by Olga Menson
Melinda was proud of her son then. He wasn't selfish. Or rather not entirely selfish. They wanted each other, but they hadn't let that blind them. Not really.
"Thank you for being honest, Marcus. I'm going to tell you a kind of story now like I did before, but this one isn't happy. I love you, and I want you to know that I'm telling you this because I love you."
"I...I understand."
Melinda was silent and closed her eyes for a moment. She let her mind wander back to her earlier thoughts, her visions of loss and doom. Without any warning, they coalesced in her mind into a single, precise scenario. She wanted to stop thinking about it, denied it, hated it, but it remained there, merciless and bright as cut diamond. She began to cry and felt her emotional control slipping. This was awful. What she had led her son to do was horrible. She was the worst mother that she could think of, at that moment. Then she felt a gentle pressure on her face as her son touched her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw Marcus looking up at her with such undeniable affection. She let the words spill out of her, let them out lest they poison her.
"This is a 'what-if' story, all right? It's something...that I had to consider and you need to hear. I think of us in the future. We're happy, going about our days as mother and son, and at nights, or whenever we can find the time, we're lovers. I do everything that I can to keep you happy, and you do the same for me. One day, though, things go wrong. We're making love. I can see it so clearly. We're making love on the couch, and it's rougher than usual. I like it to be a little rough, you know. I'm kind of a slut for it."
Melinda should have balked at calling herself a slut. It was such an awful word, except maybe when used in dirty talk, but it was how she felt.
"We fuck, right there, and Jessica sees us. She came home early, you see like she sometimes does. And she sees her beloved brother, fucking her mother. Being the gentle-hearted innocent girl that she is, she sees the violent nature of what's going on. You're taking me, and I'm moaning and maybe even crying a little. Yes, I do like it that rough sometimes, but not always. She assumes that you're raping me. She wonders about the times that we seem to be alone together. Suddenly it all makes sense to her."
Marcus' face was conflicted now. He was obviously aroused to hear his mother describe her interests so graphically, but all of that fell away when he heard Jessica's name.
"Jessica is a good girl, you know that. It kills her to do it, but she thinks that you've been doing this to me quite a bit, and I haven't reported you because you're my son and I love you. So Jessica does it. It breaks her heart to, but she does. Soon, the police have arrived. We've finished by then, but we haven't cleaned up entirely. The detective that arrives can smell sex on us. I deny that I've been raped, but he arrests you."
Marcus shook his head now, denying it. It was clear to Melinda that he could see this as well as she could, with the vivid candor of a documentary. She understood now that something about the exercises, their residual guilt, and the Resort itself had combined to create this effect on them. It wasn't that they were just imagining this event. They were feeling it. They were experiencing the pain and suffering and humiliation of it as if it just happened. Neither of them noticed the intense vibration of their wristbands.
"You don't talk at all. You could say it was consensual, but you deny it ever happened. The detectives don't believe you. I rush to the station and admit everything. I have to get you out of there. I tell them that you never hurt me and that I wanted it. I tell them that we're lovers, consensual lovers. The detectives are shocked. Some believe me, but others think I'm lying to protect my son, or I'm simply traumatized. The prosecution goes forward. Your father disowns you publicly and me privately. He takes custody of Jessica away."
It was hard for Melinda to continue, now. She could see the whole path to the end. Marcus was in tears. God, she wanted to stop, to comfort him, to tell him that it wasn't possible, but she knew that she had to finish. To get to heaven, you had to pass through hell.
"It takes years to go to trial, but you still won't talk. You're found guilty of rape, and the judge is harsh with your sentence. Jessica is deeply conflicted and visits you for the first time after your sentencing. She's a wreck. All she can think of is that image of you fucking me, and whether she had done the right thing or not. You refuse to tell her anything, although you are happy to see her because you know that the conversations are all being recorded. She realizes then that she was wrong. It was a consensual act, and you're covering for me."
