The air hung heavy with the warmth of a late summer afternoon, wrapping around me like a thick, invisible blanket. The kitchen was awash in the soft, golden glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the worn tiles.
I stood by the window, feeling the slight stickiness of the air on my skin, my fingers idly tracing the sink’s rim. My reflection in the glass caught my eye. For a moment, I stared at myself—at the way the light played over the curves of my body and my dark hair tumbled over my shoulders, hinting at the soft lines of my collarbone beneath the thin fabric of my top visible cleavage.
I had always been told I was beautiful, with an allure that seemed to deepen with age. At 42, there was a richness to my features—a fullness in my lips, a softness in my eyes—that hadn’t been there in my youth. But beauty was fleeting, and all the allure in the world couldn’t mask the ache that had taken root deep inside me, a yearning that had become almost unbearable.
The house was too quiet. Jack, my son, had turned 18 not long ago. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with the same striking blue eyes as his father, eyes that could see straight through me. I had raised him alone since he was six after his father had walked out on us. We had been through everything together—sleepless nights, teenage tantrums, the awkward years—and now he was on the cusp of adulthood. And yet, despite the pride that swelled in my chest every time I looked at him, something was missing. The house, though filled with his presence, felt empty. Too quiet.
I let out a slow breath, my chest rising and falling with the weight of unspoken thoughts. I could feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over, but I blinked them back, forcing myself to stay composed. My mind drifted back to the conversation I’d had with my doctor just a week ago.
“Lydia, you’re still in good health,” she had said, her voice gentle but firm. “But if you’re serious about wanting another baby, we must act soon.”
Her words had hit me like a shockwave, reverberating through me even now. I’d always imagined there would be more time—more opportunities. But as the years passed, the dream of having another child began to feel like just that—a dream. The doctor had suggested the rhythm method, a natural form of family planning that felt almost archaic. But I was willing to try anything, to grasp at any thread of hope.
The sound of the back door creaking open pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned to see Jack walking in. He was a vision of youth and vitality, his hair tousled from the wind, his muscles flexing beneath the fabric of his t-shirt as he moved. He gave me a lopsided grin that hinted at the man he was becoming but still held traces of the boy I had raised.
“Hey, Mom,” he said casually, tossing his keys onto the counter with an easy confidence that made my heart ache with both pride and something deeper, something almost wistful.
“Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?” I asked, trying to sound as normal as possible, though my voice wavered slightly.
He shrugged, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Same old. Just hanging out with the guys.” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me more closely. “You okay? You seem… different.”
The question lingered between us, thick with the weight of what I couldn’t say. How could I explain this yearning that had taken hold of me, this desperate desire for something more? For a baby, for another chance at motherhood, for the feeling of completeness that had eluded me for so long.
“I’m fine,” I lied, though the words felt heavy on my tongue. “Just thinking about some things.”
He studied me momentarily, his concern evident in how his brow furrowed, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he gave me a soft smile that held a world of unspoken understanding. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. You know that, right?”
I nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. “I know. Thank you, Jack.”
The evening passed in a blur, the minutes slipping away as the clock on the wall ticked relentlessly toward 7:30. The time that I had marked on the calendar, a reminder of when everything should align—the rhythm method, my fertile window, the small sliver of hope that still flickered inside me. But as the hour drew near, the emptiness within me grew heavier, a cold, sinking feeling that settled in my chest.
I found myself standing in front of the calendar, staring at the sticky note I’d placed on today’s date, the one that noted 7:30 p.m. in neat, precise handwriting. My fingers brushed against the paper, my heart pounding in my chest as the reality of it all hit me like a tidal wave. I had no one to father this baby. No partner, no one to share this moment with. The tears that I had been holding back finally broke free, sliding down my cheeks in hot, silent streams.
I didn’t hear Jack approach, didn’t realize he was there until I felt the warmth of his presence beside me. When his voice cut through the heavy silence, it startled me, making my heart skip a beat.
“Mom… you really want a baby, don’t you?”
I turned to him, and the concern in his eyes—the way they softened with understanding—only made the tears come faster. I tried to speak, to say something that would ease the tension, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I just nodded, unable to trust my voice.
Jack’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering across his face. He stepped closer, reaching out to gently wipe away my tears with the pad of his thumb. His touch was so tender, so careful, and it broke my heart all over again.
“I do, Jack,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of everything I couldn’t say. “I want a baby so much it hurts.”
He pulled me into a hug, wrapping his strong arms around me, and I let myself collapse into his embrace. The tears flowed freely now, soaking into his shirt as I clung to him. He held me tightly, his hand stroking my hair, offering comfort in the only way he knew how.
