still couldn't fall asleep. She was still too aroused. She was so needy.

'I guess I could go to the bathroom and take care of this.'

Rita released the soft fabric and slowly walked away. She opened the bathroom door of her bedroom (because, with the couple's new income, they had remodeled and expanded the house years ago), turned on the light and clumsily closed the door, eager to release the accumulated "tension". Nonetheless, before doing anything, she noticed that there was no toilet paper left in the roll holder, and that was a problem; she relied on the paper to clean up after her sessions. She searched in the cabinet and found nothing either. 'Fuck.' Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, she would fully stock that damned piece of furniture so that something like that wouldn't happen again. The only option left was to go to the bathroom upstairs, but a thought invaded her, and the discomfort made itself present: up there her children slept, so she could not just simply go. They could wake up, hear her, or worse, see her; and she didn't want that. However, the need that burned her from the inside won, and Rita made up her mind. She got out of there, walked over the side of the bed, and, looking at the floor, she saw her black lace panties laying there. 'Should I put them on?' she wondered, but ultimately chose to leave them there; she didn't need them. 'Who could I seduce with them anyway?' She would just go upstairs and masturbate like she always did. She considered taking her dildo but dismissed the idea immediately; she needed human skin —even if it was just her fingers—, not a piece of silicone. She went to her closet, pulled out a short pale pink nightgown, put it on, and left the room.

The floor felt cold against the bare soles of her feet, and the skin of her arms and thighs prickled with each step she climbed. The rhythm of her heart was so strong that she could swear she was able to hear her own heartbeat. She made it upstairs. A chill ran down her spine. The expectation grew. She was nervous; she felt indecent… But she couldn't take it anymore! The tingling of her intimacy was becoming more intense and unbearable. She was tempted to run the last stretch of that dangerous and endless corridor, but it was not necessary; by the time she least expected it, she was already in front of the door. 'Finally.' She reached out her hand and took the doorknob; she was ready to go in. But…

"Ngh!"

'Huh?'

The voice of a person —specifically, a suppressed growl— came from inside the room, which surprised Rita; she didn't expect anyone else to be awake at three in the morning. Whose voice was it? She wondered. And immediately received an answer from the other side of the door.

"A-Ahhh…"

There was no doubt; the voice was too deep to be from one of his daughters. The one in there was none other than her son, Lincoln. But what he was doing or why he was still awake remained a mystery to her. It was not usual for him to stay up until dawn, and even less often to go to the bathroom at that same time. Furthermore—

"Haaa… Haaa…"

—what the hell were those sounds? Were they—?

"Ah!"

Her chest contracted; she brought both hands to her mouth to prevent a gasp of utter surprise from escaping and felt the blood rush to her face in less than a second. As much as it embarrassed her to think so openly about it, she already knew what was going on with her son: he was masturbating. Oh, what an awkward situation! Of all the people that lived there, and that she could have discovered, it had to be her only son!

And although her mind kept telling her over and over again that this was normal for young men, she couldn't help but feel extremely uncomfortable about the situation; after all, she herself was heading to the bathroom to do exactly what he was doing. Besides, the muffled moans coming through the door, one after another, like a warped and obscene background music, didn't help either to calm her down at all.

"Kgh!"

With her palms sweaty and her face burning in scarlet, Rita decided that it would be best to go back to her room; she would leave her son alone to let him…relive himself. She turned around, but before she could take the first step, she heard Lincoln's voice again, and between the moans and grunts that he emitted, she managed to catch a word that paralyzed her.

"Ahhh… Mom…"

'… H-Huh? Did he just say—?'

"Mom… Mom, mom…"

If Rita's heart wasn't altered before, it definitely was now, and it was beating so hard that she felt a slight pain in her chest as her head spun. No… No, no, no! This could not be happening! There had to be a logical explanation! Perhaps she had misheard; perhaps this was all a very unfortunate misunderstanding from her part; perhaps it was just a bad joke that her mind, overwhelmed with arousal and a few glasses of alcohol, played on her poor subconscious. Yes, it had to be something like that. After all, this situation was impossible, ridiculous, unreal…

It was impossible for her son to be masturbating at the thought of her: his own mother…

Rita wanted to do many things: cover her ears, run away, leave the house, sleep in her car, and a long etcetera; but, for her bad fortune, she couldn't do any of those; her feet had put down some invisible and powerful roots that did not allow her to move from her place, and her arms gained such weight that she was unable to lift them beyond the height of her chest.

"Y-Yeah… Just a little more…"

'What do I do?' she asked herself. 'What is a mother supposed to do in such a situation?'

Rita tried to consider her options, but nothing coherent was going through her mind; the ideas crossed each other, the thoughts were diluted, and, in the end, she decided to do what her logic besieged by the drunkenness, nervousness, worry and (concupiscence) curiosity told her what was best: she would slowly open the door and stay spying on Lincoln.

For many, that would be the craziest and most absurd decision anyone could make in the current situation; however, and in defense of the poor woman, it must be said that she was not in the most congruent mental (and physical) state of all.

Rita swallowed hard the lump in her throat, directed a trembling hand to the doorknob with tortuous parsimony, turned it, and, pleading to whoever was listening her, slowly pushed open the door, hoping to remain as quiet as humanly possible.

She made it.

Now, with a small gap that allowed her to see inside the bathroom, Rita found who she was looking for: Lincoln. His back was turned to her —something that she was mentally grateful for—, his left arm was raised against his face, and the shoulder of his right arm was constantly moving back and forth… And he was stark naked.

She had to cover her mouth to suppress a gasp, because, even though Rita had seen her son's body on the beach before (and with the bathing suit on, of course), she had not expected the sigh before her to be so…spectacular. At that precise moment, Lincoln now radiated a sensuality very different from the usual: his dashing body, from the neck to the feet, was covered by a thin layer of sweat that gave it a nacreous shine thanks to the faint moonlight that slipped through the window; every muscle in his broad, strong back stretched and contracted under his skin every time his sturdy arms moved in front of him; and his strapping, muscular legs, from the calves to his thighs, were topped by toned, hard glutes that not many men ever had.

And he kept moaning…

The spectacle that was presenting before her was so surreal that she couldn't stop watching. It was as lewd and immoral as it was erotic and sensual. Her son was such an attractive man! Not for nothing was he so desired by the women of his university as the ones of the town. And now, she was witnessing an act that many of them could only behold and enjoy in their imagination. Oh, it was so exciting. For that same reason, her pussy was so wet and hot, as well as her nipples that were so stiff and sensitive. Her hands were doing a good job tending to those areas. And now that she thought about it, what would be the size of his c—?

'Wait…what?'

Rita's mind stopped short and her body froze completely. She was afraid to look down, but she knew that it was imminent. She did and almost fainted on the spot when she saw what she was doing: with her right hand she was rubbing her vulva over the thin fabric of the nightgown, while with her left she massaged one of her large breasts and stimulated the nipple between her middle and index fingers.

No! This was impossible! She could not believe it! She refused to believe it! This was only a dirty dream and nothing more. The things that were happening at that precise moment were only the product of her perverted imagination. After all, she was unable to masturbate while watching her son; unable to feel pleasure by hearing him moan her name; unable to imagine the wonderful sensation of his incredible body under her touch—

'Oh, my God! I'm such a dirty and depraved woman!'

However, her burdened thoughts were interrupted by Lincoln, who slowly turned his body around and was now facing the door of the spacious bathroom. She held her breath and expected the worst. It was her end. He would discover her. She was so—!

"Haaa… Haaa…"

'Or not?'

Rita focused her gaze as best she could and realized that the man couldn't see her: his eyes were tightly closed, in addition to holding a piece of cloth against his nose, partially obscuring his field of vision. She sighed in relief. Now she could quickly get out of there, pretend that this night never existed, and try to forget everything she had seen and heard.

'But it was a funny thing,' she thought. 'Besides, what was that cloth on his face? They looked like—'

The woman looked back into the bathroom and carefully observed that object: they were panties! And judging by their appearance and Lincoln's constant calls, she was sure those were hers. Because, as far as she could remember, none of her daughters —at least, the ones who still lived in the house— possessed such erotic underwear: a red lace mini thong she had just worn yesterday.

Rita's breathing became heavy and her warm breath seemed like it would emit steam at any moment. Her son's expression was quite a poem to lust, for she could see the ecstasy on his face every time he inhaled deeply the lingering scent of her used panties. Also, now that he was facing her, she noticed some wet sounds coming from his body; specifically, from his midsection.

Ignoring the howls in her mind, Rita slowly lowered her gaze, admiring his chiseled pecs and abs, which were so ripped that, with one finger, the furrows that separated each muscle of his torso could be easily traced; until, finally, she looked at the shaft of that jovial and spectacular body. There it was: the penis of Lincoln, of his son.

'Oh, my God…' she thought in amazement. 'It's bigger than the ones of the men in those porn videos…and it's also much bigger than Lynn's… Much more…'

Her legs buckled for a moment, and Rita found herself sitting on the floor, panting, rubbing her thighs against each other, stroking her voluptuous breasts with delightful slowness and occasionally pinching her erect nipples. This was far more than what she could bear, and her insides constantly screamed at her to get out of there. But there was no turning back. And even if she wanted to forget that night, even if she put in all her effort, she knew that she wouldn't make it. She brought the middle and index fingers of her right hand to her mouth and began to suck them greedily, while with her left hand she continued to squeeze and stimulate her tits. The movements seemed robotic, devoid of will, and anyone who saw her would think that Rita, the woman who wore a gaze clouded with lust, had lost the ability to control her actions. But it was not like that: she was fully aware.

'Just this time… Just this one time…'

And so, she decided to stay and squat in front of the door. The seconds passed slowly, giving the feeling that hours had passed; the atmosphere around her was dense and hot, and her breathing became heavy and erratic. At a certain point, Rita noticed that his huge member, just like his face, was also partially covered by another of her panties; only that these were white. 'Why precisely that color?' she wondered. The question, even to her, struck her as odd, for anyone would think that it was not important; that it was an insignificant detail. But she was different; she was a writer. She knew from experience that many times the simplest and most banal things had a deeper meaning, a reason for being. The question kept echoing in her head, until she heard her son's voice again.

