The Night My Mother Called Me to Her Room

Mariana locked the door of the room where little Sofía slept and walked to the bathroom, her pulse already racing. Between her legs she still felt the hot echo of the previous dawn: the firm weight of her son’s cock pressing against her ass while the two of them pretended to sleep. Just remembering it made her nipples harden beneath the thin robe, throbbing and wet.

She had been the one to ask him to stay sleeping beside her. The baby only calmed down in Sebastián’s arms, and when she finally fell asleep, he would lie down next to Mariana without really knowing what to do with his arms. Inevitably, around four or five in the morning, that young, warm body would turn in its sleep and that hard, thick bulge would end up nestled between her ass cheeks, throbbing against her for hours. A whole week had gone by with exactly the same thing happening.

Several times, when she went in to wake him in the morning, she had seen the little tent of fabric his erection made beneath the sheet. At first she looked away right away, almost embarrassed for him. In the last few days, it was getting harder and harder to do that. She had seen him naked as a boy, a thousand times, and also as a teenager once or twice by accident: changing out of his swimsuit on the beach, coming out of the shower with the towel half slipping off. She always pretended to be unfazed even though her face burned. Sebastián would turn red with embarrassment, and she would smile as if nothing were happening. She had never looked at him with desire. Until now. And every time she did, she couldn’t help comparing him: neither the boy’s father nor the absent Hernán had ever had a cock that big, that thick.

She put a hand to her chest and squeezed gently. A warm stream leaked from her nipple and wetted her fingers. She closed her eyes and began to massage herself slowly, enjoying that pressure that was both relief and pleasure. Suddenly, the image of her son’s erect cock burst into her head with brutal clarity. She froze, her heart slamming against her ribs. What am I doing? The thought hit her like a wave of guilt, but instead of stopping her, the taboo fanned the fire between her thighs. She knew it was wrong. She knew it was forbidden. The heat was unbearable anyway.

Her trembling hand moved down to her sex and she began to rub herself softly. The folds were already swollen, slick, taking her in without resistance. She slipped in one finger, then two, feeling how the narrow cavity greedily wrapped around them. She opened her mouth in a silent moan and squeezed her eyelids shut. In her imagination it was Sebastián penetrating her from behind, holding her by the hips with strong hands, one hand squeezing her heavy breasts, the other delivering a hard smack to her ass that made her flesh tremble. The thought shook her. She bit her lip so she wouldn’t moan out loud and quickened the rhythm, curling her fingers forward, searching for that spot that drove her crazy. My God… how can I get like this over my own son?

The orgasm hit her with almost violent intensity. Her inner walls clenched around her fingers while a hot gush soaked her hand and the fabric of her nightgown. She stayed there panting, trembling. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. A lot more.

She hurriedly took off her clothes and stepped under the hot shower. The stream fell over her skin like a continuous caress. She touched herself again immediately. With one hand she massaged her breasts, expressing the milk that still leaked and letting the water carry it down her belly; with the other she sank two fingers deep into her vagina, pumping in and out with a wet, obscene rhythm. Water slid between her thighs, mixing with her fluids. She focused on her clit, quick circles at first, then slower and more deliberate, feeling pleasure rise like an unstoppable wave. She slipped in a third finger, stretching herself, imagining it was Sebastián’s thickness opening her for the first time. When the second orgasm came, it was so intense she couldn’t help a long, rough moan. Her knees went weak. The baby stirred in the crib and Mariana froze, heart in her throat, but no one appeared. She finished washing herself with her legs still trembling, exhausted and at the same time more alive than she had been in years.

It had been more than a year since she had felt a man inside her. And never, not even on her best nights with Hernán, had she come that hard just from touching herself.

***

Her relationship with Sebastián had changed without either of them planning it. Since the day she showed him the pregnancy test, crying because the baby’s father had disappeared, he had become her unwavering support. He went with her to appointments, massaged her swollen feet at the end of the day, was there in every difficult moment. During labor they sent him out because of complications, but knowing he was behind the door calmed her like nothing else. Little by little, tenderness had been tinted with something deeper and more dangerous. Now, when she nursed Sofía, she felt her son’s burning gaze on her bare breasts, and instead of covering herself, a warm wetness settled between her legs, always accompanied by the same inner whisper: look at him, he’s a man now.

Sebastián, for his part, could no longer see her only as his mother. Mariana was thirty-six and he was twenty, but they seemed almost the same generation. She was tall, with wavy chestnut hair she usually tied back in a loose ponytail, and a body the pregnancy had made more voluptuous: wider hips, full heavy breasts, and a firm ass that looked delicious beneath the tight jeans she was gradually wearing again. He was secretly obsessed with her, and for weeks he hadn’t been able to sleep without masturbating while thinking about her scent.

—Sebas, can you come here for a second? —she called one morning from the bedroom.

