ONE NIGHT ONLY

"Why did we bring him along, anyway?"

I look at my husband and wonder - is that the hill you're dying on?

"Don't make this about Gilbert," I tell him, looking around to see if my boys can hear me. He walks off, annoyed, and helps Mark unpack. The silence he creates around his other son is unnerving, and sometimes I wonder if he suspects of my affair 19 years ago. Gilbert keeps to himself, I see him with his sad glasses and oily hair.

The hotel is as bad as I expected. I asked for an extra room, but Steve just went behind my back and booked the cheapest shithole in the backyard of a train station. I tell him this is not great, and he replies I'm ungrateful, and if not for Mark, he would probably no longer be with me.

Gilbert moves out of the way, letting Steve and Mark sit on the bed, talking about Sunday's big game. I know he is ashamed of not being a sports player like his brother, but I love him to death. It's late, and all I want is to sleep after a ten-hour drive. A hot shower would be great, but I just can't be bothered, and Steve won't touch me anyway.

I change into my nightgown and make a final trip to the toilet to brush my teeth, and Gilbert is there, so I wait outside. I can hear him peeing, and it always makes me feel like a dirty pervert, but it's a guilty pleasure to listen to that powerful stream. Mark's and Steve's are nothing like that. Doing laundry taught me one thing without seeing, and that is Gilbert is fathered by another. I knew it, anyway, but his size is something he shares with his real father, but he doesn't need to know.

He opens the door and smiles shyly as he sees me, nodding as I enter. There's a volume in his sweatpants - maybe that's why Mark is such a difficult brother.

I'm almost asleep when I hear them shouting. Not at each other, but at Gilbert. He normally doesn't come along, but this time was the whole weekend, and I put my foot down. It's a whirlwind how football took over my son's life and, with it, my husband's. He's his coach, always measuring his meals, counting calories, and tracking times. And we're all dragged into it.

But like all whirlwinds, things get pushed aside to avoid crushing, and Gilbert is no exception. The shy, big-glassed nerd understood that to survive his jock of a brother, silence is the best way.

It pains me to see such a kind soul, a gentle giant, being put aside like that. Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong.

"Get out," Steve shouts, "fucking weirdo."

Blood boils, and my temper snaps. I drag my body out of bed and appear in a nightgown, braless, big brown nipples showing through the translucence of the fabric, and pointing the finger.

"Mom, yuck!" Mark shouts, but I ignore him. He's beautiful, I give him that, he takes after his father twenty years ago. Shirtless, smooth, a sin-turned-man.

"What's wrong this time?"

"Gilbert," Steve says, pointing the finger just like I did, "upsetting Mark. You know how he gets anxious before his games."

It gets to a point where you just had too much from this so-called anxiety that shows up when his brother is around. Maybe is that big thing swinging around his legs when he has his pajamas on. Maybe is the planes - the reason why we drove half a day to get to this shit hotel.

"Get on with it," I say, "I need to sleep."

There's silence, and then Mark pouts. I've seen this before, and don't wait around for Steve to educate me on how my temper gets in the way of Mark's performance. I already know where we're heading, and I suggest that Steve sleeps with Mark, a more-than-expected routine at this stage.

"You know it helps him," Steve argues back at the tone of my voice. "That's why I didn't want him to come," he finishes looking at Gilbert. My heart shrinks with each syllable.

"He can sleep on the floor," Mark adds, a pang of evil.

Gilbert leaves the room, upset, and I snap back at them. "You sure deserve one another."

What kind of mother am I? It upsets me deeply, to feel such a way for my own flesh and blood. I don't want to have favorites, but it's like I'm forced to after the preferential treatment Steve gives to him. I find Gilbert locked in the toilet and knock gently, and he opens it. There are tears running down his face, which I let dry on my nightgown.

There is no way I could let Gilbert sleep on that small and suspicious couch. The bed is large enough for both of us, and I can already hear his gentle breathing under the blankets. Mark and his dad are snoring in the room next door.

He is so warm, I had to take off the blanket and sleep just with the bedsheet on. It's nice, for a change, to have someone who can provide some humanity to my night, a beating heart. Steve sometimes fucks me, but it's a two-minute thing, no contact other than his cock inside me, squirting out and panting, and that's it. I don't get to warm up or to finish, and you tolerate a few things because of love and because of your boys.

Things changed - very slowly, imperceptibly almost, and it's only when I compare what I had with him twenty years ago to now that I see the monster we became to one another. He reminds me of Mark, a tall and fit jock who played football. We met in college, he was my first. Nothing like Gilbert. Nothing at all. Outgoing, social, and able to sweep me off my feet, he loved to get lost in my large breasts.

Now, every younger girl takes his attention, and he lives vicariously through his son. His knee, the injury, the years he lost in physio and doctors, the realization he couldn't play anymore, and then Mark, and putting all his pressure on his son, until the ritual of sleeping in the same bed before the games, waking up at four in the morning to go and train, insane.

Gilbert was different. When I understood I was pregnant, I knew it wasn't Steve's. It was a dark period for us, but I still managed to fuck him one time before telling him I was pregnant. The worst of the secrets. And not one I can hide that well, because Gilbert's dark thick hair is nothing like Steve's, and looks so much like his best friend back in the day, a half Italian half Sweeden bad boy that was so hard to resist. It was the best lovemaking of my life, opening my eyes to what I was missing.

And it's a shame when someone opens your eyes like that, you are never able to close them again. But at least I got Gilbert and all the love he can handle.

A shy child, a shy adult, sweet, loving, nerdy, with big round glasses and an awkwardness it's complicated to describe. And Steve understood very well this is not his son.

Gilbert moves in bed and turns to my side. He smells of lavender after using my shampoo and makes me smile. I wrap one hand around his and fall asleep.

The sun ain't up, but already husband and son are awake. They don't make an effort to be quiet about it, but it doesn't wake Gilbert up. He sleeps like a rock, not a care in the world, on his stomach. I hear the room door closing and sigh.

When was the last time we made love for real? Too many years ago. I'm sure he's having an affair, but stopped looking for clues - the less I know, the better.

And who am I to judge?

Gilbert moves, startling me. Snoring gently, but manages to turn on his back, his leg kicking the blanket and bedsheet and exposing his pajama bottoms. In the slumber of the room, it's difficult to perceive shapes. I go to the toilet, drink some water, and on my return, have to stop before entering the bed. The bedside lamp that I turned on to see my way out of the room, reveals to me the immensity of my son.

Dirty perverted thoughts flash before my eyes.

It's trapped inside his clothes but, in a way, fully free. An arching erection, stretching his trousers, making the elastic band bend to its dimension.

I'm shaking, remembering his dad. It's been so long that the size makes me weak, and I've forgotten all about it.

I always knew the way his underwear had stretch marks, the way it gets so loose in the pouch, the reason behind not wanting to do any swimming. A mother knows. But seeing it, even undercover, makes my heart shoot to the stars and my blood flow through all my body.

It throbs. I bite my lip as all my decency evaporates. What if I lay a hand on it? Stroke it gently? Make him cum?

Did he ever spend a night with a woman before? Is he a virgin?

I just want to ride that fucking cock. The fact he's my son is secondary, not important. It's been years since my cunt opened like this, ready, just like I did with his father.

It wasn't a one-off. It was a one-year affair, which became less and less careful until the day I confirmed my pregnancy.

But that's long gone.

I enter the bed, hands shaking, trying not to make a sound. I'm heating up inside, my groin sending fire to my brain, begging for it. A little touch, innocent, what harm can it bring?

His father took me from behind, holding my breasts and cuming deep in me. He never wore a condom, I was on the pill until I stopped caring about it. With a trembling hand, I turn off the bedside lamp and pretend to be asleep while my hand travels down inside my panties.

My body slowly gets near my son until I can sense his arm on the back of my ass, and then I stop. I can't go any further. I never thought I could feel tempted like this, but desperation is a tough thing to fight back. I'm safe. He's safe, if only I keep it to myself.

The scent of lavender involves me, and I close my eyes as my hand plays with my feelings down below. He was exactly what I wanted: a rough, dirty fuck. Plain and simple. Fucked my brains out without second thoughts. If I wanted love, I had Steve. I moan thinking about him, so good and wet down there.

Gilbert moves in the bed, and I pause what I'm doing. He turns to the other side, and I can breathe again, but then he does a complete spin, pulling the covers away and rolling in bed, his big arm comes over me, and without understanding, his body is now wrapping mine. I try to pull away, but his arm keeps me hostage.

I breathe deeply. He seems still asleep, but his third leg is fully awake, pressing against my thigh. A moan, then an inaudible word. My Gilbert, so close, so hard.