"A-Almost there… Almost there!"

The speed of the rubbing increased, and Rita could see that Lincoln arranged the garment in such a way that now, instead of covering part of the length of the shaft, it completely covered the head. It took her a second to understand that strange procedure, but when she did, a powerful and unusual wave of pleasure washed over her. 'I see… He ejaculates in my panties…and these, being color white, perfectly hide the stains of his semen.'

She sucked on her fingers more fiercely, as a small trail of saliva trickled down from the corner of her lips to her chin. At that point, she decided to ignore the voice of her conscience that prevented her from touching herself while looking at her son; now she only listened to Lincoln's moans and gasps and she directed her other hand towards her intimacy, and at the very moment her fingertip lightly touched her clitoris above the fabric, a powerful electric discharge ran through her entire body, from her head to the tips of her toes, making her shiver. She clenched her teeth in a desperate attempt to suppress a deep moan, but, unfortunately, she lost her balance, and instinctively raised her hands to avoid the impact. Big mistake. For the object on which she leaned was none other than the door, which, being ajar, easily yielded to the weight of the woman. The bathroom was opened with moderate violence and Rita barely avoided hitting the floor with her face but was now on all fours. However, that mattered little, since the untimely entrance so surprised Lincoln that it almost made him jump; instinctively he let go of the garments he was holding and turned his body towards the door, but before he could even see something or someone, he closed his eyes, with an expression that mixed pain and pleasure, and released a powerful orgasm that, due to all the previous stimulation, he was not able to hold back anymore; and because he had nothing to restrain the spasms of his penis, the semen flew freely in the direction he was looking.

Once he descended from that strange climax, his heart rate began to normalize, he wiped away a few beads of sweat from his forehead with his forearm, opened his eyes, and scanned the place, trying to find the source of his shock. In doing so, Lincoln noticed two things: one, the bathroom door was wide open; and two, his mother was kneeling in front of him, half-naked, and covered in his sperm.

For her part, Rita hardly believed what had just happened. She stared at her hands, breasts and thighs with an expression of disbelief, as a hot, viscous substance that she had wiped off from her face slowly trickled between her fingers. Oh, God… Oh, God! Her son, her own son, had ejaculated on her! Now what would happen? She wondered, on the verge of tears. This was, without a doubt, the worst possible scenario. If only she hadn't been so indecent, so perverted. Despair invaded her, and her mind tried to find some explanation that she could give, not only to her son but also to herself, about the reason for the current situation. She raised her face and whispered, "Linc—"

But her words were silenced by Lincoln, who was now kneeling in front of her, wrapping her back with one arm, while he firmly held the back of her head to draw her towards him and bring their lips together in a deep kiss. Rita was dazed. 'What is he doing? What is going on? Isn't he angry that I spied on him? Isn't he surprised to see me? Or scared because I caught him using my panties? I don't understand anything… I don't know anything…' Yet, the only thing she was sure of at that precise was that her son's lips felt incredible, and that the mastery and passion with which he dominated the situation were something she had never felt in her life. Unwittingly, she gasped, thus opening a small gap through which Lincoln took the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth and thus caress her own pink organ with delicious slowness. She moaned. The man's technique was impeccable, and with every little pressure and contraction he exerted on her lips, he was able to send a stream of wonderful sensations throughout her body. She dared to move her tongue timidly, touched the tip of the invader's, heard her son let out a sigh, and it was then that she separated from him.

"S-Son, no—"

There was no answer. She only felt the young man approach her face once again to kiss her cheeks, cheekbones, forehead, nose and eyelashes.

"W-Wait… Please, wa— Ah!"

He continued his path of kisses down to her smooth, creamy neck and began to kiss, lick, suck, and nibble on it.

"D-Don't… Don't do— Nnn!"

And then, she felt how one of Lincoln's large hands slowly slid down her back, resting on her firm, full buttocks, to begin massaging them. But the breaking point came when she felt a big and hard object rubbing against her thighs and then poking her stomach.

"Stop it, Lincoln!"

The man's advances stopped immediately upon hearing the woman's order; she had not yelled, but her voice manifested such authority and firmness that he obeyed instantly. He slowly pulled away from her and watched the expression on her face: despite the fact that her skin showed a dark shade of red and her parted lips let out her heavy and hot breath, she looked distressed, ashamed, confused…and scared. Something that he did not understand. Because he's had erotic dreams about his mother before, but he had never seen her with that face. Usually, she looked so willing, loving and happy; instead now, in that dream… Nausea seized him, for it was then that he finally realized the truth: he was not asleep, but wide awake. This was real.

He jumped up. He wanted to run. Flee from what had just happened, from what he had just done. However, before he could get out of the bathroom, he felt himself being grabbed by the wrist. He tried to struggle, but he felt so weak that he did not have the courage to be gruffer to disengage from the grip.

"Lincoln, look at me," asked Rita.

But the aforementioned remained silent and began to shake his head.

"Lincoln, look at me, please," she repeated.

"No…" he finally said. "I can't."

"Why?"

"For shame…"

Rita took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled, seeking not only to calm her unsettled heart, but also to find the right words.

"Son…I'm not mad, if that's what you are worried about." With that phrase, she got the man to see her out of the corner of his eye. There was mistrust in his eyes, since it was not common for a mother to say that after what had just happened; and Rita understood that disbelief, because, to be honest, even she couldn't quite believe either the naturalness with which she spoke those words, but it was the truth. Her truth. She continued, "Trust me: it's not like that. Am I surprised? Of course I am. But I also need to understand this whole situation, and if I just get angry then I won't achieve that goal."

Lincoln turned his face and asked, "How much did you see or hear before you came in?"

Rita felt her cheeks burn once more. "More than enough…"

"… I see…" he whispered and then covered his face with one hand.

They were both silent for a few more moments, until Rita spoke. "Lincoln…tomorrow I want us to talk at length about all this. I have many questions to ask you, and I think that you also have several explanations to give me."

"Sure," he said and nodded.

"Good." She released his wrist and turned the other way. "So…good night."

"Yeah. Good night." And without saying more, the man left the place.

Rita watched her son walk down the dark hallway, until she finally lost sight of him when he locked himself in his room. However, she did not come out of the bathroom; she only went to the door to close it behind her and leaned against it. She stood there, without moving, without thinking, and observing the thick and pearly puddles that were scattered on the floor ('It's so much more than what Lynn has ever released out in his youth.'); she took several pieces of paper and wiped them slowly, trying not to smell the sweet essence that they emanated ('Lynn's smells sour.'); when finished, she wiped her face, body and hands and went to her room ('Lynn has never kissed me like that.'); and when she arrived, she took off the little nightgown she was wearing, left it in a discreet place —along with the panties she recovered— to wash it the next day, without anyone else seeing it, and laid down on the bed, next to her husband.

Rita barely got any sleep that night.

---

'And now what?'

Rita didn't dare to look at her son directly in the eye, despite the fact that last night she was determined to talk to him. They were both sitting at the kitchen table, facing each other, a cup of coffee in their hands, and the house completely alone.

"You can ask whatever you want. No one is listening."

To have —or try to have— her talk with Lincoln, the woman had given her younger daughters permission to go wherever they wanted that afternoon, as long as they told her where they would be: Lucy went to her favorite coffee shop; the twins, unexpectedly, decided to go together to the mall; Lisa went to a lecture in the university; and Lily stayed playing at the house of one of her best friends. Each one of them asked the boy to accompany them, but he apologized and told them that it would not be possible because he had something particularly important to do. The girls were upset at first but understood; they made him swear that he would make it up to them, and he, with a smile, made a promise. Everything was going perfectly, Rita thought, for there was nothing to compromise the privacy of their conversation. She prepared everything that could be necessary and called Lincoln, but seeing him enter with a strange look full of seriousness made her lose her determination; she stared at the table, while she listened to him take the chair and sit down in front of her. And now they were in the current situation.

"Will you answer me truthfully?" said she at last, having taken enough air.

"Yes," he answered simply.

Rita, still not seeing him, nodded and began. "The panties you had…were they mine?" She already knew the answer to that question, but she needed to start somewhere. Besides, that way she would test her son's honesty.

"I wouldn't have taken them if they hadn't been yours."

'… Maybe…he was too honest…' thought she, embarrassed and with the blood starting to run to her cheeks.

"How long have you used them to…do that?"

"Years."

"… How many?"

"I started when I was fifteen or sixteen. I'm currently twenty-one, so that would be five or six years by now."

"Well, uh… Ummm… While you were…pleasuring yourself, I heard you calling me… Why?"

"Because I was fantasizing about you while I was masturbating," said he, emphasizing the last word.

"Lincoln!" she screamed, full of shame, and with her cheeks burning.

"It's the truth. Didn't you want me to tell you nothing but the truth?"

"Yes, that's what I wanted, but…" she clenched her fists tightly and felt her heart pounding in her chest. "But why me, son?"

"Because I love you."

Rita's astonishment at that last comment was such that she had no choice but to raise her face; her mouth was constantly opening and closing, like a fish out of the water, as she struggled to find her voice; and if she had been able to find it, it would have been useless anyway, because her mind was a real mess. "I love you." "I love you." "I love you." Her son's words echoed through her head over and over again, louder, without abatement. So many times she had heard that sentence come out of his mouth, and yet this was the first time she had heard it with that intention. Eventually, she saw how her son withdrew from his seat, approached her, lifted her, cupped her cheeks between his strong hands while caressing her skin with his thumbs, and once again claimed her lips; but this time with a different energy, one that was filled with tenderness and need. However, Rita broke it up moments later.

"Lincoln, no. This is—"

"I love you."