When he went in, she was sitting on the bed with the baby in her arms. She unfastened her nursing bra and pulled one of her heavy breasts out. That morning they were especially swollen, full to the brim, with a blue vein crossing the pale skin. Sebastián blushed and looked away, but he couldn’t stop his cock from starting to harden inside his jogging pants. While Sofía sucked greedily, he set up the crib off to one side and left almost fleeing, his erection throbbing painfully against the fabric.

That same night, like so many others, she asked him to sleep beside her.

—Come on, get closer, I’m cold.

Sebastián pressed against her back, trying to keep his pelvis as far away as possible. The cold air conditioning was the perfect excuse.

—Ma, do you want me to put on another blanket?

—Yes… No, better hug me. I can’t sleep with so much stuff on top of me.

He turned and awkwardly put an arm around her waist, keeping his hips apart. Mariana felt that resistance and smiled in the dark. Soon both of them seemed to be asleep.

Near dawn, she woke him with gentle taps on his leg. Sebastián opened his eyes and horrifiedly realized that his cock was completely out of his shorts, erect, pressing hard between his mother’s ass cheeks.

He almost jumped backward, awkwardly adjusting his clothes with clumsy fingers.

—Sebas, get closer, I’m cold —she asked in a soft but firm voice.

—Did you already check on the baby? —he asked, almost voiceless.

—Yes, she’s still asleep. Don’t make noise.

He came closer again, clenching his legs to control the erection. But Mariana pressed herself completely against him, feeling the hot, hard member rubbing once more against her ass. Heat flooded her instantly. It had been so long since she’d felt such raw arousal. With her breathing quickening, she wondered if it was normal to get this wet from just that. How can he turn me on this much? One thing was fantasizing alone in the shower. Something completely different was feeling her own son’s cock throbbing against her body.

Her fingers slowly moved down to her sex. She was soaked. She began to stroke herself softly, holding back her moans, while Sebastián moved unconsciously against her, not knowing whether he was asleep or pretending. The filthy thrill of the situation consumed her: the conflict between guilt and desire made her tremble.

***

The following days were a slow, delicious torture. Every night the same dance repeated itself: he rubbed against her while he slept (or pretended to), and she let him, growing wetter, more desperate each time. In the morning, as soon as he left the house for university, Mariana would collapse onto the couch, pull down her panties, and masturbate furiously, sinking three fingers inside herself while imagining it was her son fucking her. This isn’t right. The orgasm came fast and brutal, leaving her exhausted, with tears of pleasure and guilt.

Sebastián, for his part, as soon as he closed his bedroom door after those dawn encounters, would pull down his shorts and masturbate desperately, remembering the heat of his mother’s ass, the smell of her hair, the curve of that full breast. He came in abundant spurts, wondering whether she also touched herself thinking of him.

Both of them knew something irreversible was happening. Shame still held them back, but desire was already stronger.

One night, after an exhausting day soothing Sofía, they lay down together on the big living room bed to watch the series they always watched. Exhaustion overcame them almost immediately. Sebastián woke with his mother’s head resting on his shoulder. The milk stain on her T-shirt had grown. Without thinking, Mariana slipped an arm around his waist and hugged him. He hardened instantly. She noticed. And instead of moving away, she stayed still, savoring the forbidden heat.

They looked at each other. The air turned dense.

Sebastián leaned in and kissed her. It was a long, warm kiss, loaded with everything they had been repressing for weeks. She answered with intensity, lifted one leg over his, felt the throbbing bulge against the center of her body. Their breathing turned to gasps. Mariana climbed on top of him, shamelessly rubbing herself against his erection while their tongues tangled hungrily.

Suddenly, Sofía started crying.

Mariana pulled away abruptly, her face red and her lips swollen. She picked up the baby and went to the bedroom, leaving Sebastián trembling with desire on the couch.

***

That same night, when the baby finally fell asleep, Mariana whispered from the living room doorway:

—Sebas, can you help me with something?

He got up and followed her into the bedroom. When he entered, the first thing he saw was his mother’s heavy breasts swaying beneath the half-open blue robe. She noticed and blushed.

The breast pump had broken. She explained it with an urgent voice: how painful the swelling was, how desperate she was to empty herself. Sebastián tried to fix it while she opened the robe completely. Her breasts appeared swollen, veined, with traces of dried milk around the large dark nipples.

Mariana took a wet wipe and began to clean herself slowly, dragging the cloth over the sensitive nipples, letting out small sighs of relief. Sebastián couldn’t look away. When the device finally worked and the suction cup gripped her nipple hard, she let out a rough moan and covered her mouth, embarrassed. The two of them laughed nervously.

Milk spilled out in abundant white streams. Sebastián, unable to contain himself, started rubbing over his pants while he watched her. She noticed. Her breathing quickened. Knowing that her son was devouring her with his eyes aroused her in a perverse way.