"Mum?" he asks, right in my ear, pulling me towards him, grabbing me. God, what am I thinking? "You ok, Mum? What's the time?"

I look at him, rubbing his eyes with the other hand, and those big soft lips are tempting me. His cock throbs against my leg, and my cunt clenches over the anticipation of it.

"It's still early," I say.

"Have they already left?"

The tone is different. A raspy voice, sleepy, his eyes not completely open, but his body fully awake. The arm that keeps me glued to him seems to avoid all the intimate areas.

My voice comes out trembling. "They are training. They should be gone for a couple of hours," I said, knowing their routine quite well. "We can stay a little longer," I say.

"That sounds nice." He pulls the covers back on top of us, and the warmth returns, with Gilbert conquering more of me. Is he aware of his own erection, I wonder.

"I will make us some coffee," I say, but he grabs me tighter.

"Don't go, not yet. I just want to stay like this a little longer."

And I let his scent conquer me, and his hands touch my body. It is still innocent, he didn't do anything wrong, and men can't control their erections, or what they call morning wood. And I can't seem to control the way my body prepares for him, how my cunt gets slick and my breasts engorge with hormones.

"But just five more minutes," I tell him, adjusting my position.

I can hear him smile, his soft beard over my neck, and he adjusts his body too, and now he is the big spoon, and his cock rubs against my ass. "Five more minutes, that's all I need."

My eyes are open, as I look into the darkness of the room. I want Gilbert to tear open my nightgown and fuck me in this bed. My cheeks turn red with the thought, and I can't imagine what life would be like carrying guilt like that.

But it's like he knows. He moves his hand down to my belly and gently lets it rest there, warmth emanating and spreading. His cock throbs again, waking me up from the daydreaming of being fucked till my eyes cry out his name, and I press my ass against it.

I should have stopped.

I should have gotten up and make that goddman coffee.

But my ass knows better and teases that long solid boner, pressing hard, sliding on it, wishing it can fuck me.

"I think five minutes are up..." my voice cracks as I can't make myself believe it.

He pulls me to him with an arm below my neck and breathes deeply. I always saw him as someone needing protection, my nerdy and innocent son, but with one movement, he showed me what a man he is.

"We still have one minute. That's all I need, mother."

And he thrusts his pelvis into me, a sharp and strong movement, waking up my begging cunt, pulls his pants down, and moves his hand into the center of me. Without a warning, I close my eyes as I feel his engorged member finding its way between my legs.

"Gilbert!" I squeamishly say his name. Don't stop, please, don't stop, it's all I think. I want this more than I can dare to think about. At least, the covers hide us from the eyes of god.

His breath on my neck is getting faster and warmer, his tongue comes to meet my skin, and his cock knocks on my panties, soaking wet. They won't be here for at least another hour, only god knows what can happen, and even he turns a blind eye.

My walls are all broken down with the touch of his phallus, moist and scorching hot. My cunt wants to swallow him whole, it doesn't matter if he's my blood and bone - all I want is to be desecrated, is to feel wanted again.

His fingers are playing with my panties, removing them, and exposing me to him. He turns me on my back, gets the covers on the floor, and comes over me. That's a giant, a colossus between his legs, with gravity-defying curvature at the end, just like his father. The thick precum drops from its tip and starts to flow like lava, falling between my legs. I look up and see Gilbert smiling, his hand reaching for his glasses, his smile getting broader as his vision gets clearer.

Could he really wish me?

"Mother, are you sure -"

"Gilbert, I've never been surer. I want you. Come here," I say while he puts his arms behind my back, lifting me up to meet his lips.

It's not like in the movies. Gilbert has no idea how to kiss a woman, but his manhood gives him the instinct he needs to conquer me anyway. His brute technique and his brusque gestures are tamed by my big breasts and curvy body, his cock pressing against my tummy, and my fingers wrapping around it.

I can feel his heartbeat pulsating in the veins of his desire.

He sends me down, spreads my legs, and bends over.

His beard makes me shy for a moment, but I press his head over my cunt, and guide him. I don't want him to ever stop, and I wrap my legs around his neck, making him a hostage of my maternity - no, that's now also gone. I want him to make me a woman again, not a mother, I want to feel him taking over me with every ounce of his body.

"Right there," I say in a low voice, a humming of desire building up. He understands, he's not like my husband. "Oh fuck, right there," I scream this time, thanking god for my husband and son not being at home.

And I'm taken back to the times Steve's friend, that Italian stallion, took me in the middle of the street, behind a car, as Steve waited for me to come over from work. His come was dripping into my panties by the time I kissed him on the lips.

It's when my son taps with his cock on my cunt. I'm transported back to reality and see the big thick string of spit falling from his lips into the big glossy head. He leans down to kiss me, spit still hanging from his mouth, but I welcome him anyway, and feel the pressure building. He's so thick. I pull his dark hair with both hands, and he spreads my legs with his strong arms.

"You ok?" he asks between kisses, but I just grab him harder, welcoming his slick spit again on my cunt, as he pushes his member inside me. A silent scream leaves my lips.

Never been better. He tears down my walls and enters like an invading army, conquering me with all his inches and making me carve his name into his skin with my teeth as that curve makes him a carbon copy of his father.

He enters me without waiting, without begging, without preparing me enough.

"Gilbert!" I scream, but he doesn't stop. His eyes are closed, his glasses almost falling over, and his soul burns with the intensity of one thousand suns. I'm giving him everything he wished for, and in return, he's fucking me just the way I need.

The thickness is something I can't prepare for, but my walls accommodate my son's big member, and he makes me sweat as his size hits the back of my soul.

"I can feel you in my belly," I say.

He opens his eyes and pulls up my nightgown, grabbing my big breasts and pumping inside me with the energy of a young stallion.

The bed shakes violently with his relentless fucking, his balls hitting against my bare skin, our kiss turning everything into silence around us. My nails break on his back, and I pull his hair so hard that breaks it, because he's so deep in me. I cry in his arms because I can't control the intensity.

He is fucking me like a whore, and that is exactly what I needed.

Gilbert turns me around, face down, ass up, and enters me without mercy, my screams muffled in the pillow, the sun is not up yet, and the night keeps us in darkness. The head of his cock tears me a new cunt, his sweat drips on my back, his glasses go flying somewhere on the floor, and he is panting, puffing, moaning. I am surprised he can last this long, the clock is ticking, but he doesn't want it to stop.

"Do you like that?" he asks, biting me so hard it brings on the pleasure I needed.

"Don't stop," I beg, and he holds me in his big arms and lays us both on the side.

"I'm so close now, mother," he says, regaining his breath. His cock pulsates inside me, and with each heartbeat, he opens me up some more.

I can feel my orgasm coming if he doesn't stop.

"Turn to me," he asks in a sweet voice. There's a fire burning in his eyes. I complain as he leaves my cunt, but it won't be for long. "Where did you learn all of this?"

"I've dreamt of you for so long now. Had plenty of time to imagine what would be like."

And he kisses me, my cunt leaks with his presence, and I need him. I need more of him, more of Gilbert, I'm sore, but I want that member exploding inside me.

He places my legs over his shoulders, and I can taste the tip of his cock teasing my entrance. With another kiss, his big arms go behind me, and he pulls me deeper. Then, he enters me, all those inches, until there's nothing left to fill me.

And it's when I think he can't surpass that, that Gilbert proves me wrong.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you will never want anything else."

And as I open my mouth to moan, he fucks me like you fuck a rag doll. I don't have time to process the moment he's inside me and the moment he's out. His cock fills me up so completely, and then he pulls it back, leaving me empty, just to make all his inches and curves send shock waves through my body.

I belong to him. He has me in a cage, with my legs over his shoulders and his arms behind my back, and I can't escape. He can fuck me as hard as he wants, and I have nowhere to go.

My breasts are bouncing with so much energy as his powerful thighs propel him inside me, the sweat pouring out of his face, and my screams echoing on the walls. My orgasm blasts through me, my eyes roll to the back of my skull, and he explodes inside me.

He can't stop.

He doesn't ask.

Gilbert fills me up, and coats my womb with his seed, just like his father did to me.

Each pump gains new life in me.

Each moment makes me say his name.Until he collapses, and I am too exhausted even to realize where I am.

But there was no time to stay in a post-orgasmic chill as the doors opens and Steve shouts my name. "Is everything ok, honey?"

Gilbert threw the covers over us with super light speed.

The signs of sex were all there. The scent was not of lavender anymore.

But still, Steve opens the bedroom door and sees what he wants to see. I pretend to be asleep, but can I fake the redness of my face? It's still dark, and he doesn't turn the light on.

"Theresa?"

It's a whisper only.

"Theresa?" he repeats, expecting a different result.