And just as happened the night before, the man silenced her with another kiss. She wanted to pull away, but he held the back of her head firmly to deepen the kiss. And with every second that their lips stayed connected, rubbing, caressing, Rita's will wavered little by little; her son's right hand gently glided across her scalp, while his left gently stroked her back and managed to send electric currents up her entire spine. Shyly she began to return the kiss, and now it was Lincoln the one who separated his face from that delightful contact; but before Rita could even wonder what was the problem, she felt Lincoln's hot breath against her ear and heard him whisper, "I love you so much, mom."

He once again took possession of her soft and full lips, and for a long time he alternated his kisses and caresses with words and declarations of love that so overwhelmed the woman that she was unable to form her own thought. Her head was spinning, and her legs were shaking like jelly. At a certain point, she felt her feet no longer touched the ground as someone carried her bridal style, and moments later she found herself in the living room, sitting on the handsome man's lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, and giving him an erotic French kiss, where their tongues were intertwined, dancing in sensual synchrony, and fighting for dominance. She wanted to accommodate herself but feeling a huge and throbbing bulge rub against her crotch snapped her back to reality and hurried away from her son's mouth.

"No, Lincoln, no! We can't do this! We must not do this!"

He grunted in frustration. "But why?"

"This is incest! Don't you realize?!"

"Of course I realize!"

Lincoln's scream startled Rita, but what really stunned her was seeing her son's eyes start to crystallize. She let him continue.

"I do realize. I've always realized. I'm not that stupid…" He looked at the ceiling, avoiding facing his mother and trying to calm himself down. "I… I know that it is not normal (or natural) for a man to fall in love with his own mother, but I couldn't help it. For years I tried to suppress these thoughts, and yet all my efforts were in vain. I believed that over the years I would leave that strange childhood crush behind, but as I grew, so did my feelings…and my desire for you. I constantly dreamed about you, and little by little I began to see you more like a woman…"

"But Lincoln…" said Rita, moved by the man's words and taking his face in her hands, "I'm your mother. You are my son."

"I know," said he. "That's why I sought comfort with other women, but it was useless, and the result was always the same: I couldn't get you out of my thoughts. I couldn't forget you. None of them were you."

"Lincoln—"

"But now, with what happened yesterday, I mustered up enough courage to tell you how I feel." He looked at the woman directly in the eye and declared with determination, "I love you, mom! I love and desire you as a woman!"

Rita tenderly stroked her son's hair, and although his face looked so adorable, attractive and inviting as to give him a big, fat kiss, she said, "Honey…even if I gave in to all this, I'm married to your father… Are you aware of that too?"

Lincoln's face darkened. "Yes… And I'm also aware of how unhappy you are with that man."

Rita's jaw dropped; she had never seen the man so disgusted and upset before. Besides, the tone with which he said "man" sounded so…disdainful.

"I know that man no longer pays you the attention you deserve," he continued. "I know that he no longer cares about you or about my sisters in the least just to attend his damn businesses. And I know that he no longer meets your needs as a woman."

"Huh?!" she exclaimed. "H-H-How do you know that?"

"Years ago, before the house was even remodeled, when I was in the bathroom, I heard you having sex. Or rather…what that guy dares to call 'sex'. I remember it perfectly: the only one who was squealing and snarling was him, the bed barely creaked, and after three or four minutes of 'pure pleasure' you let out the most feigned moan in the history of mankind."

The blonde wanted to cover her face out of shame, but she was unable to do so as the white-haired man took her by both wrists and forced her to look at him.

"Lincoln?"

"And that angered me, mom, because a woman as beautiful as you shouldn't fake the pleasure she feels in bed." He leaned close to her ear again, and this time, with a voice that wavered between anger and arousal, he whispered words that were capable of sending shivers down her spine, "But above all, I was angered by the fact that it was him the one who touched you and not me. I couldn't bear it. I can't bear it."

Without saying more, Lincoln opened his mouth and started to nibble on Rita's soft and rounded earlobe, who let out a small squeal as all the air in her lungs left. Subsequently, with his tongue, he began to slowly trace the entire contour of the ear, and once he was finished, he blew some cold air over the skin to increase the electrifying sensations. He repeated the process with the other ear.

"S-Son…" she panted. "I—"

"Shh…" Lincoln hushed her. "Now I am here for you, mom. Let me pleasure you, please. You need it as much as I do. Because, even if you want to say one thing, your body tells me something else entirely. I know that you have liked our kisses by the way in which you have reciprocated them. And the way your skin reacts to my caresses confirms what I have already told you."

The man's words now seemed more like the song of a siren to Rita, for the more she listened to him, the more she was tempted to give in. And although the rational part of her brain was fighting desperately against that sinful idea, the young man always found the way to completely destroy her defenses. He took her by the waist, pulling her against his body, to the point where her large breasts pressed against his pectorals, and when he moved his lips with tortuous slowness towards her smooth neck and planted a wet and loud kiss, she could not help but release a long sigh, which little by little, turned into an erotic symphony of moans as he continued kissing, sucking, and nibbling her skin. Eventually, the big hands left her waist, and despite feeling that they were sliding down, she did not stop them; and when they reached their destination, she allowed them to knead the firm and abundant flesh of her incredible rear end as they pleased.

Rita no longer restrained herself and also began to return the kisses and caresses that her son gave her: with one hand she slid her fingers between the strands of his soft and long white hair, combing it, with the other she caressed his strong, chiseled chest, and with her tongue she explored the inside of the man's mouth. All that while she rubbed her private part, above the pants, against Lincoln's. She did not think of anything or anyone; she only concentrated on the divine pleasure this gave her. And for the first time in her life, Rita Loud completely forgot about her husband and her morals.

They stayed that way for a long time until the girls came home. None of them noticed anything unusual.

---

And so it was that a new and strange routine was implemented between the Loud matriarch and her only son; the level of intimacy increased at a slow but steady pace. Due to the constant movement that was still going inside the house, it was difficult to find a moment of total peace in which they could completely give themselves to their intense and fiery kissing sessions without feeling the danger and agitation of being discovered by any member of their family. However, something that the woman discovered about Lincoln was that when he was aware that his father was in the house and could catch them at any moment, he became more passionate and savage; his dexterous and powerful hands made sure to always take good care of her firm buttocks and her long and shapely legs, while his lips and tongue attacked her mouth without giving any respite. Countless times she felt that she was about to cum just from his kisses.

To compensate this, the couple drew upon to various games that kept them aroused, excited, and aware of each other. They had long sex chats, where the messages became more and more explicit; audios where they moaned the other's name were sent, as well as really suggestive photographs, but without revealing themselves fully naked: Lincoln showed off his sculptural Adonis body, wearing only tight boxer shorts that helped to highlight his huge erection; and Rita displayed her impressive and heavenly figure, sometimes wearing an incredibly erotic lingerie, and other times completely free of clothes, but using her fingers to barely cover her appetizing nipples. And also, at the request of the white-haired man, the woman left in his room, hidden between his sheets, the panties she had used during the day. It was not difficult for her to guess what he desired to do with her clothes, but when she remembered the night that marked a before and an after in her life, a wave of pleasure washed over her, while the man's moans echoed over and over again in her mind. She rubbed her intimacy a little, just over the fabric, to moisten the garment more and thus ensure that her essence was strongly impregnated for the enjoyment of her son. And this attention was rewarded when Rita found those same panties on her own bed, but with the difference that now they were covered, almost entirely, with thick stains of semen. Sometimes they were dry, and other times they were still fresh; but whatever it was, she did not waste this opportunity: she followed Lincoln's example and masturbated intensely, while greedily inhaling that strong, sweet and masculine aroma.

But the man liked to go further, because, although he took advantage of even the slightest opportunity to touch and play with her sensual body every time they were alone, even if it was for a moment, he did not stop there; at a family dinner, when they were sitting together, he began to sneakily rub his mother's glorious thighs under the table, sometimes coming dangerously close to brushing with his fingers her womanhood. The action was very risky, and Rita wanted to scold Lincoln for it, but after seeing a defiant look on his calm face that he gave Lynn, she lost her will. It was then that she understood: he did not do that out of voyeurism, he did it to impose his dominance over his father. It was hard for her not to moan for the rest of dinner.

The days passed swiftly, and when she least expected it, three weeks had passed since they began their unique relationship. And against all odds, Rita found out that she felt more alive and energic than ever; the rediscovered passion gave her back the characteristic spark with which she used to do all her things, and the creativity that flowed through her was such that now she could spend hours writing her new novel, without suffering from any writer's block. And that specific Friday, she spent seven hours in front of the monitor, pressing keys without stopping, and barely touching the chopped fruit that she had on her plate; it wasn't until she saw the time on her wristwatch that she realized what time it was: it was nine at night. 'I should take a quick shower.' She saved the document she was working on, turned off her computer, and got up from her seat; she took out clean underwear from her drawer, a pair of reddish pink booty shorts and a white tank top that she used as pajamas, and slipped off of her current sportswear, because after returning from the gym with a head full of ideas, she had not bothered to do anything other than write.

She started to walk towards her bathroom, but as she did it, so she realized something that was truly rare in her home: everything was extremely quiet. She did not hear the television in the living room, nor the arguments upstairs, nor the explosions in Lisa's room. Nothing but her footsteps on the carpet. She stopped right in the spot. 'Have they gone out?' she wondered. 'But I didn't even give them permission. Or did they come into my room and, when I was asked, I didn't realize it? Either way, I think I'd better dial them to find out where they are.' Rita went to her desk, but before she could take her cellphone, she heard someone knocking on her door.

"Yes?" asked she.

"It's me, mom," said Lincoln from the other side.

"Oh, son, what do you need?" At least she already knew there was someone in the house.

"Nothing, I was just wondering if you wanted to eat something. You haven't been out of your room in all day."

"Yes, I'll be out in a moment. I was just about to take a bath."

There was a small silence.

