That Night in My Son’s Room

To make it clear how we got to that point, I have to start at the beginning.

Matías is eighteen, and since September he’s been studying Engineering at the public university on the far side of the city. The round trip takes almost two hours by public transport, so he leaves early every morning and usually doesn’t get back before seven in the evening. It’s been just the two of us for six years, since his father went to live in another city with a younger woman than me. The thing is, Matías and I were left on our own, and that made us very close. Or so I thought.

Because by the end of October something changed in him. I don’t know if it happened gradually and I didn’t notice, or if it was sudden, on some specific day I no longer remember. What I do remember is that one afternoon he came back from campus, crossed the living room without greeting me, and went straight up to his room. No usual kiss on the cheek. No usual “What’s for dinner, Mom?”

I let it go. I thought he must have had a bad day.

But the next day it was the same. And the next.

After a week of that, I asked him directly while we were eating dinner.

—Are you okay? Did something happen?

—I’m fine —he said without looking at me.

—Matías.

—I’m fine, Mom.

I let the fork fall onto my plate harder than I meant to and stared at him until he looked up.

—You’ve gone ten days without talking to me like I’ve done something to you. If I made a mistake, tell me.

He hesitated. I saw his jaw clench, the way his father used to when he was searching for the right words.

—You didn’t do anything —he said at last—. It’s something with me. It’ll pass.

It didn’t pass.

***

The Friday of that week I got home earlier than usual. I’d canceled a meeting and took advantage of it to leave early. The house was silent. I went upstairs to change, and as I passed his room I saw the door half open.

I wasn’t going to look. I had no reason to look.

But I did.

Matías was sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hand and his pants lowered to his thighs. He had his cock gripped in his other hand and was jerking himself off slowly, watching something on the screen. When I peered in, I heard perfectly the wet sound of his hand sliding up and down his hard dick. He wasn’t looking at the screen anymore. He was just sitting there, elbows on his knees and back curved, with his stiff cock pointing up, shiny with saliva or whatever he’d put on it.

Then he looked up and saw me.

He didn’t look away. He didn’t cover himself. He didn’t let go of his cock. I didn’t look away either. It was only a second, maybe two, but enough for me to see clearly the size of my son’s dick, how thick it was, the veins standing out along the shaft, the swollen, exposed head. And for him to see that I had seen him.

I stepped away from the doorframe and kept going to my room. I locked the door. I changed slowly, as if moving in slow motion might sort out what was tangled up in my head. I sat on the edge of my bed and noticed my panties were wet. Soaked. I took my fingers to my pussy over the fabric and almost came from the contact alone.

It was nothing, I told myself. Just a look.

That night I couldn’t sleep. I touched myself three times in a row thinking about Matías’s cock and came biting down on the pillow all three times.

***

The following Sunday he was the one who started the conversation.

I was in the kitchen making coffee when I heard his footsteps on the stairs. He came in, sat on one of the stools at the counter, and watched me while I poured. He didn’t say anything until I set the cup in front of him.

—I need to tell you something —he began.

—I’m listening.

He took a deep breath. I looked at his face and saw he was genuinely nervous. His knuckles were white around the coffee cup.

—I’ve been feeling something for a while that I shouldn’t be feeling —he said—. And I don’t know what to do with it. That’s why I’ve been weird these weeks. It’s nothing you’ve done.

I waited.

—Something like what? —I asked softly.

It took him a moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

—That I get hard when I see you. That I can’t stop imagining fucking you. That. Attraction to you. The kind that shows through my pants every time you come into the kitchen in that short robe.

The silence that followed lasted a long time. I could hear the neighborhood outside, a car passing, a dog barking in the distance. All the normal noise of the world carrying on while mine came to a complete stop. And while I felt my pussy start to wet again just from hearing him say it.

—I know it’s wrong —he said quickly—. The other day you saw me jerking off thinking about you. I don’t want to play dumb. I was thinking about you, Mom. Your tits, your ass. And from the look on your face, I think you realized it too. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know because I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.

—Matías...

—You don’t have to do anything about this. Really.

I leaned against the sink with my hands behind me and looked at him. He was eighteen. He was my son. He was the same boy I had taught to tie his shoelaces and taken to the doctor when he broke his arm at eleven and watched grow up in the room next door every day of his life.

And at the same time he was a man. With broad shoulders and his father’s hands and that thick cock I had seen on Friday and which right now, I could swear, was already starting to show again under his pajama pants.

—Give me time —I said—. To think.

He nodded without saying anything else. He stood up, left his coffee untouched, and went back upstairs to his room. I stayed in the kitchen with my thighs clenched, feeling myself drip inside.

***

I spent two days unable to think about anything else.