My son's seed leaks from me. I can smell it and wonder if my husband does too. Surely he knows how to identify the scent.

I hear some footsteps around the room and don't dare to open my eyes.

"Why did we bring him along? What a waste of space, even his fucking glasses are on the floor," he mutters. I can hear him loud and clear, and by the way Gilbert trembles in bed, I think he did it too.

Gilbert turns to my side in the bed, and I am afraid of what he might do. Steve is still in the room. I hear him placing the glasses on Gilbert's bedside table. Then, he cracks the window open.

"What a mess of a boy. Mark would never smell this badly. Jesus, it's like an animal."

And I let my son touch me, and I let him get closer, inch by inch, with my husband still in the room, looking at us. The covers only hide so much, and I'm trembling with what Gilbert might do.

"And that dark hair, did you cheat on me, Theresa? I still think you did." He whispers this while my son's seed travels through my womb. I'm too old to have kids now, makes no sense to think of that, but the sin is done.

Gilbert has one hand below my hip and tries to be as quiet as a bird. He waits like a predator. I hear footsteps again, and Steve is now talking with Mark. I can't tell what they're talking about as Gilbert pushes his cock inside my sore cunt again, and I roll my eyes back. Steve hasn't left the room, he is there, in the doorway, speaking with my other son, but Gilbert can't wait, and uses me like a hole.

Mechanical. Silently.

His strokes are slow but certain, and I can feel it coming again, my orgasm drawing near. Steve gives me one last look and then leaves the room. I can't hear what he's saying.

And Gilbert grabs me with both hands and fucks me until he comes again, without asking, overfilling my womb.

Then, he gets his sweatpants back on and moves out of the bed, leaving me there, leaking.

I'm glad I brought him along."You thought I was coming with you?"

Yes. Yes, I did.

"But you know Mark has a big game tomorrow. I made that very clear."

His voice is cold. Just like ice that hasn't fully formed yet, but already makes you slip. His eyes are like starless night skies. I look forward, facing the long tall mirror next to my dark oak nightstand, and cold sweat runs down my back as I understand the fool I've made out of myself.

"And you think I'd let you go dressed like that?"

One after another, his remarks hit the spot. In a moment of determination, I've taken out a dress that goes back some years, black, that now is a bit tighter. But if felt right. My legs are still my best feature, long and smooth, perfect for black nylons and those four-inch spiked heels I was flirting with for a month.

"Dressed like a slut?"

Maybe it's the red lipstick that triggers him.

"Stop it. There's no need. I thought you would..." but I go silent, not having the energy of yet another fight. The door is open ajar, and I see his eyes shining brightly. Dark. Unlike mine or Steve's.

"No need? Is that what you told Antonio? It was all clear to me last week, Theresa. How could I have been this blind?"

Antonio. His name brings sin with it.

"What are you talking about?"

He doesn't turn his back to me, instead faces the wardrobe he just opened.

"When I had the injury. The moment my career was over, so did you find another one. Must have been, or else how do you justify Mark being a carbon copy of myself and that thing is a completely different breed?"

My chest hurts as he utters these senseless words. I look back at the door, but those sweet, fiery eyes are no longer there. Hopefully, he didn't hear a word.

"Don't you dare, Steve. Gilbert is your blood and bone. Same as Mark."

"But those brown eyes don't fool anyone, do they?"

He could have said that the thick member dangling between Gilbert's legs doesn't fool anyone either paternity-wise.

"You don't get it, do you? It was my dream, and the moment it was cut short, you cheat on me? Do you wanna tell me Gilbert is my blood?"

And, with the most truthful of the tears falling down my face, I tell him he is.

"For sure this didn't start last week, you must be thinking about that for god knows how long. The way you treat him so differently!"

"Mark is my reason to live! Not the other one. Gloomy, stinky, hairy! He should be out of this house already, making his own survival."

He closes the wardrobe, a string of spit falling from his lip. How did we get into this? Why do we hate ourselves so much? We were so happy, and then, that bloody accident, changed the world for us.

And Antonio changed the world for me.

"So you're not coming?" I ask again. "You said you would, you said you wanted to give us another chance."

And the sneer on his lips. Eyes of a moonless night. "You knew Mark has this game. You knew that. Are you sabotaging your own son? You know he needs me, Theresa."

I fight the tears back. For one week I've been dreaming of freedom, but all my attempts at flying were cut short. Gilbert looked different. The moment we got home, he changed. I tried to enter his bedroom but he told me that it wasn't fair on dad. Guilt. I've felt it too, I'm not made of stone.

To be fucked like a whore by your own son? But I'd trade my soul if needed just to be in his arms again. It was like he was avoiding me even, and that was the only reason I reached out to Steve.

"I'm not sabotaging anyone. What happened to us, Steve?"

"You know damn well. I never believed in all the whispers around uni, but maybe I should have."

And it is like having a wall of ice between us. The promise he made of coming to a dinner with my old friends, vanishes. It's like he's doing this on purpose again, another knife in the back, peeling layers of scars that should have been left alone. Antonio's name returns to his lips, and I just want to disappear.

Just like I did nineteen years ago.

It was three months after Steve's injury. Three long months of caring for him. I asked my mom to take Mark, and Steve was reluctant but he said I could go. Have fun, he said. Fuck me if I did.

Maybe that was the reason for me drinking a little too much. A few glasses of champagne, but the music was liberating. It was someone's birthday, and all my girlfriends were there, and we went out dancing. Antonio was there, we recognize each other from uni. He was always off limits, a friend of Steve. Until the moment he grabbed my hand, as we danced a slow song. I was tipsy, silly, and horny. No sex since Steve's accident, just anger, fury, and guilt. And with Antonio, there was nothing of that. Only his strong arms and chest, and a cock hard against my leg, and then the back of his car, with him deeper than anyone else in me.

"Take that lipstick off. If you dress like a slut, you're no better than them."

And before he leaves, holding the door in his hand, he still has something else to say, yet another knife to flesh my heart out. "Because I swear to you, Theresa, you leave this house tonight, that son of yours will be sleeping in the streets, like the dog he is."

His absence warms up the room, and I hide my face between my hands. The mirrored image is of someone who's been defeated.

"He's right, isn't he?" I say to myself, my breasts are suddenly not sexy anymore, they are just two big bags hanging lower, only supported by my bra and dress. The lingerie I bought specifically for this occasion now doesn't feel right in my body, it itches, and I just want to rip it all off. The sheer black nylon stockings with the garter belt just hurt my skin now. "Well done, Steve," I keep talking to myself, all alone in that sexless bedroom, "you managed to drain every single drop of lust from me."

I text my friends saying I'm not going with them anymore and ignore their replies. I don't have to read it, I know what they'll say. I suppress the tears, but not without making some damage to my make-up, and now I look like a slut, no doubt Steve would say, with that black trace down my cheek. "Fuck it."

Mark and Steve talk loudly in the corridor, laughing, as they get ready to leave the house for their nightly run. If only Steve gave me a tiny drop of his affection for Mark.

I should have changed to more comfortable clothes, I think to myself, as I open the bottle of wine I had reserved for a special occasion. The red color pours nicely into the glass, and I bring it to my lips. And to think he threatened to throw Gilbert out of the house.

"Gosh, what am I doing?" I say out loud, drinking the wine in one go. "I can't stay with him any longer."

And heavy footsteps show behind me, and Gilbert looks at me from the corridor and sees me under the white kitchen lights. His eyes are a dark brown, just like his father's, and I remember being lost in his arms just last week. A capital sin, unforgivable, which just adds more wood to the fire that Steve so surely wants me to burn in.

"He doesn't deserve you," he says with the kindest voice I've ever heard of him. His Adam's apple moves up and down, and he is simply dressed, with his white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His ever-so-present bulge remains in plain sight, big enough to scare his brother and borrowed father.

"Oh Gilbert, how much of that did you hear?"

He walks calmly towards me and grabs my hand. "I heard everything, Mother."

Gilbert wraps me in his arms, bringing me closer to his chest, his heart beating steady, strong as a bull. He hums something, and all I hear is a strong vibration through his lungs, resonating inside me. Maybe it's the wine, but there's a fire spreading through me, starting in my stomach, and my body reacts to his strong presence like ice melting under the scorching sun.

"Come," he says, taking the bottle with us. I follow him, my small frame behind, and a turmoil of different thoughts. He enters my bedroom, keeping the lights off. "Fuck you look so pretty," he says, before towering over me with a kiss, right on my red lips.

I don't have time to say a word. And I don't want to. I missed him so much during this week that after all that my husband said to me, this makes everything right.

"So fucking pretty," he repeats, and his lips are red from my lipstick. He is holding me with one arm, that is anchored in my ass, pressing me tightly against his warm and large erection. With the other, he drinks directly from the bottle, I can see a big gulp traveling down his throat, and then he pours it straight into my mouth.