"Oh, I see…" he crooned. "So, does that mean you are naked?"

Rita, after hearing the question, instinctively brought her hands to her private parts to try to cover her nakedness. The action seemed ridiculous to her, for her son, as far as she knew, did not have X-ray vision that would allow him to see through the walls; furthermore, she felt like a hypocrite when she took into account the number of photos she had sent him in the last few weeks. 'But that was way different,' her mind whispered, 'because, as you well said, those were only photographs; this is the reality. I'm naked and only a door separates me from my hot son.'

"T-That's none of your business," she finally answered. "By the way, do you know where are your sisters? The house is unusually quiet."

"They went out to the mall to see a movie and buy clothes; then they'll go to Burpin' Burger for dinner."

"Did they tell you?"

"I was supposed to go with them. I bought them the tickets and also gave them a few coupons."

"Oh… Then why didn't you go with them?"

He laughed. "Let's just say I suddenly felt 'a little sick' to my stomach."

She tightened her lips. Definitely he was not feeling bad.

"And your father?" The pounding of her heart prevented her from controlling the tremor in her voice.

"Him? Out, like it's usual. But don't worry about that. Right now it's just you…and me."

The seductive tone with which Lincoln spoke made her head spin; she felt that at any moment she would lose her balance.

"Anyway," he said playfully. "Enjoy your shower, mom."

And just like that, she heard him walk away from her room. He didn't say anything else. He did nothing else. He simply left, and that made her feel calm…and a little disappointed.

Deciding to ignore that feeling, Rita finally went into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and waited for the tub to fill up before pouring in some citrus-scented liquid soap and make bubbles. Once everything was ready, she entered; the feel of the hot water against her skin had a magical effect, as she immediately felt the tension in her muscles release. She let out a sigh and took a sponge with which she gently began to scrub each part of her body; fifteen minutes later she was done. She reached out to remove the plug from the tub, but Lincoln's voice stopped her.

"Hey, mom," greeted he, walking into the room, and wearing only a short towel around his waist.

"Lincoln?!" exclaimed she, covering her breasts with her arms. "What are you doing here?!"

"Isn't it obvious? I came to bathe with you."

"B-B-But can't you see that I'm naked?!"

"Well, yeah. Duh! Do people shower with their clothes on?" asked he and then laughed.

"Don't try to get smart with me!" she screamed, her face furiously flushing.

"I'm not trying to play smart," countered he, kneeling in front of the embarrassed woman and coming closer to her face. "I just want to bathe with my precious mother. Is there something wrong with doing that?"

"Well…no, but—" The man's hand against her cheek didn't let her continue; his skin felt so warm and comforting that she didn't want to keep talking.

"Or is there another reason you don't want me to?" whispered he.

Another reason. Of course there was another reason: her poor willpower. The lines she had crossed with her own son were ones that a mother was never supposed to cross; and yet, with each passing day, Rita always found herself pushing the limits of the sin she was committing. And now she was right in front of another test. Endure. Surrender. Endure. Surrender. The fierce fighting that was going on inside her head left her petrified, unable to think or act. She wanted to do the right thing. The problem, however, was that she no longer knew what the "right thing" was. Because, although she had totally given in to the game of kisses, making-out, sexting, and teasing, the sole idea of crossing the barrier of sex seemed terrifying, for she perfectly knew that it would be the point of no return. It was the forbidden fruit. And Rita was sure that if she tasted it, even a little, not only would she not be able to return things to the way they were before, but she would simply not even want to try: she would give herself completely. Without barriers. Without restrictions. 'Besides,' a part of her mind argued, 'how can something so "bad" feel so good?' Was it lust the one who spoke? It could be. After all, it was not easy to ignore it's tempting voice in her situation.

Although…on the other hand…what harm could a bath between a mother and her son possibly do?

Shaking her head, and regaining her voice, Rita said, "No… It's okay… You can come in…"

Lincoln gave her a seductive smile, kissed her cheek, and straightened up. "Thank you so much."

Without him needing to say anything else, Rita leaned forward a little, giving the man enough room to get into the bathtub, and thus remain seated between his legs. There was nothing unusual about the operation, except that Lincoln did not remove his towel even when he got into the water. She decided not to ask. She just threw her head back, leaned against that broad, muscular chest, closed her eyes, and concentrated on the sensation of the constant beating of his heart. This was not so bad. She even felt comforted. For a brief moment, she felt at peace and giggled.

"Hmm?" he hummed. "What's the matter?"

"No, nothing, heh-heh."

"Okay, something's definitely going on. Tell me, please."

Rita raised her face and looked at her son with a small smile. "It's just that I remembered when you and I bathed together when you were just a child," she recounted. "Who would have thought that such an adorable and vulnerable little boy would turn into such a big, strong and handsome man?" She tenderly caressed his forearm and continued, "Now I am the one who looks small next to you."

Lincoln smiled her back. "But that's fine by me, because now I can take care of you. Besides, the luckiest one here is me, for the woman who is with me right now is the most beautiful in the whole world."

Rita's cheeks tinted with a pretty crimson color, and without hesitation she offered her lips to her son, who gladly claimed them. The contact was slow and tender: they rubbed their mouths slowly, gently stroking the skin and intertwining their hands with each other. The passivity of the kiss was charming and refreshing, and there seemed to be no intention to change or enhance it; but at a certain point, Lincoln leaned close to the woman's ear and, in a gruff voice, he said, "Mom…I want to return the favor."

"Favor?" panted Rita, not understanding her son's request, and raised an arm to caress his strong and manly jaw.

"Let me bathe you," he bluntly requested. "Let me be the one to wash your body today."

The woman said nothing; she only observed in silence the gleaming blue orbs of her son, analyzing them and trying to break down every expression and emotion that they emitted: determination…and desire. She nodded and tried to take the sponge to give it to her son, but he stopped her.

"Lincoln?"

"No. I don't need a sponge."

"Huh? Then—?"

"I'll use my hands. Just my hands."

Her breathing became heavier, her chest contracted, and the beating of her heart was so strong she could hear it pounding in her ears; but she summoned all her strength and rebuilt herself. After all, he was only going to wash every part of her naked body with his bare hands; it wasn't a big deal. She could not get excited like an inexperienced teenager or lose her composure at such a banal act as the one that was about to happen. She could not feel a tingle in her crotch as she imagined the touch of those big, strong hands exploring her body without restraint. And she definitely could not feel so aroused and fired up at being at the mercy of her son's lust.

"Do what you want," said she, turning her face away, and trying to sound disinterested.

Lincoln kissed her shoulder with passion and, after drawing a sigh from the blonde, he whispered, "Don't regret it if I do…"

Rita shuddered and silently watched the muscular arm reaching out for a bottle of fruit-scented body soap; he opened it with his thumb, poured a generous amount over his palms, and when they were soapy enough, he finally began to work on that celestial body. He started with her upper extremities, making sure to gently rub the sensitive skin of her smooth armpits, and easing the built-up tension from her delts, biceps, forearms and fingers. Then, the lower limbs followed shortly after, alternating his movements up and down, and slowly stroking the full length of her soft yet firm thighs and voluminous hips. And finally, he gently massaged the muscles of her back and shoulders, while kissing the sensual curve of her back multiple times.

If someone were to ask Rita at that precise moment where she was, she would say without hesitation that she was far beyond cloud nine. Everything around her was lost in a thick, intoxicating haze of pleasure to which she was rapidly becoming addicted to. She could not believe it. It seemed like a fantasy. But it was the beautiful reality. Who would have known that Lincoln, her son, had such an effect on her! His touch was unheard of, unreal, unnatural. Just one graze and he was able to subdue her, to turn her into a weak, trembling mess of nerves and pleasure. And worst of all was that he hadn't even touched her breasts or her intimacy yet! His fingertips traced various shapes on her belly, caressing her, tickling her, but never touching her last erogenous zones. 'Oh, why are you torturing me like this, sweetie?'

"Lincoln…?" she spoke at last.

"Tell me."

"Err… Aren't you going to finish bathing me?"

"Huh? Wasn't I finished already?" asked he, not even trying to hide the more than obvious amusement in his voice.

"No, you're not finished," replied she, not knowing whether to feel angry or embarrassed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, mom. I made a mistake and I plan to remedy it. But, just to be sure, could you tell me which parts I missed?"

"You know that already!" 'Will he really…make me say it out loud?' she wondered.

"Mmm, no. I don't." He directed his lips to the woman's ear and began to lick and nibble on the lobe. "That's why I asked. Is there something wrong with asking?"

She's had enough. She couldn't bear it anymore. To hell with her pride! If Lincoln wanted to ask questions, she would let him! She would answer anything as long as he touched her! She took the man's face with both hands, made him lower his gaze, and, in a pained and needy tone of voice, she murmured, "Lincoln…please…touch me…"

He, without looking away, took the bottle and lathered his hands once more. "Where?"

"… On my chest…"

She felt his lips resting against her forehead and heard him say, "Your wishes are my commands, beautiful."

Lincoln finally got hold of Rita's big, firm and soft breasts as she let out a deep moan that echoed throughout the room. He gently massaged the sides and the under part, while he constantly alternated the circular caresses that he gave her with his fingers; then, being more daring, he brought his hands to the front part and kneaded all the flesh he could take. Her nipples felt hard and swollen against his palms, which meant that they were incredibly sensitive, so he parted his fingers to catch between them those beautiful rosy buttons that he began to twist and pinch, while kissing, licking and sucking on the smooth skin of her neck.

What a feeling! What a pleasure! The touch of her son was fire that burned her in an unimaginable, unconceivable way. And hearing him repeatedly grunt, sigh, and whisper phrases like, "I love you so much, mom", "You are so beautiful and perfect", or "You have no idea of how long I've waited for this moment" definitely took the stimulation to new heights. She was not sure if the pleasure she was experiencing was heavenly or hellish, but she did know that it was inhuman. Plus, the feeling of Lincoln's huge, throbbing erection poking her buttocks only fueled her desire even more. And the expression on her face was proof of this, for it had become an ode to lust: her eyes rolled in all directions, she exhaled heavily her warm breath as she did not stop moaning, and her legs, from time to time, twisted from the spasms that did not stop invading her.