"Jessica is horrified. She's disgusted with you and with me as well, but that's nothing compared to the guilt that she feels over putting you in jail. She leaves the area, changes her name, starts a new life. I stay in the city. I've lost my job, but I find something menial. I visit you in prison too, and occasionally pictures of me end up on tabloid sites."
"I go through the motions, and you suffer terribly from the other inmates, who think of you as the lowest of the low. It becomes clear to me that you won't survive prison. I've tried to hire a lawyer to get you an appeal, but it all breaks down because of how I'm viewed. We lose all contact with Jessica until we get the news. I get a call. She died alone, in a run-down apartment. There was no doubt that she killed herself. She left a note begging you for forgiveness, and...and...you follow soon after. We both do."
Melinda couldn't go on anymore, she felt old and used and tired. Marcus's eyes weren't entirely focused on her or anything, and his forehead was covered in a cold sweat. That scared her. This was too much, far too much. What sadist wrote these exercises? How dare they manipulate people to violate taboos and then punish them for it. She found herself moving, shifting her body down, kissing her son on his forehead.
"It's all right, baby. It's done. The exercise is done, ok? The...the process does something, it makes it seem real, but it's over now. No more. I love you, all right, I love you so much. Please say something, baby. We don't have to do anything ever again but just say something."
"I'm...okay," was all Marcus could get out, but it was enough. His eyes were focused, his face began to flush a bit. He was back to the room, with her. The fear-driven imaginings were over. Melinda kissed him then, slowly and softly. She knew that she couldn't make love to him, not yet, but she moved her hand down and found his cock. He was soft, the awfulness of the story had made him so, but he surged to hardness again in her capable hand. In a moment, she felt the slick wetness of precum on her palm, and she smiled at her son.
"Touch me, please, baby. I need your comfort now." Melinda said the words because they were true, not because the guide told her too. She needed her son then more than she had ever needed any man. Marcus brought his hand to her sex and inserted a finger deftly inside of her. God, she was so ready for him.
"Mom," Marcus said, gasping, already close, "It won't happen, will it? We won't let it. We'll be careful, and...and we'll never hurt Jessica by making her see that?"
"No, it won't. But we have to know...fuck that feels good baby, keep going that deep. We have to know, so we understand what the consequences are if we aren't careful. I love you, Marcus. I love you so much, and I need you. I need you to fuck me, baby. I need to be your lover and your..."
Melinda was aroused then, far more than she had been even seconds before. Her words were interrupted by the hot stream of seed from her son's cock, stroking her belly and breasts and even her face. Marcus was gasping and groaning, cumming so hard that it was almost physically painful for him. She felt the last few spurts flowing into her bush, and it was too much. She was marked by her own son's cum. She was his now, and he was hers. She came on Marcus' fingers, crying out, shuddering, falling further in love with him. Soon, they were quiet, the only sound their panting and gentle kisses.
They had weathered the storm. They would last.
* *
It didn't take them long to recover from their efforts, but they were in no rush to move. They were close, touching, and talking about everything and nothing. Melinda was surprised to
realize that she felt not only relaxed but also energized. The exercise had been cathartic, helping her to release the last of her fear and guilt, breaking the chains of taboo forever.
Well, most of them. There was still enough shame to make it incredibly hot. Melinda thanked Lacy and those behind the Resort for their research silently because she knew that she and her son would never have grown this close without them.
Eventually, Melinda and Marcus stood and dressed, almost wordlessly. Marcus wore shorts and a plain tee-shirt. Melinda put on a bikini. It was one that she had purchased years ago and never dared to wear, and perhaps a little small now, but the way her son looked at her was very gratifying. She threw a short sash on over the bottoms, always feeling a bit shy of flashing what she regarded as her overly-plump ass, but she was more confident about the way her tits slightly overflowed the cups on the top. Marcus casually groped her breasts before they left the room, and she found herself loving it, pushing herself into his hands. If any part of her body pleased her man, she would let him use it.