Another kiss and our bodies rub one another. All the words Steve said to me are now flushed with the wine, as my breasts regain new life, as my lips engorge, and as I remember my son's first time.

His innocence is nowhere to be seen, and I have no doubts he is a true man. He kisses down my neck and then pours more wine into my mouth.

"You'll get me drunk," I say, in a silly voice, for a moment forgetting that is exactly what I want.

"You're safe with me. I won't let that man hurt you anymore."

"He's your father. He just wants what's best for us all."

Even I didn't believe my own words.

Gilbert takes off his shirt and leads my hand straight to his cock, and my heart stops. "He's not my father. Even if he was, I couldn't forgive him. Get on your knees mom, I want to see that lipstick on my dick."

For a moment I'm taken aback by his tone. His sweatpants fall to his ankles, and his cock comes to life before my eyes, and before I have time to react, he places both hands on my shoulders, and I come down to my knees.

Fuck, I was needing this more than I realized.

He holds my head steady, a hand weaved on my hair, and his throbbing thick cock has a life of its own. He gets my mouth closer, allowing his precum to coat my lips.

"You need that, don't you?"

I look up, to see this real man smiling down at me. Another gush of precum catches me by surprise, and he pushes my head in. My mouth opens up around the head, and I open as wide as I can, obeying his commands. He is gentle, making my head bob back and forth, and making a soft groan each time my tongue swirled around the inflamed head.

Oh, I needed this alright. The blowjob queen, some would call me, but it's not as easy to ride a bike. At least, not a thick one like his. He erases all men from my memory except his real father, as I conquer more and more of his cock, my lipstick getting a new mark on his skin.

"You're good at this," he says, holding my head in place and then pulling it back, allowing me to breathe.

"I need more," I say, without thinking, trying to return to his penis and catch that precum string again.

But he smiles, picking me up in his strong arms, and taking me to the bed. He lays me down on my back, and comes on top, crushing me under his weight.

"I'll give you more, don't worry. I'll treat you just the way you want."

Like a whore. I don't need love, I need desire. I need someone to show me I'm still a human being.

He kisses down my chest, each hand grabbing a different part of me, and I can feel his cock poking against my dark lace lingerie, getting me wetter and wetter. I'm a puddle of desire, and my arms try to wrap around his big body, my nails digging into his arms.

And my mouth missing him.

Gilbert starts to unravel my dress, takes each strap down my shoulder, and reveals my large breasts. "So pretty," he repeats, before plunging down, sucking on them. I forget about everything, and I ignore the pang of guilt for being used by my son in my married bed. It doesn't matter, I repeat to myself, and his repeated thrusting against my pussy is driving me crazy. It's a lake down there, and my body is more than ready to take Gilbert once again, but he teases me, denies me what I need the most, and instead, he sucks on my tits.

"Is it true that during pregnancy your breasts are much bigger?"

But my mouth is open, but I can't speak, because his cock is pressing against my open pussy, the only thing holding the fort is my lingerie. But my orgasm is coming, in waves, my muscles tensing, my throat closing and he knows it, he is doing it on purpose.

"Answer me, Mother, for sure I'd love to see you like that, I want to suck on your tits all the time."

Devil. I close my eyes, and all I can think about is... nothing. My orgasm hits me hard, as Gilbert continues to rub his animal-sized cock over my panties, making me feel desired more than anything.

He holds on to me as I muffle my screams on his chest. Then, he pulls my dress up, revealing all the extensions of my sexy undergarments, and I can see him whistle, while his cock shoots another stream of precum.

"All of this for me? Mother, you shouldn't," he says, with an evil grin on his face, and kneels before me, pulling my body towards his mouth, my legs across his shoulders.

"Wait, Gilbert, your father should be -"

"We have time. Besides, he never comes to your bedroom."

And with this, he buries his face on my panties, and his tongue opens me up, destroying my lingerie in the process, and bringing me to the brink of collapse one more time.

He doesn't say a word, only works me up until I'm begging for more.

"Take me already, I can't wait any longer."

But he can. "You gotta beg more than that. Show me what you are," he says, and his teeth pull on my garter belt. He continues by kissing my legs, inhaling my stockings, and kissing all the way up to my spiked heels. "You sure dressed in the way I like."

"You like it?" I ask, with a shy tremulous voice, as he rubs my clit. How can he be in so many places is beyond me, but my back is arching as he inserts his thumb inside my pussy.

"I love it. Wanna fuck your brains out. Dad should be here in ten minutes, I'm sure you can beg for a quick fuck? Or you rather wait?"

I push my pussy against his finger, rolling my eyes back, whispering words for him to fuck me. Just like the whore I want to be.

"Fucking hell," he whispered, in a low gruntling voice, spitting on my cunt, and positioning himself at the entrance, my legs over his shoulders, his frame towering over me. "You should see the view from here, Mom."

And he goes in, without a single word. My universe collapses as he enters me, my son, my most precious thing in the world, defiling sacred ground. His cock fills me up more than ever anyone else did before him, and his precum leaks out of me, I can feel it dripping already as he pushes everything aside.

His breath on my neck, his hairy chest against my smooth skin, his balls hitting me hard and fast. I bite him so hard that I can taste his blood, as he pushes deeper than anyone else.

My lips grip his member. His sweat drips on my body, and the bed moves as he enters me deeply. My moans travel free, as the intensity increases.

"Fuck, I'm close. Turn around," he ordered, and I don't have time to think, his big hands turn me on my stomach, and he lifts my dress, let a strong string of spit join us, the cold against his scorching hot rod, and enters me from behind. Hands travel up to my breasts, holding them hard, whispering words in my ears.

"Cum for me," he tells me, teeth bitting onto my flesh, his body so close to mine. My son, oh my dear son, fuck me like a whore, make me forget about your father's words. Make him regret hating you.

All the words I thought of saying turn into mush as my drool soaks the pillow I'm muffling my screams in. And it hits me, stronger than anything yet. A warmness. A flow like lava, filling my womb, a guttural grunt, gargantuan geyser, an ejaculation so powerful I felt it drip from the sides of my open cunt, while I melted onto him, fused into one single soul.

Steve is home five minutes after. Gilbert is sitting in the living room, just in shorts and a tank top, like his brother. But, unlike his brother - or stepbrother, if you believe Steve, his muscles are not as toned, and his figure is not as symmetrically shaped, or his bum is not as perky. But what he stores between his legs beats them both several times.

He finds me in the toilet, clearing my face from the makeup. I wonder if Gilbert removed the lipstick from his lips because I know he didn't from his dick.

"Still doing that? Mark needs to sleep."

"I'm not stopping anyone from sleeping."

In his eyes, suspicion. In my pussy, the confirmation of his thoughts. I put an extra pad in my panties to avoid any leakages. In a way, there is a guilt as I talk to Steve about tomorrow, laying on my bed, turning off the light. But that guilt is quick to go away as he leaves the bed to check on his real son.

Another night sleeping alone.

Reading the pages of an old novel doesn't make me as sleepy as I wanted, and I end up getting some water from the kitchen. Inside me, the soreness of a good fuck, and the happiness of being used.

Even if that means used by my son.

On the way back to my room, the design of the house makes me stop at the doorway of Mark's room. The door is closed and underneath it, there's a darkness. Silence. I wonder if Steve is already back in my bedroom, warming up my cold bed, and by opening the door ajar I have the confirmation that no, he is sleeping with his son.

This anxiety started when Mark turned nineteen and won his first tournament. The joy in his father's eyes, the protection, the need to do everything to make sure Mark is at the top of his game. And Steve realized, very well, that he was living through his son.

And there was a day I told Steve I thought he was exaggerating. That he needed to live his own life and get back into our dream as a couple. It became the first time that Steve hinted at the fact that Gilbert wasn't his son.

How many years can a lie live?

They are sleeping peacefully, the bed being smaller than our married one, with only space enough for the two to sleep side by side, Mark's arm going over his dad's body, only shorts on. After closing the door again, I hesitate into entering my bedroom and, instead, go check on Gilbert, the sleeping giant that caused my soreness.

He makes me feel alive again. He doesn't probe, doesn't ask questions, doesn't throw me down just for spite. He loves me in a way a man loves a woman. Pure animal instinct.

I call his name in a whisper and his cock throbs. Hard, large, just covered simply by the bedsheet. The word repeats on my lips, and again, he throbs, and the dim light from outside shows its shadow, precum flowing in the tip as if my voice is enough to prepare him for me.

I enter the smaller bed and, just like my husband, wrap myself around my son. Gilbert opens his eyes and smiles.