'Just a little more…' thought she. 'Just a little more and he will make me cum.'

Lincoln continued to stimulate her tits with one hand as the other began to slowly move down her belly. Rita was so immersed in reaching her imminent climax that she barely realized what was happening; but when she finally noticed the absence of one of the hands, it was already too late.

"L-Lincoln? What a—? Aaahhhhhh~!"

Because, before she could even finish her sentence, she felt Lincoln's skillful fingers assault her femininity: with the ring and index fingers he massaged her outer lips, while with the middle finger he gently caressed the entrance of her vagina, and at the moment that he barely brushed her clit, Rita exploded in the most powerful orgasm she has ever had in her life. The muscular spasms that spread throughout her pelvis made her arch her back to its very limit as her vaginal walls, at the same time, contracted violently and forcefully expelled the fluids that were stored inside her. Thirty seconds later, when she was just beginning to recover from her climax, she dropped onto Lincoln's chest. Her tongue was left hanging out of her mouth, while little strands of saliva trickled down her chin; her chest rose and fell erratically, struggling to fill her lungs with oxygen; and her whole body twisted and trembled between his arms.

The experience had been religious, out of this world. And although Rita's mind was still blank after reaching the peak, a flash of clarity revealed a truth to her: she did not know —nor even imagined— that she could ever feel this way in her entire life. With nothing or anyone. 'Oh, how wrong I was…'

Lincoln's arms took her by the waist, wrapping her in a hug, and he planted a kiss on the woman's cheek. "Good job, baby girl. You looked beautiful cumming for me."

Rita only nodded slightly, still trying to collect herself.

"But now we must get out, don't you think?" he continued. "We've been in here for a long time already."

Another nod.

"Good."

Lincoln got up, his body phosphorescent from the water, and got out of the tub. The towel around his waist gave in to the weight of water, but instead of falling to the ground, it hung on his penis, covering it completely. He watched his companion out of the corner of his eye and smiled maliciously when he noticed that she didn't take her eyes off him; he walked to the bar, turning his back to the woman, took a clean towel that he had brought with him, threw away the one that was wet, and began to dry himself. Once he was finished, he wrapped it around his waist again, and faced the woman: she was still sitting there, not moving at all.

"What are you waiting for, mom?"

"I… My legs are still shaking… I don't want to end up on the floor…" confessed Rita.

"I see. So, do you want me to help you?"

"… Yes…"

He grabbed another towel, walked over to her, knelt down, removed the plug from the tub, and when the water finally went down the drain, he performed his job. Rita thanked him and he smiled back at her in response. However, a second later, he reached out his arms, placed them under her sensual, curvaceous body, and effortlessly carried her bridal style. She did not protest and leaned her head against his chiseled chest. Once out of the bathroom, Lincoln walked to the double bed in the room and placed his mother on it carefully; he climbed on the furniture too, crawled over the feminine figure until they were facing each other, took both her cheeks between his hands, and took possession of those pink and full lips once again. Rita wanted to raise her arms to caress his white hair, but Lincoln held her wrists.

"No," said he. "You don't have to do anything."

"Huh? But—"

"Shh… Don't say anything, okay? You just relax and enjoy this."

"But Lincoln—"

"Do you remember what I told you that day?" he interrupted her again. "That I would be the one to pleasure you? Well, I plan to keep my promise no matter what. It's something that I want to do for you… It's something that you deserve… Will you let me?"

Rita lost herself in the deep sapphire blue of her son's eyes and was barely able to give a small nod; his words really moved her. She felt so desired and special. 'Lynn never put aside his own needs to satisfy mine…'

Giving a smile, Lincoln resumed the kiss, while still holding the woman in place. He licked her lower lip, asking for her to open her mouth, and once she did, their tongues engaged in a one-sided battle for dominance where the white-haired man basically subdued her. He separated from her to let her breathe, brought a hand to her face, specifically to her mouth, inserted his index finger and thumb in it to take out the pink, soft, slippery organ, and once outside he began to suck it eagerly, enjoying and savoring the taste of her saliva.

"Mmmph~! Haaa… Haaa…"

Then, once he was done with that area, he slowly moved down to her body, leaving a trail of wet kisses that ran all the way from her chin, neck, and collarbones, until reaching her breasts. He stopped there for a moment to admire their beauty, but quickly pulled himself together and took them in his hands. He would never in his lifetime get tired of that delicious sensation. He began to firmly knead them, always making sure not to be too rough so as to not risk hurting her, and alternated the movements in different directions; and when he closed his hands, he watched with amazement how his fingers sank into the soft, spongy flesh, almost as if they were a pillows, but with the difference that, when he released his grip, they returned to their original shape.

"Ngh! Uh… Like that…"

The nipples were as hard and sensitive as before, and Lincoln, not wasting any more time, caught them between the tips of his fingers, and proceeded to pinch and twist them the way Rita liked: he played with them, squeezing, pulling and pushing.

"Hyah~! A-Ah!"

And once they were completely erect, he brought his mouth close to one of them, and with the tip of his tongue began to trace circles all over the areola. The moans became much louder and intense, but instead of stopping, Lincoln only increased the speed of the licks, until, at a certain point, he decided to place his lips on the tempting rosy button to suck it intensely.

"Aahhhh~! L-Lincoln! Oh~! Slow down, honey!"

But he ignored her and continued using the same force, constantly alternating the attentions he gave to her body: when he kissed, licked and sucked one nipple, with his hand he caressed and kneaded the other tit. And so he repeated the operation over and over again.

Rita ceased her attempt to fight back and let herself be carried away by the pleasure that now chained her. However, she felt the need to touch Lincoln, to do something for him at the very least, so she placed her hand on his hair, while he continued to serve her. But despite the fact that she was immersed in a dense sexual fog that clouded her senses, the image of her son over her took her on a fleeting journey through the past, where, for an instant, she saw the newborn baby that used to feed from her breast. He was her son. And, as strange as it sounded, this caused a wave of adoration and tenderness to wash over the woman, who continued to comb and stroke the man.

"Continue, baby… Mmmph~! Oh, yes~! Keep on sucking as much as you desire…"

He happily obliged.

The moans intensified, both in quantity and volume, but no one said anything during the time they were in that position. However, despite wanting to carry on with his labor, Lincoln separated himself from those beautiful mounds and smiled mischievously. "Thanks for the meal, mom."

"Y-You don't have to say it that way," said Rita, her voice cracking from the lack of air.

"Why not?" countered he. "I just say what I think and believe. But…" he caressed the woman's right thigh and intensely stared at her wet intimacy, "there's still one thing left I want to taste…"

Rita's eyes widened to their limit; she knew exactly what her son intended to do. She watched as he, with his tongue, ran all the way down the midline on her stomach, starting just below her breasts, passing through her navel, until reaching the mound of Venus. She was trembling, anxious and expectant of what would happen next, because that was something she had always wanted to experience, that she wanted to feel. She had seen it in so many videos, had asked her husband for it on countless times, and yet that would be the first time that she would experience it firsthand.

For his part, Lincoln let out a gasp as he stood before the glorious and rounded prominence of his mother, while his gaze darkened more and more from the desire that such a beautiful sigh and captivating essence provoked on him. Not wanting to waste any more time, he leaned his face forward and deeply kissed the soft skin. The scream he heard only turned him on even more. He covered every little part of her pubic area with tender kisses, but always deliberately avoiding the entrance of her vagina, from which a vast amount of fluids was already flowing, as if it were a wellspring. However, a shaking hand on his head made him stop.

"L-Lincoln…" moaned Rita, with a pained tone of voice and with her eyes glistering from the unshed tears, "please… I— Y-You— Don't… D-Don't make me wait any longer, honey… Don't keep torturing me like this… D-Do it now, son… Please, please, just do it…"

That was the breaking point. The burning need to feel once again the heavenly sexual release that her son brought her made her beg. She did not ask, hint, or request: she begged. Not even with her husband had she dared to go as far as to do that —she had her dignity!—, but with Lincoln it was different. It was officially done. He was driving her crazy. And from the predatory look she saw on his face, she knew beforehand that he knew it too.

"Well…" he began, "if that's what you want…I'm not going to refuse."

He brought both hands straight to the woman's narrow, wet, swollen hatch, caressing her outer lips, delighting in their softness and lubricating his fingertips with its glistening, slimy flow. He took possession of her inner lips, parted them, and admired the image that was presented before him and of which he could only dream about before. There it was: his mother's vagina in its highest and most divine splendor. He brought his mouth to the rosy, luscious flesh, the sweat running down his back, blew his hot breath over it and gave a long lick. He loved her taste.

"Hyaahhhh~!" screamed Rita, barely keeping her sanity and feeling like she was getting even more soaked.

Lincoln continued to lick her greedily, while firmly grabbing the woman's thighs with his arms; it helped him to maintain control of the sensual task he was performing, although it also served to keep the woman still, as she did not stop kicking and squirming due to the pleasure he was giving her. And he loved that. It was more than evident that she had never received oral sex in her life, but now he was here with her, and he would use all his abilities to take her to heaven. Then he opened his mouth, devoured her vulva, and, with some effort, he penetrated her interior with his tongue; the hot and slippery vaginal walls closed on it, hugging it with euphoric force, and so he began his journey. Each fold of flesh throbbed or contracted under the thrusts and strokes of his organ, but that did not stop him, for he was looking for something in particular.

And Rita clung to the sheets, tugging and twisting them, as she panted, moaned and screamed. The electrical currents that ran through her entire spine had sensitized her in such a way that now she felt that every square inch of her body had been transformed into an erogenous zone. Every touch, caress, and lick from Lincoln made her shiver, shudder in such a way that she was no longer capable of controlling her thoughts or movements. She felt naked, fragile, vulnerable; and yet, she also felt loved, alive and attractive. She was a woman again. And the thought, coupled with the hellish pleasure that burned her, made tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes.