I told myself it was impossible, that it was wrong, that there was a very concrete reason why that kind of thing isn’t done. I told myself Matías was young and confused and that in time this would dissolve on its own. I told myself that if I just let time pass, everything would go back to normal.

But at the same time I kept thinking of that stiff cock pointing at the ceiling. The way he held it. The way he looked at me while he talked, with a honesty I hadn’t seen in anyone in a very long time. And I touched myself. God, I couldn’t stop touching myself. In the shower, before bed, waking up at four in the morning with my hand between my legs. I came imagining my own son fucking me against the kitchen wall.

On Tuesday night I went down to his room.

I knocked once. I heard his voice on the other side telling me to come in.

He was at his desk with his notes open. He turned when I entered and froze, waiting. I didn’t ask if I could sit down. I went to his bed and sat on the edge. I was wearing a short nightgown, nothing underneath. He noticed. He let his eyes travel down my thighs and back up again.

—Are you still thinking the same thing you told me? —I began.

—Yes —he said without hesitation.

I nodded slowly.

—Just one thing —I said—. Are you sure you know what you’re asking for?

—I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to fuck you, Mom. I’ve wanted it for weeks.

I looked at him. And he looked at me. And what happened next wasn’t an impulse or an accident or something we didn’t know we were going to do. It was a decision.

I moved closer and put my hand on his jaw. He didn’t move. I brought my face to his very slowly, giving him time to pull back if he wanted. He didn’t pull back.

I kissed him.

It was a soft kiss at first, almost tentative. Then he put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me closer, and it wasn’t soft anymore. He slid his tongue into my mouth with a hunger I had never felt in any other man. I bit his lower lip and he groaned into my mouth. I ran my hand down his chest to his crotch and squeezed him through his pants. He was rock hard. As hard as on Friday.

—Fuck, Mom —he panted.

—Shut up and let me —I told him in his ear.

***

I got off the bed and knelt between his legs while he stayed in the desk chair. I unbuttoned his pants with steady fingers and tugged his boxers down in one pull. His cock sprang up, hard, thick, pressed against his belly. Even bigger up close than it had seemed on Friday. I stayed a second looking at it, feeling the heat it gave off a handspan from my face.

—Look at me —I told him.

He looked down. I grabbed his cock at the base with my hand and squeezed it. I stuck out my tongue and licked his head from bottom to top, slowly, gathering the drop of fluid on the tip. I heard him hold his breath.

—Tell me how you like it —I said.

—I don’t care. Whatever you want. Fuck.

I took all of him into my mouth. Or as much as I could. I got halfway down the shaft and felt the head touch the back of my throat. I grabbed his balls with my other hand and weighed them, soft, warm. I started moving my head slowly, sucking him with my mouth closed tight around the shaft, letting my tongue rub along the underside. I pulled his cock out of my mouth with a wet sound and ran my tongue over the entire underside, from his balls to his head, and took him back in again.

—Jesus, Mom. Jesus.

I looked up at him without taking his cock out of my mouth. I wanted him to see how his mother was sucking him off. I wanted it burned into his head. I picked up the pace, sucking harder now, letting my mouth fill with saliva and dribble down my chin. I kept my open hand on his lower belly and felt his muscles tightening.

When I felt him getting too tense, when I knew he was about to cum, I pulled back and stood up.

—Good? —I asked, my mouth shining.

—I was about to cum.

—I know. That’s why I stopped.

He kissed me this time. With more confidence than before, with more certainty in his lips. He tasted his own flavor in my mouth and that only made him worse. He grabbed me by the waist, lifted me off the floor like I weighed nothing, and laid me on his bed on my back.

He yanked my nightgown over my head. I was naked beneath him. I watched his eyes go to my tits and stay there for a moment, staring at them as if he couldn’t believe they were right in front of him.

—Touch them —I said.

He grabbed them both at once. Squeezed. Pinched my nipples between his fingers and I arched my back. He lowered his mouth and sucked one while kneading the other. I grabbed his head and pressed it against my chest.

—Harder. Bite me.

He bit my nipple. It tore a moan from me. He moved to the other one and worked it the same way, and I was writhing beneath him feeling my pussy soaking the sheet.

He came down my neck, my collarbone, lower. He passed over my navel, over my belly, and stopped kneeling between my legs, staring at my cunt. He opened it with his thumbs. I lifted my head to look at him and saw his face become focused, like when he was a kid trying to put together something difficult.

—You’re soaked, Mom.

—I’ve been like this for days because of you. Lick it.

He lowered his face and licked me from bottom to top with his tongue flat. I shook all over. He didn’t have the technique of someone experienced, but he had something many experienced men don’t: attention. He paid attention to everything, to how my body reacted, to what made me close my eyes or curl my fingers in the sheets. He was learning as he went. I guided his head with my hand to my clit.