When the device finished on the right side, there was still pressure left. Sebastián took the other breast with a trembling hand. It was heavy, warm, incredibly soft. He placed the cup on it, but he couldn’t resist massaging it slowly, squeezing gently, moving it in circles. Mariana bit her lip, her breathing broken, glancing sideways at the obvious erection beneath the jogging pants.

When it was all over, she stopped him at the door. Without buttoning her robe, she hugged him tightly. Sebastián felt her naked, hot breasts against his chest for the first time in his life.

—I love you, my darling —she whispered, and gave him a short but loaded kiss on the lips.

That night neither of them slept for real.

***

Hours later, when the house was silent, Sebastián approached his mother as she slept (or pretended to). He slid his hand reverently over her firm ass, barely caressing it, feeling the softness of her skin. He pulled his cock out of his shorts and began to masturbate slowly while touching her. His fingers became bolder and slid between her folds. She was soaked.

Mariana, awake, held her breath. She wanted to see how far her son would dare go. This is crazy… he’s my son… but those hands…

When she felt the hot glans pressing against her entrance, she slowly pushed back, letting the cock slide between her thighs, brushing her swollen sex. Sebastián began to move, rubbing the full length of it against her wet lips, pressing harder and harder.

Mariana could no longer pretend. She turned her head to look at him. His eyes were shining with desire, not reproach.

They kissed. First with tenderness, then with desperation. Their tongues tangled while she moved her ass hard against him, grinding her wet sex against his throbbing cock. Sebastián slid his fingers between her folds and stroked her swollen clit with slow, precise circular motions. She moaned against his mouth, a low, rough sound that embarrassed and aroused her at the same time. My son is touching me… and I’m soaking wet for him… how can I want this so much? With a quick movement she pulled off her shorts and pressed her ass against him again. His cock slid between her cheeks and nestled at the entrance of her vagina, hot, throbbing.

She took it herself with two fingers and guided it with a trembling hand. Sebastián pushed.

The glans opened her lips and sank slowly into the hot, slick interior. Centimeter by centimeter, he felt how his mother’s walls wrapped around him tightly, squeezed him, sucked him in, so snug and wet that he had to hold his breath. When he was completely inside, his balls pressed against her soft ass cheeks, he let out a muffled moan. Mariana arched her back, feeling every vein, every pulse, and the conflict struck through her like lightning: my son is inside me. I’m fucking my own son.

The pleasure was so intense that Sebastián came almost immediately. Hot, abundant spurts filled her inside, overflowing and soaking the sheets. But he didn’t stop. He held her firmly by the hips and kept fucking her, pulling his still-throbbing cock in and out, covered in semen and fluids, with slow, deep thrusts that made her ass cheeks bump softly against him.

Mariana gasped with every movement, feeling how her son filled her completely, how that thickness stretched her in a way no other man ever had. She lifted one leg to make it easier for him, and he penetrated her more deeply, with firm, controlled movements, rotating his hips to brush every sensitive point. The wet, obscene sound of their sex slapping together filled the room.

She furiously fondled her breasts, pinching her sensitive nipples, squeezing out milk that ran down her skin and dripped onto the sheet. Sebastián gradually quickened the pace, fucking her with growing passion, pulling almost all the way out to plunge back to the hilt again and again. Mariana moaned uncontrollably, biting the pillow to muffle the sound, while pleasure and guilt mixed in her head: it’s wrong… so wrong… but don’t stop, my love… fuck me harder… you’re my son and now you’re my man.

Sebastián slid one hand forward and found her clit, massaging it in firm circles while continuing to fuck her hard. Mariana shuddered. Her inner walls began to contract around her son’s cock, squeezing it like a hot, wet fist. She grabbed the boy’s hair, pulling desperately, and let out a long, deep moan as the orgasm swept through her like an unstoppable wave. She came with such intensity that her fluids spilled around his cock, soaking everything.

He followed seconds later, spilling inside her again in a long, trembling orgasm. But they didn’t separate. Sebastián kept her pressed against his body, moving slowly still, prolonging the pleasure, kissing her neck and shoulders while both of them came back to the world.

They stayed joined like that, panting, his cock still inside his mother, throbbing faintly, unwilling to part from that forbidden warmth.

***

The next morning, Sebastián woke with his face buried between Mariana’s naked, warm breasts. The night before had not been a dream. Reality was much better.

He started kissing them devoutly, licking the drops of milk pearling on the nipples. She opened her eyes and smiled at him with a mixture of tenderness and desire he had never seen on her before.

—Ma, I…

She put a finger on his lips and gently shook her head.

—Slowly —she whispered before kissing him again, now with deliberate slowness, savoring every touch of lips and tongue.

After so much time alone, Mariana felt alive, desired, loved. And although she knew what they were doing was deeply forbidden, that very prohibition made everything infinitely more intense.

Now she was sure: what she felt for her son was no longer only maternal.

It was much more.