However, a new but familiar sensation made her jump in her place. 'I-It can't be!' thought she, feeling herself melt little by little, as her mind rapidly went blank. It was incredible, but it happened: Lincoln had found her G-spot. They both exchanged glances, she gave him a surprised one and he gave her an analytic one and judging by the smile that crossed the man's face, Rita knew exactly what was coming her way. He began his attack immediately, showing no mercy for the squirming woman who tried to escape his grasp. The lewd symphony that filled the room was music to his ears, and as the moans and pleas grew in crescendo, so did his movements. He increased the speed and force that his tongue applied in the sensitive area and wanting to bring her to the paroxysm of pleasure, he directed his thumb to her swollen clitoris and began to give her circular caresses. Each and every one of her nerve endings in her body twitched and the tears finally ran down her cheeks. Her back arched in such a way that she believed her spine would break; unconsciously, she pushed her hips against Lincoln's face; she desperately clung to his white hair; and having lost any trace of self-control, she screamed with all her might, "Aaahhhhhh~! Ohhh, baby, I'm cumming~! I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cummiiiinngg~!"

The delicious orgasmic contractions and muscular spasms of her pussy made her expel with unnatural power the sweet feminine nectar from within, and which Lincoln drank so eagerly, while he enjoyed the pressure that the soaked and hot walls of his mother exerted on his tongue. The climax was reaching its end, but not wanting it to finish, the man released one of the woman's legs only to bring his hand to her throbbing entrance and penetrated her with a finger, found her G-spot and immediately began to stimulate it, thrusting and pushing, while he sucked the sensitive clitoris with moderate force, playing with it with his deft tongue, and barely brushing it with his teeth; the curvaceous and sensual body tensed just like the first time, and not being able to spin a coherent sentence, Rita let out another powerful cry and came one more time. It was torture, but what a beautiful torture! Her body shook with moderate violence, the trembles of her arms and legs made her move involuntarily, her skin gleamed with the silver sheen of her sweat, saliva ran carelessly down her chin, and the expression on her face once again reflected the lasciviousness at its maximum splendor.

And Lincoln found her extremely charming. Because he was the first man to see her in such state, and from now on, he would make sure to be the last and only one.

"My God!" exclaimed he, licking his lips and sucking on his fingers. "I used to think that you were delicious, but now I don't know if I'll be capable of wanting to eat something other than you." He laid down next to the exhausted woman, resting his head on his hand, and tenderly caressed her stomach with the other. "You are going to get me addicted to you, you know?"

Rita, either from exhaustion or embarrassment, only managed to close her eyes. 'No… It's not like that… The one who is getting addicted to you…is me.'

"And as much as I'd really like you to take responsibility for the way you put me in," he continued, taking his mother's hand and using it to stroke his hard cock over the towel, "I'll let you rest for now. After all, I doubt that you'll be able to keep up with me in your current state."

The woman finally turned to see him, her gaze alternating between his eyes and his crotch.

"After all, it is only natural for you to be this exhausted from what had just happened. I mean, you are not used to a certain someone making you feel this way, are you?"

She unconsciously shook her head, her hand still being manipulated by the man and feeling the shaft expand between her fingers. He mimicked her and sped up the movements.

"But don't worry," he whispered to her. "I'm going to change all that. I'll make sure to rock your world."

Rita's breathing became heavy, ragged; now she moved her arm on her own, without Lincoln guiding her. Would she make him cum? She wondered. Because she wanted to make him cum. Yet he smiled, gave her a quick peck on the forehead, pulled away from her, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Anyway. Rest well, mom. And thank you very much for the lovely bath."

He was about to get up, but a pair of slender arms encircled his torso and remained perched on his pectorals, thus preventing him from leaving; her large breasts were pressed against his muscular back, making it easier for him to feel the wild beating of her heart.

"Don't…" she panted.

"Hmm? 'Don't' what?" asked he, not losing his smug smile.

"Don't…take me…so lightly…"

And after that statement, Rita began her counterattack: she kissed, licked and nibbled multiple times on Lincoln's neck, while tantalizingly rubbing her irresistible breasts up and down, giving him a sensual massage with the soft and spongy flesh that was crowned by her erect nipples. He released several sighs of approval and let her continue, without moving from his place and still caressing her smooth hands. They were like this for a couple of minutes, until she asked him to lie down; he did so and watched the woman crawl provocatively on top of him. Her legs were still shaking, but that image only helped him to fuel the lust and desire he felt for her.

"You know…" said the blonde, "it doesn't seem fair to me that I am the only one who is naked."

"Oh, really?" replied the white-haired man. "Then, why don't you do something about it?"

Rita lowered her gaze and contemplated spellbound at the statuesque and jovial body beneath her; she slowly caressed his wide, hard pectorals and slowly slid down to his ripped abs, until she reached the cloth layer. She felt nervous, but after seeing him once more in the eye and meeting that penetrating gaze, she gathered enough courage to strip her son of his last garment. Little by little, she removed the towel from him, and once outside she admired the spectacle before her, the spectacle that, whether she admitted it or not, she had longed to see again since that night. It had a fatal effect on Rita, because now, with a minimum distance between them and inside a fully lit room, she could finally appreciate Lincoln's true size: he was much larger and thicker than she remembered, and she was bloody sure that in her memory he was huge.

Lynn, not even in his wildest fantasies, could ever dream of having her dear son's perfection.

"What's the matter?" she heard Lincoln's voice. "Have you never seen the body or the penis of a man before?"

Rita was startled and looked away, blushing, but when she heard the man's laugh and turned to see him, she knew that he was not making fun of her but of his father. And the idea, for some reason she did not comprehend, made her feel goosebumps as a rush of emotion ran through her body. There he was again: wanting to impose his dominance.

Wanting to dominate her.

The problem, however, was that now she was willing to let herself be dominated by him.

She wanted to be dominated by him. By Lincoln.

By her son.

"Maybe not," replied Rita, smiling at him in return. "But you are going to change all that, or am I wrong?"

Lincoln's grin widened even more. "No, you are not wrong."

They stared at each other for a couple of seconds, until he nodded slightly, hinting that they could begin; Rita laid flat on her stomach between his muscular legs and, with some uncertainty, she stretched out her hand, ready to please her son. Her soft palm came into contact with the penis and she closed her fingers around it; it was so hot and hard and thick that she couldn't help but compare it to a rod of burning steel. She heard him let out a small growl and it was then that a primal female pleasure took over her mind; her pride as a woman —the one she thought she had lost so long ago— resurfaced with great intensity. Because she wanted more. She desired to be the one responsible for her son's pleasure. Her grip tightened and she began to provocatively move her hand up and down all along the meaty shaft; and as she went about her task, she did not know if she enjoyed more the sighs and moans that she managed to get out of him or the occasional spasms that she felt in her hand. However, when the tip of his cock began to drip precum, a switch turned on inside Rita. 'He's liking what I'm doing… He's feeling good…' And now from her vagina also overflowed nonstop her warm and erotic juices, while they slowly trickled down her inner thighs.

With her fingertips she began to trace the precum from the urethra until it was completely smeared all over his glans, leaving it shiny and slippery. She brought her other hand to Lincoln's big testicles to caress them and feel their weight, and as she did so, she continued to gently stimulate his head with her fingertips to make it ooze more of that fluid. The amount that gushed out was enough to cover the entire rod, and once it was perfectly lubricated, she began to masturbate him with both hands, one on top of the other; but despite doing this, she found out that it still was not enough to cover his penis completely. Her son was huge! But the idea only filled her with pride and desire. The speed of her movements increased, and so did the contractions. She could feel it! He was about to ejaculate! 'Yes, honey, cum,' thought Rita, totally aroused; but before she could bring him to the culmination, he stopped her.

"Lincoln?"

"I want to try something."

At first, Rita didn't understand his words. She was so close! However, she decided not to protest and do whatever Lincoln wanted. After all, what she desired the most at that very moment was to please him. "Okay," she agreed. "What do you want me to do?"

Lincoln smiled and sat on the edge of the bed, putting both feet firmly on the floor and spreading his legs. "Get on your knees."

She got out of bed and settled into her assigned place. The new perspective made her feel small and defenseless in front of her son, which only increased her arousal. "Done. Now what?"

"Use your tits."

Rita took her abundant mounds from underneath and lifted them up, making them look even larger than they already were —which caused the virile member in front of her tremble with anticipation— and slowly leaned forward, until she finally eclipsed Lincoln's penis between the valley of her breasts. The red, swollen tip protruded through her cleavage, so Rita pursed her lips and let drop a copious amount of saliva on it to moisten and lubricate it even more; she tenderly massaged the throbbing cock with her smooth, silky skin until it was completely covered in a slimy, glistening layer of drool. Lincoln would not stop growling and the woman increased the intensity of her movements, from which now emanated lewd, sticky sounds, adding even more eroticism to the scene. The exacerbated pleasure that the man was feeling at that moment exceeded the limits of his resistance, for which, not holding it in for much longer, he threw his head back and, releasing a powerful moan, he ejaculated between the breasts of his mother, who enjoyed the sensation of the hot flow spreading across her chest and getting to stain her face and neck.

The amount he released was immense, the somewhat sweet essence that she had grown accustomed to now clouded her senses, and the thick, hot sensation of the semen sliding down her skin gave her a feeling of comfort and passion. Lincoln's cock kept convulsing for a few more seconds, until it stopped and slowly slid out. The deep puddle of thick, cloudy-white liquid that had accumulated on her cleavage began to trickle out and fall to the ground, causing a light and constant pitter-patter to be heard. But despite all that, he was still incredibly hard, and along the entire length of his shaft it could be seen a glistening, pearly covering of his sperm. 'After releasing all that…he can still go on?' thought Rita, amazed at her son's stamina and libido. However, as if he had read her thoughts, he took her chin and made her look into his eyes. Neither said anything, but from the look that Lincoln gave her, she knew immediately what it was that she had to do now, and that, to be honest, she wanted to try too.