“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice steady, though I could hear the emotion beneath it. “I don’t know how, but we’ll figure it out.”
I nodded against his chest, my heart aching with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. As the clock edged closer to 7:30, the despair inside me deepened, knowing that this moment—this chance—was slipping away, just like all the others.
When I finally pulled back, I looked up at Jack, my eyes searching his for some kind of reassurance, some sign that everything would be okay. He smiled gently, his thumb brushing away the last of my tears.
“You’re not alone, Mom,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet resolve. “You’ve got me.”
I swallowed hard, trying to hold onto the lifeline he was offering me, but the reality of my situation felt too heavy to bear. I wanted to believe him, wanted to find comfort in his words, but the emptiness inside me was all-consuming.
As we stood there, the sticky note on the calendar caught my eye again, the time—7:30—staring back at me like a cruel reminder of what I didn’t have. But then, Jack’s voice, tentative and laced with something I couldn’t quite place, broke through the silence.
“Mom, do you… do you want me to help?”
My breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding as I met his gaze. The weight of his question hung between us, charged with a tension that made my skin prickle. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. I could only stare at him, my mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions I couldn’t untangle.
And in that moment, as the clock was on 7:27 pm and the world seemed to hold its breath, I realized nothing would ever be the same again.
“Jack, I—” I started, my voice barely more than a whisper, but the words caught in my throat. I didn’t know how to respond or process the flood of emotions crashing over me like waves on a stormy shore. I wanted to say yes, but he’s my boy. I… I couldn’t do it with him, but he’s the only man in my life. It was now 7:28, and the clock seemed to go in slow motion.
He didn’t let go, didn’t back away. Instead, he held me tighter, his voice soft but persistent. “I know it sounds crazy, Mom, but I’ve seen how much this means to you. I’ve seen how sad you are, how you’ve been carrying this weight. I just… I want to help. I don’t want you to feel alone in this.”
As the clock ticked closer to 7:30, the rhythm method’s crucial time, the weight of her decision bore down on her. She looked up at Jack, his eyes filled with concern and determination.
“I don’t know, Jack,” she whispered, her voice wavering uncertainly. “I want to, more than anything. But you’re my son. You do know what it means doing, you know, we… we can’t. I so want a baby so much, but mom and son sex, we can’t.”
I sighed, looked at the calendar, and then turned to him. ” Okay, meet me in my room in 2 minutes. Give me a chance to get ready.”
I walked upstairs to my room; I started to undress, each piece of clothing dropping to the floor, followed by a bra and lace panties. I was naked and got into my bed, I cant believe I am going to do this.
I lay there, my heart pounding in my chest, the weight of what was about to happen settling over me like a heavy shroud. I could hear the soft padding of footsteps on the stairs, the creak of the door as it opened, and then Jack was there, standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and anticipation.
“Mom… you ready,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.
I nodded as he made his way to the bed as started to get undressed; I swallowed hard; shit, we are doing this.
“Mom,” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. He slid off his pants, his boxers following quickly after. His cock sprang free, long and limb to the side of his leg, and I felt my breath catch in my throat at the sight of him.
“Are you sure about this, Mom?” he asked, his eyes searching my face for any sign of hesitation.
“Yes, Jack,” I replied, my voice firm and steady. “I don’t have anyone else to get… to get me pregnant.”
He climbed onto the bed, his body warm and solid next to mine.
“This is so weird laying naked next to you, my son; it’s embarrassing. You shouldn’t have to be the one doing this. I am so sorry to have put you in this situation, Jack,” I said as I was nervous.
I sighed again, “Ok, let’s get this over with when you’re ready.”
“One moment while I get it hard, Mom,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He reached down to wrap his hand around his cock, stroking it gently as he watched me.
“I’m ready, Mom,” he said as he climbed over me. I felt his cock nudging my hairy pussy. He eased it inside me, “Ah, it’s inside now; I will be gentle.”
His cock slid in with ease, as it was entirely inside me in a way that I hadn’t experienced in years. The sensation was overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing over me.
He started moving up and down on me, his chest squashed against my breast, “Ah sweetheart, ah… um…”
His pace picked up, and I could feel his cock sliding in and out of me with a rough intensity that sent shivers down my spine. My hands moved to his back, gripping him tightly as he plunged deeper, his hips moving with a desperate urgency.
“Yes, Jack,” I moaned, my voice a ragged whisper. “Just like that. Oh God, you feel so good. Um… don’t go to… fast, baby, you cant cum too soon. It would be best if you edged it so the pressure builds, as I need a lot of you know… C-cum… Mm oh fuck, to get pr-mmmm pregnant.”