They left their hotel in the late morning, stopped at a nearby cafe on the resort for breakfast, and then idly walked down the beach. Thanks to William's warning, they were not startled when they saw various forms of group sex taking place on the beach and in the more private alcoves that they passed. Sharing must have been a common fantasy, even if it wasn't one the majority indulged in.
About a half a mile down, they found their friends, although they did not attract attention. William and Angela were both on their back, and both being ridden by a lovely dark-skinned mother and son. All were enjoying it, and William and Angela were holding hands while they both were passively taken. Melinda thought, to her surprise, that it was strangely romantic, in its way.
"I can't do it, Mom," Marcus said, finally, his voice slightly anguished, "I can't watch you get fucked by a stranger or a friend. I...I need you to be mine. It drives me insane that you have to fuck Dad."
Marcus' sudden outpouring surprised Melinda. She turned and faced her son, taking his face in her hands, looking up into his eyes. He was a man, but he was her boy, still, and reassurances were needed sometimes.
"I don't want to fuck any other men but you. And I'm not going to have sex with your father anymore. Now that you know he's a cheater and...well. We barely have any sort of sex life anyway, and what we have had has been far from anything like making love. Some people don't, but I...I need that in a partner. It isn't something nice, I need to be with someone that I trust and love and who returns my feelings. I can't cum otherwise. I just can't. But you haven't had any trouble making your mother cum, have you?"
Marcus blushed to hear his mother's words, and she smiled.
"I don't have any right to make demands like that of you," Marcus said, "but I just want you to be mine. For a while, anyway. I don't want to date anyone else, either. I'm lost to anyone but you."
They kissed then, long and slow, Marcus' hand around his mothers bare back, and she felt a new urgency grow inside of her. She had to have her son, and soon. But the guide had been explicit. They had to discuss it first. She took her son's hands in her own.
"You do have a right, Marcus. You're my man now. We belong to each other. That's what this is about. I understand it better today. We couldn't get closer without overcoming what was holding us back, and now that we have, I wouldn't ever endanger it. Speaking of which, we have one more step to take."
"I want you so badly, Mom."
Melinda smiled.
"Good. Because I need your cock inside of me in a way that I've never felt before. Before we do anything, we need to talk about it, though."
So they held hands and began to stroll again, the farther they went, the more deserted the beach became.
"Um, how, uh, do you want to do it, Mom?"
Marcus' stuttering shyness was somehow irresistible to Melinda. Even after all this, she realized, he was afraid of letting her down.
"Well, I've had a fantasy since we first arrived. I've never had sex on the beach. I know that there are problems with sand, but I can't get it out of my head. I have this image of you taking me from behind, making me scream your name. I don't care if anyone walks by us, but I do want it to be a bit public. I want there to be a chance that people see my handsome son fucking me. I want them to know how he makes me feel and how he owns me. I want them to know that he's off-limits to anyone else."
"Wow," Marcus said, "were you thinking of doing this soon? Like on this walk?"
Melinda stopped. It hadn't occurred to her at first, but yes, now that he'd mentioned it, she desperately wanted to fuck him soon.
"Yes, Marcus, is that all right?"
"God, yes, um. Honestly, there's something I need as well if it's all right with you."
Melinda smiled.
"Of course. What do you want me to do?"
"I want us to face each other. I know that missionary is supposed to be boring but...I want to look you in the eye when I cum. I want to watch you being filled. I need it, actually. I need to see that you're mine. I can't explain it, but it's how I've been...fantasizing about you."
Melinda heard an aroused huskiness come over her voice. Would she ever get used to her son talking like this? She hoped not.
"Yes. Yes, I want that very much. Let's try and find a spot. I...I really need you. I can't wait much longer."
Now it was Melinda leading her son, almost dragging him, to his amusement. She was filled with this anticipation, this longing. She thought she might not even cum, but she didn't care. She needed her son inside of her, needed him like air and food and water. She kept looking but couldn't find a place that felt right. Her mind seemed clouded with lust, and she felt her focus begin to slip.