"I missed you," he says, dim dimples showing on his face, an arm around my back, as my body touches his.

"I missed you too," I say, looking for his lips.

He grabs me in his big arms and pushes me on top of him. My breasts flow freely inside the nightgown and get crushed against his chest, while his cock is trapped between my legs. There is only a thin layer between us.

My hands go across my back, feeling my ribs, down to my ass. Gilbert grabs it with need, showing me how he wants me again, for the second time in the night.

"Is Dad sleeping with Mark?" he asks, knowing the answer already. His tongue enters my mouth, and he pushes his body harder against mine, thrusting his member. The way it rubs against my pussy makes it even better, warm waves of lust.

His fingers slide to the side, and I understand his intentions in a heartbeat.

"I wanna make you all mine," he whispers, and in one go, he gets me on my back, and comes over me, legs up, tongue down.

"Please, Gilbert, they are just in the other room."

"So you better be quiet, Mom," he says, spreading my legs open, and eating me again, like the main appetizer I become."But that's impossible," I say, biting my wrist in an attempt to avoid screaming as he rims my pussy and travels down to my ass.

He pokes it with his plump head, pressing, playfully. "Want this too."

There's so much of his father in those words. The way he says that. In the way he owns me.

He's not a young man anymore, he's fully mature, and, at nineteen, fucks me better than any man before him. He turns me around again, on my hands and knees, and after a love-making session with my ass, he presses that huge head in, as his father did before, grabbing my tits from behind, and pulling my hair back. The enormity of his penis is too much for a simple mother of two.

He fucks my brains out, giving me love with one hand, and taking it away with the other, the kind of love you give to a one-night stand, the kind of fuck you use with a hookup, in the expectation they will be back.

"Fucking hell mom, you're tight."

And that is after he loosened me up.

I can't breathe as he gains speed, all the life force running through his veins, and feeding me his energy. Each stroke takes me closer to collapse and makes me wanna engulf the universe.

And he grunts and collapses on top of me, his weight pushing me down against his mattress, as he pumps his load into me without asking, without waiting. He slides his hands below me, while thrusting, and makes me cum harder than before, his fingers all-knowing of my secrets.

I don't have time to feel any guilt or remorse, as he pulls out from inside me.

"You ok?" he asks, laying by my side.

"I'm all sore."

"But that's what you wanted, right?"

I hum a yes, getting comfortable in his arms. We hear the door of Mark's room open, and footsteps coming out. They used the toilet and then went out for their morning run.

"They were early," I comment.

"Maybe they heard us?"

Oh, I sincerely hope not. That's the last thing I need.

Gilbert stands up, his member far from flaccid, a drop of cum hanging in the tip. He takes me in his arms, surprising me.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To our bed. This one is not big enough for the things I want to do to you."

"But your father -"

He smiles. "I have this night with you. And until the sun is up, you are mine."

The youth. Such a life force. He uses me as many times as he wants, making love to me as lovers do, pushing the bedcovers to the floor, and fucking me in every position he can think of.

We can hear them back, Mark and Steve, but instead of coming inside my bedroom, they return to Mark's. Gilbert kisses me, using a towel to clean my body, and covers me with the bedsheet, as he leaves my bed. I can't move, and fall asleep instantly, missing Mark's game.

The other thing missing is my period. For someone as regular as I am, this turns into a red flag. It's probably just me being paranoid, there's no way I can get pregnant. We tried for a third sixteen years ago, but doctors told me I couldn't bear any more.

But maybe, just in case, I'll pop by the pharmacy and get a test, maybe the one outside the town, where no one knows me. The last thing I need is Steve finding out.

As I'm about to leave the house, Gilbert is just returning from being with friends, and kisses me on the lips, like it's a normal thing to do.

"Gilbert! You need to be more careful," I tell him.

He drops his backpack on the floor, closes the door, and sweeps me off my feet. "You promise, mother, that you would be there for me, anytime."

"It was just that other night."

"But I want more. And so do you."

"Gilbert... I..." my heart beats out of control, his hands are already finding a way inside my underwear, and my heels keep me steady as I turn my ass to him, holding onto the door, "ok, a quick one, ok? I'm supposed to meet your father and Mark in thirty minutes."

"Can I come with?"

Yes, you can. I'm never abandoning my son again."Where are you?"

I've been waiting now for over one hour. Steve is meant to be here with me, by my side, while they do the ultrasound.

"On my way!"

Lies. The noise in the background. Mark, but of course it's him.

"You promised. Steve, you said you wanted to be here!"

He swears from the other side. "Dad," I recognize his voice, sweet Mark, "come back."

Come back?

"Theresa, we can't wait any longer."

The doctor in her white coat signals from the door. A tear runs down my face, a tear of rage and knowing that Mark didn't really buy the whole "we're going to be dads again" thing. I'm just a cheap whore for my son.

There's a visible bump already, and I can feel my breasts enlarging. Gosh, what am I thinking? I'm too old to have a baby.

"You promised Steve. You should be here with me. You told me you would."

"Theresa, I know, but Mark needs me."

"I need you too!" and hang up the phone. The doctor was still standing there.

"It's the hormones, Theresa. They mess us up. Come on in, lots of women go through this alone."

She lays me down, and turns the machine on, spreading some cold gel on a probe. Just when she's about to start, a gentle knock on the door. The receptionist opens the door ajar, and peaks through.

"What is it, Amelia?"

"Doctor, there's a man here."

"A man?"

"Mum?"

Another tear falls from my eyes, recognizing Gilbert's voice. "Oh let him in, he's my son," I say, proudly, to everyone. I see how Amelia and the doctor look at him, with his gray sweatpants and almighty bulge. They know how to identify a bull when they see one, or it's simply the shine in my eyes, lighting up the whole room.

"Oh, you must be Mark," Doctor Cordelia says.

"This one is Gilbert," I correct her straight away.

The conversation flows for a minute or two, and Gilbert doesn't take his eyes off my belly. He has been away for the last month but is very well aware that he is the father. The joy when I told him Steve and I were expecting.

He rubs my belly and then holds my hand when the cold gel touches my skin and makes me squirm.

Like a real father, he will be there for the whole procedure, giving me the strength I need to start wrapping my head around a pregnancy this late in life.

"Theresa, you are not old. It's a late pregnancy, but you'll be monitored very closely."

Gilbert will monitor me very closely, I know that. He is looking at everything with big eyes, discovering paternity so early in life, brushing his hands on my body. I know he desires me, so much more than Steve does.

And Gilbert gets tense, his heart starts to race, as soon as his son's heartbeat fills the room.

"Is that?" and the doctor confirms it.

"You two are very lucky," she says. And she freezes the image on the screen and repeats the last sentence. "Very lucky." When she turns to Gilbert and I, she stands motionless. "Even your son got emotional, no wonder."

"Is everything ok with the baby?" he asks, his voice wet from listening to his son's heartbeat.

And she moves to the side, letting me have a clear look at the image on the screen, and was slightly confusing.

"The babies, Theresa. You are having twins."

"I'm what now? Oh fuck."

She points at the screen and explains things I can't hear. The shock of having twins, as if a normal pregnancy wasn't a challenge already. I'm absolutely fucked.

"You can do this Theresa," she says.

Can I?

He opens the door for me. The whole world is a foggy place since I heard that word: twins. There are no cases of twins on my side of the family, and the same applies to Steve's. But, of course, Antonio's family is riddled with it.

I bend down, place my head between my hands, and take a deep breath. The car seems so small all of a sudden.

"You ok Mom?" he asks in a worried voice.

"It's just... too much right now," I say, without thinking I can do this. And neither Gilbert is ready for any of this, he's only nineteen for fuck sake.

"Mom, you heard the doctor. It's going to be fine."

"Fine? I'm not young anymore Gilbert! And to carry twins, oh what have I done."

He searches for my hand, making me return to a sitting position, and looks into my eyes. "You'll be fine, I'm here for you."

Like a man. He spoke like a true man. But couldn't he see he was just a boy?

"Gilbert, you are not here for me. You are my son, ok? Steve and I will manage, I'm sure of it, while you carry on with your studies."

"I'm more than just your son. It's because of me you had this ultrasound just now. It's because of me you look even more beautiful with each passing day."

Lie to yourself, Theresa. For one month I've been repeating, this is Steve's son.

"My dear, no. I can't let you be a father, you are far too young."

He lets go of my hand, facing forward. His jaw is trembling. Gilbert places one hand on my thigh, caressing it, and swallows his pride.

"I know I'm the father. You can't take that away from me." He gets the car into gear, avoiding looking me straight in the eyes, "Did you fuck him?"

"Gilbert, please, I -"

"I'm cool with it. I understand our boundaries, Mom. But you came to me for a reason."