“Fuck, Mom,” he groaned, his voice low and husky. “You feel so fucking good. I will go slow, honest.”
He then got up a little into a press-up position and started slowly moving his ass up and down as his cock slid in and out. He was staring at my breasts, which slightly shook.
He dipped his head, his tongue flicking out to taste my nipple, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I gasped, my fingers digging into his back as he continued to move above me, his cock sliding in and out with a maddening slowness.
“Jack,” I moaned, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Oh God, that feels so good.”
He moved his hips in a slow circle, his cock hitting every sensitive spot inside me. I could feel the pressure building, the familiar ache growing deeper with every thrust.
“Fuck, Mom,” he groaned, his voice ragged with pleasure. “I’m so close. I don’t know if I can hold back.”
“Don’t cum yet, baby,” I panted, my voice strained with the effort of holding back my own orgasm. “I need you to fill me up. I need your cum deep inside me. But please, not yet ok, love, mmmm.”
“Ohhhh, and you’re uhhhhh so big uhhhhh,” l moaned. “So much bigger than your father was.”
He started kissing my neck as he went just a little bit faster; the bed springs started to make a noise.
“Argh… Fuck, Mom,” he groaned, his voice strained. “I… I can’t hold back much longer, I am trying my best.” He said as he started to pound into me faster.
He groaned, his thrusts becoming wilder, more desperate. I could feel his cock swelling inside me, the pressure building with every thrust.
“Oh god, yes,” I moaned, my back arching off the bed as he drove into me again and again. His hips slammed into mine, the sound of our bodies coming together filling the room. I could feel every inch of him, the thick, pulsing length of his cock stretching me wide.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his breath hot against my ear. His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place as he took me with rough, primal force.
“Mmm, harder,” I begged, my voice barely above a whisper. He was more than happy to oblige, his thrusts becoming even more frenzied. I could feel him hitting that spot deep inside me, the one that made my toes curl and my back arch off the bed.
“Ungh, yes, just like that,” I moaned, my nails digging into his back as he pounded into me. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
“Fuck… Mmmm,” he groaned, and panting hard sucking in hair trying to hold back.
He continued to thrust into me with a wild abandon, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through my body. I could feel my orgasm building, the pressure growing with every stroke.
“Yes, Jack, yes,” I moaned, my voice a ragged whisper. “I’m so close. Oh God, I’m going to cum.”
He groaned in response, his thrusts becoming even more urgent as I reached the edge. I could feel his cock twitching inside me, the familiar sensation sending me over the edge.
“Oh God, yes,” I cried out, my back arching off the bed as I came hard. Waves of pleasure washed over me, my body shaking with the force of my orgasm.
He continued to thrust into me, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached his own release. I could feel his cock swelling inside me, the pressure building with every stroke.
“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he groaned, his voice strained. His thrusts became wild, his hips slamming into mine with a raw, primal force.
“Yes, baby, cum for me,” I panted, my voice strained with pleasure. “I need you to fill me up. I need your cum deep inside me.”
With a final, powerful thrust, he came, his hot seed filling me up. I could feel it spurting deep inside me, the sensation sending another wave of pleasure crashing through my body.
He collapsed on top of me, his breath hot against my neck as we both lay there, panting and spent. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close as we both came down from the intense high of our lovemaking.
“I love you, Mom,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“I love you too, Jack,” I replied, my voice filled with emotion. “Thank you. Let’s hope it works.”
A week had passed; I had sex a few more times with him to make sure.
6 Months Later since that night:
It was Saturday I woke up as I flung my legs over the side of the bed, looking over my shoulder at Jack in my bed. Yes, we share a bed now; six months have passed since that first night we did it. I got up slowly and grabbed the robe and covered my naked body, oh and my baby bumb.
I rubbed my belly and spoke to him/her, “I can’t wait to meet you.”
As I sat there, watching Jack sleep, I couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of gratitude—for the love that had brought us to this moment, for the bravery and courage that had allowed us to take this risk.
“Thank you, Jack,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Thank you for giving me this chance, for being a part of this journey with me. I love you so much.”
I leaned down and kissed his forehead gently, my lips brushing against his skin like a whisper of love. He stirred slightly, his brow furrowing as he murmured something in his sleep.
I smiled again, my heart swelling with love and pride. I knew we still had a long road ahead of us, and the journey was far from over. But as I sat there, watching my beautiful son sleep, I felt a deep sense of peace.
For the first time in a long time, I felt genuinely thrilled. I was happy to be a mother, happy to be alive, and glad to be loved and cherished by the person who mattered most in the world.