Rita put both hands on his knees to support herself, directed her face towards him and, opening her lips as wide as she could, she finally inserted a part of Lincoln's penis into her mouth. The scent of the semen immediately scattered all over her tongue, completely depriving her of any trace of rationality. Rarely in her life had she done this for her husband, and she also never let him finish in her mouth for she hated his taste. But Lincoln, once again, demonstrated the abysmal difference between them: his flavor hovered between sweet and salty, and despite being strong it was no less succulent for her. She kept her head still for a few moments to get used to the size and thickness of her son, but once she did, she began to swing her head back and forth along the greased virile member, which, after receiving that delicious attention, quivered and one more time oozed a stream of bubbling precum. Rita kept with her slow and steady rhythm, gently caressing the shaft with her soft ruby red lips and deftly licking the glans and frenulum with her nimble tongue, avoiding at all costs hurting him with her teeth, while a combination of saliva and his male fluids pooled inside of her mouth to the point where, apart from lubricating his cock and making the fellatio more pleasurable, it also leaked from the corner of her lips down to her chin.

"Oh, yeah!" exclaimed Lincoln, placing a hand on Rita's head and stroking her golden hair. "You're doing great. Don't stop. Keep on sucking, mom."

Lincoln's compliments brought her an immense happiness: listening to him like this was music to her ears, and feeling his caresses made her deepen her movements. The obscene sucking and slurping sounds grew louder as they were accompanied by her own moans of pleasure. Then the man also began to slightly move his hips back and forth, accompanying the rhythm that his mother had established and indicating that he was on the verge of climax. Rita could feel the veins pulsing beneath the skin, which increased her arousal and made her suck even harder. Silver threads of saliva hung from Lincoln's scrotum, swinging lewdly in the air in response to the woman's movements and stretching until the drops fell to the ground. Her pussy burned with desire, but her eagerness to pleasure her son was greater, and although she felt how the swollen tip pushed against the back of her throat, she did not stop. Moreover, when Lincoln, without warning, took her head from both sides and began to forcefully move her deeper and more intensely, she did not resist; she relaxed the muscles of her neck as much as she could, and when she felt a sudden expansion inside her mouth, thus reaching the longed-for culmination, she gladly accepted his creamy offering.

Rita's lips were pursed well forward, erotically circling his throbbing shaft, desperately swallowing the cum that kept shooting straight down to her throat, and helplessly trying to keep it from spilling from her mouth. Tears of ecstasy welled up in her eyes as the thick fluid that she could not swallow carelessly trickled down from the corners of her mouth down to her chin, falling onto her already sprayed tits and following its way until it hung like pearly drops from her hard rosy nipples. She let the spasms of Lincoln's cock subside before releasing it with a wet smacking sound. It took her a couple of seconds to recover from the experience, but when she did, she looked up with narrowed eyes that were clouded with lust, breathing erratically, lewdly showing off the remaining semen inside her mouth and giving the impression that her warm breath emitted steam.

"Mmm~! Haaa… Haaa… I-I hope you liked it, s-sweetie," said Rita, right after swallowing a few more times.

"I didn't like it: I loved it."

Lincoln approached her face, cupped her cheeks and without warning he kissed her tenderly on the lips again. This action took the woman by surprise, not because she did not enjoy it but because she did not believe that he would dare to do so after having had his penis in her mouth and letting him ejaculate inside it. After all, she was used to Lynn turning his face away when she gave him this service; it took her from two to three minutes to make him squirt a few drops of cum, but, although these never ended up in her mouth, her husband was always reluctant to give her a little kiss, and he even tried, in the most "subtle" way, to make his wife brush her teeth several times before even thinking about getting close to her lips.

'But Lynn is not a real man. Lincoln is.'

Rita's eyes widened. She processed what she had just thought and was immensely surprised: first, because she could not believe that she just dared to express herself that way about her husband; and second, because she agreed completely with the thought.

Deciding not to think about anything else, she deepened the kiss and let herself be carried away by the sensations it provoked on her. Minutes later, mother and son were once more lying on the bed, she on top of him, grinding against each other, kissing passionately and running their hands over their naked and sweaty bodies. Rita's skin prickled under the burning touch of Lincoln's palms: her large, spongy and sensitive breasts pressed against his strong, chiseled pecs, while one of them was being intensely kneaded; her firm buttocks were being slowly massaged and squeezed. And her soaking wet pussy lewdly rubbed against the hard and huge cock, without restrictions and without any type of barrier that would hinder their direct contact: her soft lips ran from top to bottom the entire length of the rod, leaving a glistening trail of viscous fluids on it, while the bulging glans stimulated her clitoris, sending constant electric shocks throughout her body.

They were practically having non-penetrative sex, and they were enjoying every second of it. They were deeply immersed in each other, thinking of nothing but themselves and feeling nothing but pure pleasure. The sexual fog kept growing thicker and stronger and more intoxicating, until they reached a point where Rita felt that she was no longer there. She was no longer "herself"; she was a woman. And Lincoln, suddenly, was not "himself" either; he was a man.

They were just that: a man and a woman who loved and desired each other.

But was it the right thing to do? A weak, fragile, almost mute part of her mind kept insisting. Because, although she longed to reach the top with Lincoln, she still could not forget that the man she loved and desired so much was her son. 'Can he forget that I am his mother?' Once again, she felt like a hypocrite, but the truth be told, she couldn't help it.

"I love you, mom," said Lincoln, separating for a moment from the kiss they had been giving each other for so long, but still staying connected by a glistering trail of saliva that was lengthening between their tongues. "I want you so much that I feel like I'm gonna go crazy."

Rita was taken by surprise by the comment, as it related in some way to what she was just thinking. Her chest contracted, and although that made her feel immensely happy, she decided to delve a little deeper into her son's mind. "Really?"

"I would never lie to you when it comes to this, when it comes to us."

Us. The word made her heart skip a beat.

"But…honestly…I still don't understand…" she was honest with him. "Why do you love me, Lincoln? What is it that you love about me?"

"Everything," replied he. "I love everything about you: your face, your body, your hair, your essence, your personality, your voice, your kindness and way of being with me and with my sisters. All of you is perfect, mom. I don't have a specific reason to why I fell in love with you. In fact, I still cannot conceive that a woman as beautiful as you exist in this world."

She could barely hold the urge to cry. Those were the sweetest words she has heard in a long time. Those were words that awakened her love and adoration as a mother…and as something else.

"But hey, I'm not interested in wondering that kind of things, because you are here with me. And as long as it is, I can keep loving you as I do."

'Lincoln—'

"Sometimes I regret being born as your son, because that makes it more difficult for you to see me as a man." He put both hands behind the woman's back and hugged her tightly. "But I swear I will fight to the end to change all that. I will make you love me and only me, and I will become the only man that you wish to have by your side."

There was a long silence between the two, but Lincoln didn't seem to mind; he kept looking at Rita, until she spoke, "And what's wrong with that?"

"Hmm?"

"What's wrong with me continuing to see you as my son?" asked she, looking at him with crystalline eyes. "There is no way you can make me stop seeing and loving you as the baby I once held in my arms. It is impossible for a mother to do that. You don't understand because you are not in my position."

"Mom—"

"I will always see you with that motherly love, sweetheart. Don't pretend to change something that I will always feel for you. You are and will always be my beloved son. However…" she took Lincoln's face in her hands and touched him with all the tenderness that she was able to gather, "that doesn't mean that I can't see you as the man I love and desire…"

The moral dilemma she had been through these past weeks finally came to an end, and although she knew that she could have done things differently, she was satisfied that she didn't. She was sincere with herself and with her son, and she dared to confess what her heart truly felt. With those words, she silently gave her will to Lincoln, so that he would be the one to make the final decision. And although she already knew in advance what it would be, she would gladly accept it. The man brought his hands to his mother's beautiful face and, without hesitation, kissed her. Rita closed her eyes, let out a lonely and liberating tear, wrapped her arms around his neck and, returning the touch of his lips with the same intensity and tenderness as her lover, she thought, 'So be it.'

The passion once more began to rise in the room; however, not wanting to wait any longer, Lincoln, in a single movement, turned Rita on the bed, leaving her now beneath him; she looked so charming and sensual, much more than he could have ever imagined. For him there was no doubt about it: his mother was a Goddess, and he would be the mortal who would make her completely his. He spread her legs effortlessly and began to rub the tip of his cock against the entrance of her vagina, lubricating it and preparing himself to claim her. His gaze was darkened with lust and desire, but even in his state, he stood still, waiting for Rita's approval. She looked at him straight in the eye, her face burning in crimson red, stretched out her arms towards him and, smiling lovingly, she said, "Lincoln…come…"

The aforementioned positioned himself in the correct place, grabbed the woman's smooth thighs with both hands and, pushing his hips, he slowly started entering the tight, damp and scorching hot cavity. Rita threw her head back and let out a shrill moan as she felt the huge virile member penetrate her little by little, exploring her most sacred place, stretching her out as her husband (or any other hypothetical man) never could —and never will—, and reaching deeper and deeper inside her. She tugged at the sheets, while biting her lower lip in a vain attempt to keep her sanity intact; a task that, in the end, was impossible to carry out. She was delirious, enjoying the ultimate pleasure. The continuous spasms of her pussy caused her entire body to convulse: her leg muscles trembled incessantly, and pulsing sensations ran from her head to her toes. But he kept sinking inside her more and more, coming into contact with all her sweet and sensitive spots, until he finally reached the deepest place of her femininity and, with his swollen head, pressed into her cervix.