"And now look at the consequences."

There's a sad smile on his lips. It's not consequences, it's his family I'm talking about.

"Did you fuck him?"

I don't dare tell him. Nor deny it. In a way, I confirm to him that indeed, I fucked my husband. The moment I understood I was pregnant, I did what I had to do. Slipping a Viagra into Steve's drink took some creativity, but it did work. Just like in the old times, with my hips locking him in place, unloading the farse of my life.

Steve rings, asking me to pick him and Mark up, as his car broke down. I want to say no to him, but I cave in. It's in a quiet residential area and a few blocks from the place, Gilbert parks the car.

"What are you going to tell Dad?"

In my eyes the question of why did we stop? "I can't tell the truth. And he can't know it's twins."

Gilbert licks his lips, drumming his fingers on the wheel. "But you can't keep a lie for long Mom. He will see my face coming out of you. I think we need to tell him."

"Do you want your father to kill you? Gilbert, no, that's not an option."

He inhales softly. "So they are mine?"

I rub my belly and answer him in a whisper. He already knew, but had to ask one more time. I look at him, and his smile returns.

"I missed you," I finally say, searching for his hand.

"Are you sleeping all alone while I've been away?"

Except for that one night.

In Gilbert's sweatpants, something's waking up faster than I wanted to believe.

"Missed you so much Mom," he says, kissing me on the lips, and then pulling me on top of him. From there to lower the front seat was one second, with my pussy creaming for him.

Being alone all this time makes me needy. I need him. More than I ever needed Steve.

And between kisses, I release his cock from his pants, and he slides inside me.

Just like I need.

"Do you think I made you pregnant on the first time?" he asks, kissing down my neck, "Or was when I fucked you in your bed?"

I wanna tell him to stop, but he enters me, so thick, loosening me up, getting my muscles stretched, that I don't dare to tell him that we shouldn't be fucking in a residential area.

The car shakes, although he is a fire burning low, gentle, being careful. I ask him to switch positions, remembering the times that Antonio fucked me in his car before sending me home to Steve. It's broad daylight but the smoked windows make us invisible from the outside.

I go on my hands and knees, and grab his throbbing dick, guiding him in the right direction.

And still, he is gentle, fucking me almost like a husband fucks a wife for the first time. "What's wrong?" I ask as he wraps his arms around me, still not going all the way in.

"I don't wanna hurt them."

It takes me one second to register it. "Oh, nonsense." And I pushed my pussy all the way down his shaft, letting go of a wild moan. "I missed you, son. Give me what I need."

And reluctantly, he gain pace and speed, whispering if I was sure about it, making me reach out his behind with my two hands and get him balls deep. Oh, that's exactly what I need.

I can't believe he is fucking me in the car, but when he grabs a fistful of my hair, I ignore all of that, and finally, my pussy opens up fully for him. A first orgasm takes me, shivering all over his throbbing rod, a slap on my ass, pain mixing with pleasure. I'm a fire burning without control, but every moment I think I'm about to extinguish the flame, he adds more fuel to me.

There's not enough space in the car for what he wants to do, he still has his clothes on him, getting in the way, but he doesn't stop.

"It was the second time you got me pregnant, you fucked me so many times."

"Fuck!" he says with a grunt.

"I've been trying for sixteen years, and takes you one night."

He starts to race, and I'm almost unable to speak now, feeling the shock waves on my body with each impact of my son's hips, his balls stimulating my cunt, caressing it, owning me. Oh, just fuck me like a whore!

"I want to fuck you like this every day Mom." He slaps my ass, hard, takes off his shirt, and flips me to my back. His hairy chest is all sweaty, his eyes have a flaming glow. "I want to see you getting bigger and bigger, because of me." He teases me with the big swollen head of his penis, leaking for me. "If only you see what I'm seeing." And slowly, he enters me again, my legs wrapping around his young and sturdy hips, and he goes slow and gentle. "I'm so close now," he confesses, "I've been training to last longer, but you always make me cum so fast."

"I think your dad won't be happy with the waiting," I tell him, but he doesn't listen. He bends down, and kisses me, long, passionately, while moving his hips between my legs, rubbing my clit with his free hand, holding my head with the other.

And the fireworks come, at last, with him grunting inside my mouth, his cock releasing his love for me, a flood in my womb, as he fuses his body with mine, sweat with sweat, and his lust turns to passion, he needs me just like I need him back, and as he unloads his feelings for me deep down my womb, I pull him closer to me, nails on his skins, teeth on his neck, and soreness like no other.

We open all the windows. The smell of sex is evident, and I use a pad to prevent leakages on the car seats. My hair is a mess, but so are the three missed phone calls from Steve. It's a short drive now, and near the training place, Steve and Mark are waiting in their sports gear. They get inside, and I explain how hot I'm feeling, blaming the pregnancy for it, and it sticks for now.

It's not like any of them are interested in the findings of the ultrasound, but I let them know all is good, and the possible delivery date. I see eyes shining together.

"That's one day after Mark's final game!"

Steve looks at me. The same, usual, tiresome, bullshit. Later on, I find them sitting on the couch, Steve with his back to Mark, a hand resting carefully on his leg. It starts to dawn on me. Gilbert enters the living room, bulge inside sweatpants, but a concerned face to go with it. I still feel it leaking down from my lips to my panties, I still have his smell on my face.

"And?"

"It's all the way across the state Theresa. We want you there."

"Not if I'm bursting! Surely there are priorities!" I say, trying to keep myself calm, but failing already. "Fine. I'll try to hold them in a little longer if that suits your needs, Steve."

"It's not me, it's Mark!"

And Mark reacts for the first time in weeks. "Hey, don't bring me down to your mud. I had nothing to do with this." His arms are pretty to look at, the tank top revealing his young torso. He's slightly older than Gilbert, but I wouldn't choose him for the other. Then, Steve's hand rubs his thigh like it was a normal interaction. But for a mother who fucked her own son, it gets easy to spot this kind of thing.

And I look back at Gilbert. "What's wrong baby?"

"I'm afraid I have some bad news."

According to Steve, it's the best news. Gilbert holds my hand as he tells me he has been accepted for an important internship in the area he's pursuing. He takes his glasses off, cleaning the lenses. It means he won't be around during most of my pregnancy.

"Why so sudden?" I ask him, sitting in his bed later that night. He would be leaving the next few days

He had just come back from a month away from me.

"It's not an easy decision. But you have Father and Mark to help you."

I won't guilt him into staying. "Will you visit?" and he nods his head.

Once a month, he comes back for a weekend, and, instead of going to see Mark's games, I stay at home, letting Gilbert enjoy by pregnant body. I never told Steve I'm having twins. Gilbert is present during the second ultrasound, and the doctor tells me I'm having two boys. My belly is getting impossibly big, and my breasts are heavy and double in size. In the moments Gilbert has alone with me he cums two to three times in a row, holding my breasts in his mouth, sucking on them, filling my womb time and time again.

Each night is something we steal from the gods.

It's Gilbert that goes with me to buy clothes for them. It's Gilbert that gives me a so-needed massage every time my feet are aching, or my back is denouncing the stress of carrying two instead of one. Each moment we have alone is pure bliss.

My feet find it hard to fit in those spiked heels, but the short nightgown I'm wearing is enough to make Gilbert lust for me. I'm seven months into a twin pregnancy. The doctors told me to rest, and stay at home, but I risk it to follow Steve and Mark in another tournament, another match, another supportive role. And I only went because it's close to where Gilbert is staying.

The room is just another shithole, but I tell Steve that the room will be for me. He can sleep with Mark, as probably was his intention. He nods, saying how happy he is, now that I understand their rituals.

"Steve, aren't you going a little too far in your rituals with Mark?" I ask, as casually as I can, taking the space on the bed that could fit two people at one time. I have been noticing the signs ever more clearly, how blind could I be? The hand on his thigh, the sleeping together, the feeding one another's anxieties.

"It's helping him win, isn't it?"

I beat around the bush some more, but we all circle back to the same. And I don't have the courage to say what's on my head, maybe because I'm just doing the same. When I mention that Gilbert is living nearby, I'm met with uncomfortable tension.

"I don't want that thing near Mark before tomorrow's game," that's all he says. But I have a plan.

My sex drive has changed.

But it's still there. My breasts are sore, heavy, and getting fuller by the day. And my belly, gigantic. They kick and move all the time. Mark and Steve are already in their bedroom, door close, when I move quietly across the carpet to open the room door, greeting my beloved Gilbert, and welcoming him in.

In his eyes, immediate lust. He follows me into my bedroom, closes the door, and has a good look. Somehow I managed to put on the spiked heels, and a special lingerie I found the other day, on top of a silky almost see-through nightgown, where my nipples show like two big brown rings. In his pants, a stiff erection is already throbbing.