"What about over there?" Marcus asked, softly, pulling his mother gently to a halt.
Yes, there! How had she missed it? There was an alcove here, even as far away from the center of the Resort as they were. It was different than the others, somehow. They entered it together. It was more of a grove, surrounded as it was by trees and thick tropical foliage. The ground was shaded and covered in soft moss, and benches lined the inside. An artificial stream ran through the shaded center, and there was a sense of unreality to it as if it was another world, but it still had a large enough entrance that it was likely that someone might walk by and witness their love.
It was perfect.
Without a moment's hesitation, Melinda turned and pulled her son's shirt off of him. She smiled as he reached around behind her and untied her bikini top. She felt the support give way, and the brisk breeze stiffen her nipples as she unbuttoned her son's pants. Marcus stepped out of them and then knelt before his mother. She gasped as her son took her sash off and suddenly pulled down her bottoms, hard.
Melinda almost fell then, startled as she was, but she felt her son's hands on her buttocks, steadying her. He was so strong, and she was at his mercy. She felt herself vibrate as if her entire body was electric. She allowed Marcus to lower her down to the soft moss, and she lay back, feeling her breasts settle. It wasn't wet but rather dry and cool, and she parted her legs almost shyly. She had never felt any more vulnerable with a man. Her entire emotional being was open to her son, and if he were to stop now, she felt like she would die.
Marcus watched her for a moment, still on his knees, and made no effort to come closer. Melinda held her hands out in an age-old gesture of want, and she moaned. She couldn't speak, not even to beg. Her son had reduced her to this, and she loved him for it. She needed him.
Marcus smiled, and his gaze took on a hunger, a fierceness. He moved swiftly over her and buried his face in her wet pussy. It wasn't a calm, precise thing that he did, it was devouring. She shuddered and cried out and came, sudden and sharp. He kissed and nipped his way up her belly then to her breasts. She felt him latch on to her with his hot mouth, sucking and squeezing the nipple tightly between his lips. His free hand groped her savagely while his other held her neck in a way that was both supporting and
simultaneously claiming. Melinda's thoughts poured out of her then. She had no resistance or filter. Her fears and desires mixed.
"Marcus, please. Please take me. Please fuck me. Please just me. No one else. Only me. Give me your cum. Mark me. Make me...oh, fuck!"
Melinda's thoughts stopped entirely, she was a blank slate. There was only one thing that mattered, and that was that her son's cock, the man who she had given birth to just over nineteen years ago, was pushing its way inside of her. Only the head, and not even entirely at that, but her body arched. She came again. This had never happened to her before, and she was gasping and struggling to breathe. Marcus reacted with concern, afraid that he had hurt her, but she wrapped her legs around his flanks and her arms around his back and pulled him deeper. Deeper. She needed all of him.
Melinda shook and sobbed as her son slowly entered her. Dimly, some awareness remained and appreciated that he did not merely thrust inside her, knowing that it would hurt her in ways that she did not enjoy. The core of her being, however, desired more of him. Why was he resisting her so? Didn't he understand that his mother needed him? Finally, after so much slow movement, she felt him bottom out inside of her. He filled her entirely, but he did not hurt her, did not hit her in places that would make her cringe in unpleasant pain. He was perfect.
Marcus kissed her then and swiftly moved to maul her neck with his teeth. She rolled her hips and clenched her legs, urging him to fuck her, and finally, at last, he began to move in and out of her. Long strokes, perfect strokes, filling her, filling where he had been made. He was returning home, as he should, as all men should. She pushed back with each thrust, and soon, the sound of flesh on flesh filled the small alcove.
Marcus grunted, increasing his pace. Melinda moaned and cried out, and he tenderly cradled his mother's head. She felt him swelling. They had not been going for very long, but she understood. She knew that this first time wouldn't take long for him. Melinda was unexpectedly taken again by another orgasm, then another, and another. Still, her son mercilessly thrust inside her. She was incredibly sensitive now, her whole body an erogenous zone.