The sensation was indescribable, inexpressible to her. Her nervous system fully twitched in less than a second, thus contracting all the muscles of her body: her back once again formed a perfect arch, while with her arms she clung desperately to his muscular back, buried her nails in his flesh, and wrapped her legs around his waist. She couldn't even scream. The arrival of that powerful orgasm was so unexpected and intense that all the air escaped from her lungs in a sigh; her mouth was constantly gaping, like the one of a fish out of the water, as she struggled for oxygen, and ecstatic tears rolled down her cheeks. He moved his hips once more, increasing her pleasure and thus succeeding in prolonging and intensifying her climax, making her overflow an abundant amount of her sweet feminine nectar, while her strong vaginal walls continued to contract around his cock, squeezing it, and not wanting to let him go.

How did he do it? She wondered. How could he handle her like that? How did he outgrow himself with every orgasm that he gave her? His ability was supernatural, and it almost seemed like he knew her body better than she did. Could it be that her son was an incubus? Maybe he was, and she was the one that he came to claim as his. Although, to be honest, it wouldn't matter to her if he did.

For his part, Lincoln felt like the king of the world, for he was fulfilling one of his greatest dreams. What he previously could only obtain in fantasies was now being fulfilled in reality.

He was finally making love to his mother, to his Goddess. To the woman of his dreams.

He had her at his mercy, beneath him, trembling in his arms, moaning his name, and longing for his touch, with nothing to interrupt them and no one to get in the way. It was only the two of them. There was no one but him to whom she looked with those loving eyes, to whom she offered her beautiful godlike body, or to whom she gave her heart.

He resumed the movements of his hips, slowly going back and forth, making sure that his thrusts were long and deep. The lewd expression on Rita's face was further accentuated, and, tightening the grip of her arms and legs, she began to move her own hips, perfectly synchronizing her tempo with Lincoln's in order to let herself be carried away by the pleasant and sensual swaying of their fiery bodies. A thin layer of sweat covered every inch of their skins, giving them a faint pearly sheen, and making sticky wet sounds to echo across the room each time they clapped against each other. The woman's salivating tongue was hanging down from the side of her open mouth, and the man, taking that as an invitation, leaned his head down, sucked her pink organ a couple of times, and gently seized her lips. Rita gladly returned that avid kiss, while obscene guttural moans kept emerging nonstop from her throat.

"Ngh~! Mmmph~! Ahhh~! Mmm~!"

Nonetheless, Lincoln, after having carried that rhythm for a long time now, enjoying the tender feeling of his mother's interior, and making sure that she had gotten used to —at least a little— his enormous size, he decided to raise the level. The speed of his movements increased considerably as well as the passion and intensity of them; he penetrated her without stopping, without giving her any respite or time for her mind to understand what was happening. With each passing second, he kept going stronger, faster, deeper, driving her crazy with pleasure and barely allowing her to register all the delicious sensations that her partner provided to her. His powerful, hard and stiff cock filled her pussy completely, stretching her out and stimulating all her weak points at the same time: when withdrawing from her, he massaged her G-spot with his engorged glans, and when sinking into her, he pushed her spongy and sensitive cervix with his potent and forceful thrusts. The ecstasy was constant, enormous, unending; she had not finished recovering from one orgasm when the other one was on its way. She had reached the highest peak from which she was no longer allowed to descend, so, unable to escape from it, she entered in a state of unparalleled frenzy. And with each new climax, Rita felt like she was being taken to paradise.

For her there was no longer any doubt: she had become a prisoner, and the jailer who subjugated her in more than a thousand ways was none other than her own son.

And Lincoln, feeling that he was also close to finishing, took Rita in his arms, without disconnecting from her, sat on the edge of the bed, placed his hands on her firm and delicious buttocks to hold her right in her place, and, with her sitting on his lap, hugging his neck with her weak arms and still wrapping her trembling legs around his waist, he began to give his all: his movements were wild, driven only by an animalistic lust in its purest form. The celestial sensation of his penis being squeezed by his mother's warm, palpitating, wet and incredibly tight vaginal walls brought him to the paroxysm of pleasure; but each scream that came out of Rita's mouth served as an incentive for him to continue, to keep pleasuring her, that being his main objective. He kept thrusting into her as if his life depended on it, all while he watched spellbound the hypnotic spectacle of her precious, abundant breasts swinging in front of him, inviting him, provoking him. He withdrew one of his hands from the woman's buttocks, extended it to one of the smooth, creamy mounds, and began to massage it, trying to cover as much skin as possible. Then, as if he had responded to a natural call, he moved his towards the other tit to suck, lick and nibble on the nipple. And when he felt a brand-new contraction around his virile member, soaking it and girdling to it, was that Lincoln realized that he was finally about to enter the heaven that he had longed for so much.

Rita was salivating, tearing up, and babbling incoherently. She was in no condition to say anything, for she was not even able to think clearly. Or, rather said, she didn't even know if she was thinking or not. By this point, her mind and body were totally separate from each other. She struggled between consciousness and unconsciousness, for she never in her entire life would have imagined that the day when she would have so many consecutive and intense orgasms would come. However, the one she most expected was still missing: the one she would share with Lincoln. And by the way she felt his cock begin to swell up inside her, she knew that he was close now. She began to clumsily move her hips, in an attempt to coax him to ejaculate, but the answer she received was one that she did not expect in the very least.

"Y-You…" whispered Lincoln, hugging her torso and immobilizing her arms.

"Huh?" asked Rita, barely catching the man's words.

"You…are mine…" he panted.

"I—"

"You're mine," he interrupted her with some aggressiveness and, from one moment to the next, he increased the speed and depth of the penetration.

"Hyaahhhh~! L-Lincoln~! Kgh~! Slow down, baby~! Mmmnnghh~! Slow down, please~! Aaahhhhhh~!"

"You're mine!" roared he, vigorously jackhammering into her, and ignoring her pleas. "Did you understand?! You are mine and nobody else's! I don't want you to sleep with that man ever again! I don't want him to touch you! I don't want you to look at him! Just stay with me!"

Rita thought two things at that moment: first, that he would break her, which, miraculously, never happened; and second, that she loved this new side of her son. So possessive, so protective.

"I am the only one who can make you happy!" he continued, still ravaging her pussy. "I am the only one who will treat you the way you deserve! Nobody loves you like I do, mom!"

They were both about to cum, and she, unable to take it anymore, used her strong vaginal muscles to milk Lincoln's penis, looked at him in the eye, and screamed, "I love you more, Lincoln! I love you more than any other man in this world! I love you even more than your father! I am only yours, now and forever!"

The man gave a couple more of fierce thrusts, until, finally, mother and son completely fused their bodies and exploded together in the most powerful orgasm they have ever had in their lives. He plunged his cock deep into her warm interior to forcefully push her cervix and impetuously release an immense amount of hot, thick semen directly into her quivering uterus, melting from the delicious sensation that enveloped him, and making sure to fill her to the brim. And Rita, after feeling a sudden expansion and the subsequent spasms inside her, contracted hard around his entire length, bathing him in her slimy, sweet nectar. Her entire body went numb; she threw her head back, with tears of ecstasy moistening up her eyes, her tongue lewdly dangling out of her mouth, and saliva carelessly running down her chin; she curled her toes, and, fighting to stay awake, she let herself be carried away by the purest pleasure she had ever felt.

They stayed connected for a long time, trying to catch their breath, and clinging to each other's body, not wanting to ever let go. Lincoln once again took the woman's face in his hands, but this time, returning to his usual gentleness, he caressed her with his thumbs and kissed her cheeks, cheekbones, forehead, nose and eyelashes. Rita let him pamper her with those displays of affection, until she also began to return the kisses and caresses; with her hands she ran over the tense and sweaty muscles of his torso and lovingly combed his hair, which was made a mess. They looked directly into each other's eyes but said nothing; they did not feel that it was necessary to do so, since everything had already been externalized.

They loved each other, as mother and son, but also as man and woman.

The two were in the nirvana, feeling like the owners of paradise. Lincoln was on top of the world, having finally fulfilled his greatest wish: his beloved mother, his Goddess, has finally become his woman.

And Rita, still getting used to that new feeling and putting aside her shame and guilt, thought that the love she felt for her son was the purest and most beautiful she had ever felt for anyone; and that this forbidden pleasure was by far the sweetest and most exquisite thing she had ever tasted.

They wished for that perfect moment to last for eternity, even when they were well aware that it was impossible. However, looking to enjoy until the last second of it, they joined their lips in a long and deep kiss full of love, tenderness and passion. And while they did, Rita no longer cared about the fact that she was cheating on her husband with her own son. After all, he was the man that she loved the most above all else since he was conceived inside her, and she belonged to him now. She was his mother, his woman, his lover, his everything.

And that was fine with her, as she no longer wanted to be with anyone else.

Rita only loved him.

Her Lincoln.

Her beloved son.

---

So, yeah, basically you already know that I translate my own stories to the English language. Yet, I've gotta say that I still feel a little uneasy with this final product. For starters, when I wrote this in spanish it took me more than a month and a half to finish it since this is my first time writing lemon. Yeah, I've read lemon and erotic stories before, but never written them. I hope this is good enough for you guys, since I know that I still have to improve my translations.

Now, if someone reaches this author note and wonders why I wrote about Rita or used this kind of dark themes like the unholy NTR, well, it just popped in my mind. I never imagined that my first lemon would be like this, but that's the best part of life: it sure gives us surprises. Besides, I find it to be outrageous that there are very few stories about Rita. I mean, come on! She is a MILF. And, in my humble opinion, MILFs are the best.

Anyway, I hope you liked this and had a pleasant time reading. If it's your desire, please give fav, follow and review. It makes me really happy to read your thoughts as it is also the way I'm able to feel fulfillment from my work or be capable of improving.

Oh, and on a last note, I'm so sorry for taking so long with the new chapter of "Brother Complex". I'll start working on it right away, and also want to thank you all for the support that story has received. You guys are the best.

Dark Dragon Of Creation