He wraps himself around me, and we kiss, dancing slowly in the dimly lit room. "I missed you," I say again, like a ritual. He kneels, placing his ear against my belly, and waiting patiently. A smile, pure bliss.

He sits me down on the bed, opens up my legs, and makes love to me with his mouth. He has become an expert on how to pleasure me, and, with the pregnancy this far advanced, he had adjusted to my needs.

Gilbert still makes me feel like a whore by the time he finishes with me, but he gives me so much more than that.

His face is covered in my juices when he finally stands up, putting both feet on the bed, and making me suck his cock clean. "Suck my cock mom, show me how much you've missed me."

That makes my pussy awake even more. Thick, warm, leaking, that's how his cock meets my lips. He keeps his hands away, and I slurp him down, placing my hands on his firm buttocks, and pushing him down one inch at a time.

"Good girl," he repeats, "suck it harder," he commands, and I obey.

The college memory comes flooding in, but all that matters is him now. My dear, beloved, son.

"Slow down Mom, that's it, keep it slow," and I already know what will come after that. I push him past my throat, just how he likes it, and the load he's been storing in his balls will be mine.

He looks down at me, "you want it?" he asks, and I nod with my head, in silence, slurping on his throbbing cock. "Fuck, you deserve it. I'm so fucking close Mum."

And he controls my head, weaving a hand into my hair, and pushes it further, my fingers grabbing a hold of my throbbing pussy, and us cuming at the same time. He will need a few minutes to recover after this.

There's one night, alone in our bedroom, that he rests his head on my belly, caressing it with kisses. "Should I be afraid?" he asks.

I weave my fingers in his hair and ask what's he talking about.

"I've been reading how complicated pregnancies can be. I don't want to lose you."

We don't have sex this night, and, instead, we comfort each other - doctor's orders, as a very strong orgasm might lead to labor. But my sex drive kept changing, and now, I'm overly protective. My son, who still needs me so very much, a big man, is scared to lose me.

"You won't lose me. These things happen all the time," I reassure him, not fully understanding how possibly wrong things could become.

He keeps rubbing my belly. "Mom, I caused this."

"What, are you saying you turned me into a monster?" I say, winking my eye at him.

I know he loves how my body is transformed. "I wouldn't change you for the world."

"You need to find a nice girlfriend."

"Don't want that." And he comes behind me, spooning. "I want you."

It's spooning on one another that Steve finds us the next morning, but, at least, we were fully clothed.

But that wasn't enough to deter him.

"What is he doing here?" Steve's voice is cold, anger building up. Mark shows up behind him, only in his boxer briefs, no shirt. They are both shirtless.

"He came to visit me," I say, shyly.

And just when Steve is about to reply, Gilbert stands up for me, putting himself between us.

"Dad, chill. I got the weekend off and came by to check on Mom. It's not like you're doing a great job so far."

I never heard him talk back to Steve.

Neither did he. It takes him a few moments to get his voice back, supported by no one else but Mark.

"And what do you want me to think? Sleeping with your mom, like lovers do?"

There's poison in his voice. Could he suspect, somehow, that Gilbert is the father of the twins?

"Dad, you sleep with Mark all the time, and it's not like I think you are lovers. The fuck?"

Very convincing. Even I thought he was making a very good point.

"Don't be a fucking weirdo like you always are, four eyes," Mark accuses his brother. Half brother.

"Enough. I have no headspace for this now. It's been eight months now, and yes, I could use some more support from the three of you." I'm sitting in the bed, whilst the three of them make a little circle around me. "It's the cooking, it's the laundry, it's the grocery shopping. If not for Gilbert, I would have been alone in the ultrasounds. If not for Gilbert, I would have been alone picking the baby's clothes. I need you Steve, but you are nowhere to be found.""Well, looks like Gilbert makes the perfect fit." He looks at his son, with an accusing finger. "From today, I don't want to see your face around here no more."

My lower lip trembles. I find support on the furniture to stand up and face my husband. "If anyone is leaving, that someone is you," I say the words and press my indicator onto Steve's chest. "Understood?"

Steve looks into my eyes, and he understands alright. "You're not helping, Theresa. Mark needs to concentrate."

And I just want to slap him, hard, across the face. "Have you even asked Mark if he wants to play? It's your dream, not his."

"Don't drag me into this. But, life has been so much better without Gilbert nearby. I vouch for Dad, he needs to go."

"And I vouch for him. Test me again, and you'll both be sleeping in the streets." My huge belly is not going to take this bullying against my beloved.

The rest of the month goes somewhat lonely. Without Gilbert, back to the last leg of his internship, I kept myself busy knitting some cute clothes for the unborn. Made some friends in the neighborhood, but now that my belly is the size of New York, it gets complicated to leave the house.

"Bed rest Theresa. We should have made this happen already. You sure you want to wait?"

Yes. I need Gilbert to be present. I didn't say that, but it's the truth.

He will be arriving in the early hours of the day, before dawn. I want us to have one last night together, that's all I ask for.

Tomorrow, Steve and Mark will go to their game, still upset that I'm not going with them, despite my condition. And, after they leave, I will have a nice bath, which Gilbert will help me in because I know I don't trust myself in getting out of a water-filled tub, and then we will have a nice relaxed day. I've been craving him inside me one more time, and it will be my way of saying goodbye to him.

He needs to find someone to love. It can't be me.

The weather outside is terrible. Wind, strong rain, lightning. Steve and Mark don't go on their usual run, and I hear them talk in the living room. It's not like I can move at great speed, but by the time I get to them, to ask if they want a tea as I'm about to do one, I see Steve massaging Mark's back. Shirtless again. It's so innocent and yet, in my brain, I feel like they have been together for a long time now.

Just like me and Gilbert.

I return to the kitchen, in silence, and sit down, waiting for the kettle to boil. They pop in, looking for some water, and I ask if they are going out for their usual run.

"We'll just call it a night. Tomorrow morning the weather should clear. You sure you're not coming?"

I look at Steve, wishing I could slap him hard, so his brain would wire differently. I grab my mug, and make my way into my bedroom, closing the door behind me, just to realize I forgot the sugar.

If only Gilbert was here, I could ask him to go and grab me some, but with Steve that wouldn't happen. As I grab the door knob, I hear their voices in the corridor and wait for them to go inside their room, as I'm upset enough. I don't hear the door close, but I'm so heavy so I open the door ajar and my heart skips a beat.

They are kissing just by the entrance of Mark's room.

I want to close the door, but I can't. I need to watch it. I need to see my husband and my son sucking the soul of one another. Mark takes the lead, his muscles taking over my husband as if he was willing to lose a battle.

And just like that, Mark pulls him inside the bedroom, closing the door with his foot, leaving me alone and in despair.

If I wanted confirmation, then it was just served to be.

I tell myself, ignore it Theresa, it's just one step across intimacy. It means nothing. It means nothing, I repeated again, picking up the sugar and making my way back into my room again. And I stop by the doorway - clearly, it's more than intimacy.

I turn the corridor lights off, and open their door, just a fridge. There's a small light coming from one of their phones, and sometimes the lightning bathes the room in a snapshot of light.

They are more than intimate. My husband is on his knees, stealing moans from Mark. Is this how he helps with his anxiety? His mouth bobs up and down on a thick cock, and Mark has no problems pushing his face all the way down to his shaved pubs, aggressive, dominant, a pure jock adrenaline. He gets into the bed, pushes my husband with him, and Mark is kneeling on the bed, bending slightly down, showing massive thighs. I see Steve passing his hands on Mark's muscles, murmuring a few fucks, and leaning forward, he resumes slurping his cock, gagging a few times while doing so, which only makes Mark be even more aggressive.

Is this what they do on their night runs?

"Fuck yes Dad, be a good bitch!"

I'm shocked.

And then Mark slaps him in the face, as he buries his cock down his throat. My husband gags, and he finally lets him free, spooning the drool from his face, and using it as lube.

My belly starts to ache as I see them in love and lust.

I thought it was Steve that was fucking Mark, but seems their dynamic is different.

And Mark has no trouble entering his dad. He slides in, as this is part of their training routine, making Steve moan and call for his name, whimpering his face down on the pillow. Unforgiving. Ruthless. Rough. There's no kindness there.

Just the way Steve likes it.

And a hand touches my shoulder. Gilbert is home. And he closes the door.

"Come, leave them be."

And I follow him into my bedroom, to drink my tea.

My hands are shaking. I can still hear Steve's moans, and the bed against the wall, and then a silence falls over the house. Gilbert is hugging me, gently kissing my belly, my hands, and my tears.