—There. Suck me there.

He took it between his lips and started sucking. He slipped a finger inside me. Then two. He curled them and moved them against my cunt wall while he licked me, and I didn’t take long to cum. Hard. I closed my thighs over his head and pulled his hair and came in his mouth, clenching my teeth so I wouldn’t scream loud enough to be heard from the street.

He came up to my face with his chin shining. I kissed him all over.

—Put it in me —I said, my voice broken—. Now.

—Are you sure?

—Put it in me, Matías. Put your cock in me.

I guided him with my hand. I set the head of his cock at the entrance to my pussy and felt him push. He entered slowly, opening me, filling me little by little. He was really big. It took me effort to take him all the way. When he was finally all the way inside me, I heard his breathing change completely.

—Fuck, Mom. You’re so tight.

—And you’re so thick. Move.

He stayed still for a moment, as if taking in the sensation. Then he started moving. It was awkward at first, as it always is the first time, with that uneven rhythm of someone who still doesn’t know the other body. But he found the rhythm on his own, without me saying anything. And once he found it, everything else fell into place.

He started fucking me for real. Driving it to the hilt and pulling almost all the way out and then shoving it back in with one thrust. The bed creaked against the wall. I dug my nails into his back and opened my legs wider so he could get in better.

—Like that. Like that. Harder.

—Do you like how your son fucks you, Mom?

—I love it, fuck. Harder. Break me open.

He grabbed my legs and set them over his shoulders. He leaned forward, folding me almost in half, and started driving into me from above, his cock going all the way deep. I was moaning openly now. I didn’t bother trying to hide it. I looked him in the face while he fucked me and watched his eyes shine, how he clenched his teeth, how he bit his lower lip to concentrate.

At some point he turned me over without taking it all the way out. I ended up on top of him astride him and took control. I saw his face from above, his eyes half-closed, the focused expression of someone trying to hold on. I planted my hands on his chest and started moving. I rose until only the head stayed inside me and then dropped back down in one sharp motion until I sat all the way on him. My tits bounced in front of his face. He grabbed one with his hand and took the nipple of the other into his mouth.

—Look at me —I told him.

He lifted his eyes to mine without letting go of my breast.

—I’m your mom. And you’re fucking me.

—You’re my mom. And you’re mine.

He grabbed my hips and pushed me down with each movement, helping me take him to the hilt. I leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth while I kept moving on top of him. I bit his lip. He slapped my ass. Hard. He did it again. I laughed into his mouth.

I looked him in the eyes when he reached his limit. He held everything in except his breath, which escaped in a long sound from very deep inside him.

—I’m going to cum, Mom. I’m going to cum.

—Inside. Cum inside me.

—Sure?

—Inside, Matías. Fill me.

I felt his hands clutch my hips hard for the first and only time before he let go. I felt him throb inside me, shot after shot, filling my pussy with hot cum. I kept moving slowly on him, milking him dry to the last drop, until he had to ask me to stop because he couldn’t take the sensitivity anymore.

I collapsed onto his chest with his cock still inside me. I felt it soften inside and the semen start to run down my thighs onto the sheet.

***

After that, we stayed silent for a long while.

I laid my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat return to a normal rhythm. He had one arm around my shoulders, saying nothing. His free hand moved slowly over my back, from my neck to my ass, again and again. Outside, the neighborhood went on as before.

—Are you okay? —I asked at last.

—Yeah —he said—. Very.

—Was it what you imagined?

—It was better.

I smiled against his chest. I could feel him getting hard again beneath my thigh. At eighteen, you recover fast. I lowered my hand and took hold of him.

—Again? —I asked.

—If you want.

—At this hour you’re not studying anything else.

—I wasn’t planning to study.

I got onto all fours on the bed and turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. I showed him my ass spread open, my pussy still dripping with his cum. I watched his cock go fully hard again in a matter of seconds.

—Then come here and finish what you started —I told him.

And he came. He got behind me and buried himself in one thrust, all the way in, and grabbed my hair and fucked me like he’d been wanting to do it for years. And maybe that was true.

I don’t know what changes after something like that. I don’t know whether anything changes, or whether everything changes all at once and you don’t realize until much later. I know that night I slept in his room, with his cock still inside me. I know that the next morning he made my coffee, without me asking, and left it on the counter with a calm little gesture. I know I drank it naked on one of the stools while he watched my tits from the other side of the counter and his cock was showing again under his pajama pants.

I sucked him off right there in the kitchen, before he left for university. And that afternoon I came alone thinking about how he was going to put it in me when he got back.

I can’t explain it any other way.

I only know there’s something between us that didn’t exist before. And that we both know perfectly well what to do with it.