"It's not what it looks like, Mom," he says. But I look back at him.

"I think it is exactly what it looks like Gilbert. Don't try to sugarcoat it, we did exactly the same, didn't we?"

"They started it."

I caress his hair, thick as his father's, and tell him to let it be. There are no innocents in here, from the moment we slept together for the first night.

"It should have been one night only, my beloved son."

He looks at me with big lustful eyes. "Do you regret it?"

"No. Not a single moment. You made me feel alive."

"You made me a man," he replies, kissing me on the lips. A soft kiss, bringing the memories of our first night together.

I finish my tea, and I tell him my plans of having a bath, and he prepares the tub for me. Then, he undresses me in the toilet, kissing each part of my body, sitting me down, undressing, and showing me how hard he gets around my pregnant body. "Tonight is all about you." He helps me enter the tub, and sits me down on the ledge, back against the cold wall, and opens my legs. He takes pleasure in it. I see his submerged body, his strong muscles, and perky ass-like islands, and he makes me a new woman, getting my cunt begging for him inside me. He says he won't go against my doctor's advice, but he still gives me a good old orgasm, after a long and passionate licking.

After my legs stop shaking, he helps me inside the tub, the water submerging my big belly, and he washes me down, with the dedication of a nurse, still learning his craft.

Soft hands around my big sore tits, he kisses the nipples, and then my lips. I can taste myself on his tongue, as his fingers gently massage me down there.

Gilbert doesn't lose his erection for one moment, not even when he's helping me out of the tub, one hour later, and takes me into the bedroom.

He kisses me on the lips and lays down next to me.

I turn on my side, using the banana-shaped pillow to place between my legs, and hold his hand, looking at his hairy chest. "Do you want to meet your real father?" I ask him.

A shine of surprise as he looks back at me. "I think I'm good." He stares back at the ceiling. "No, I'd be jealous. I want you to myself."

And a kiss comes through. And then another. And another. I keep the pillow between my legs but hold him closely. My hands travel to his aching erection, and despite being this close, I want him one more time. One last time. He undresses me, like I'm some sort of deity, and plays with my body, making love with each part, opening me up even more. He kisses every inch of my skin, and I kiss him back.

My nails on his chest, and then his chest on my back, and his tongue travels south, licking me from behind. "I don't want to make you worse," he says, coming back up, whispering near my neck. But I hold his member, throbbing with my fingers, and guide him.

It's just like how I imagined it.

His cock leaks into me, and my pussy swallows him, the lips dragging him in, like a mermaid's song. He knows the doctors said no, but he can't say no to me. Fuck me one last time, I whisper, fuck me, my son.

The plump head pushes my lips apart, and he's throbbing already, holding my super engorged breasts from behind. "You sure I'm not -"

"Gilbert, I need you now," I say, pushing my back onto his dick, stealing a gasp from his mouth, clenching my muscles around it, and milking him.

"Fuck mom, don't do that, oh fuck," he says, and I can almost see his face, squirming, trying to control his cock from exploding with a month-old nut. But I don't want to stop, I want to retribute everything he's done for me, and I pull him in, and my body reacts with his gargantuan geyser gushing inside me. He grunts, muffled, holding my body.

"Don't stop," I tell him, his warmth giving me life, making me young again.

He's shivering, but he obeys my order.

Slow. Steady. Wet, and sloppy, his cum leaks as he pushes his cock inside me, fucking me at a steady pace, while kissing the skin of his mother. "You ok like this?" he keeps asking, not daring to be brute or rough. And I'm loving him that way, how his cock slides in so perfectly, my body on a crescendo, it's been months since I felt this way.

"It's so good," I confess, letting him hit from behind, biting on his wrist as the orgasm draws closer.

"Theresa, from now on," my doctor said when she realized my pregnancy was far too big, "I would not recommend you to have sex or very strong orgasms, it might get you into labor."

"Don't stop," I beg, ignoring her advice, feeling my son's seed leaking from my open cunt, and knowing he still had more to give me. "Oh fuck, I'm going to cum," I announced, unable to hold back, pushing a pillow over my face, clenching my muscles around my son's member, and receiving his second load of the night.

But my orgasm lasts the longest it has ever been and slowly transforms me with it.

Steve and Mark are about to leave the house when they see Gilbert and I, fully packed as well.

"The babies are coming," I announced, as soon as another contraction comes through. Fuck, I didn't miss that.

"The babies?" Steve and Mark asked at the same time.

"Mam, only the dad can be in the room."

I feel dizzy. The lights are bright. The pain is too strong. But I can recognize Gilbert's hand anywhere on the planet.

"I won't leave her alone," a calm, but proud Gilbert voices his choice.

"Dad can't be here," I manage to say, "Don't leave me alone, please."

I beg. And then another contraction comes through, and instinctively, Gilbert holds my hand and joins our foreheads. "Breathe." I'm fucking breathing! But it helps. I calm down for a little while.

A doctor comes around. Not my doctor. Fingers up my vagina. "It's time," he announces to the world.

"I need some epidural!" I shout, but no time for that. "Gilbert? Gilbert?"

He never let go.

"They are finally asleep."

The one-year birthday party went better than expected, but now I need some alone time. Gilbert looks at me, from the couch, and invites me to sit down with him.

"You ok?"

He's been a lifesaver.

"I think I am."

"Do you need a drink?"

I kiss him on the lips. It took some time, but my sexual drive is coming back.

"Stop teasing. Only after I stop breastfeeding."

We kiss, tenderly. Just like I imagined life would be with Steve, but never was.

He touches my big swollen breasts, licking his lips. "I know. And you won't be stopping any time soon."

I fall in his arms, and let him cuddle me. If feels good. More than feeling like a whore, I was also needing some love in my life. His lips are careful, but they know exactly what they're doing, kissing down my neck.

"Gilbert?"

"I missed you."

"I missed you too."

He opens up my dress, exposing my breasts, held together by an extra large bra, and he massages them, just like I need. He keeps at it, until I'm purring like a cat, and his erection is throbbing on my back.

My desire returns faster than previously, and I let him taste my body.

"Do you want to... have sex?" he asks. Unlike his father - or unlike Steve, he respects me. Since the last time when he fucked me into labor, I've been giving him some oral relief, using my hands and mouth to make him cum. I told him, he was free to see anyone, but to that, he always replies with "I only want you."

"Come," he says, a smile on his face that reminds me he's still twenty, and an energy unlike any other. He takes my old lingerie out, and my shoes. His shirtless body sports an erection that I missed dearly. "Is this ok?" he asks, and I smile, as he takes the straps over my shoulders and lets my dress fall down on my feet, kissing me in the process. "Who knows when we'll have some time again?"

His cock rubs against my thighs, and I let him love me. He has firm hands that dress the black lace lingerie, pulling up my panties like his life depended on that to survive, and then the nylon stockings, all the way up, kissing me every inch of the way. And then he kneels, like he's proposing, and fits my four-inch spiked heels.

"Fuck," he says, and there's a wide wet spot on his shorts.

I pass my heel over his erection, increasing his state.

And when he tries to put the dressing on, it doesn't fit.

"I still have some weight to lose," I comment.

"You're fucking gorgeous that way." And hands me back the red lipstick.

"How long have you been thinking about this?"

"For too long," he admits, and today is not about love. Now, it's about sex. I lay down across the bed, head hanging over the edge, and pull his shorts down. A clear see-through string falls on my tongue, and I can hear the excitement in his breath.

He parts my lips, into my warm mouth, and as he goes all the way down my throat, so his head goes down into my bush, discovering a new pussy for him to tame. I was not the blowjob queen by accident. I take my son down my throat until tears run down my eyes, and until my pussy is on the edge of an orgasm, with him unloading his precious seed straight into my stomach.

He pants, collapsing to the side of the bed, unable to process what I just did to him.

Without the belly, it gets easier.

I use my heels to press on his balls, softly, the spikes making him shiver.

"You want more?" he asks, happy in a way. It's when I jump on the bed, squatting over a cock that will have no rest. He lubes me up, and I go down, inch by inch until my Gilbert is all inside me. I ride him, spikes pressing against his thighs until he is crying with happiness, until my cunt belongs to him again.

He turns me on my back, in a missionary position, sucking on my tits as he rams my pussy, sharing my life. I dug my nails on his back, and I punch his chest, ordering to fuck me harder.

"I need you!" I shout.

He places my legs over his shoulders, and his arms on my back, lifting me up. Where he gets the strength from, I don't know, but he has never been that deep before. My body convulses, while he keeps thrusting me without a break until he shoots his load one more time, but only stopping when I cannot take him anymore when my orgasm is so strong that all of me shakes, my legs shivers, my body aches in such a way that I cannot stop cumming.

I wake up better than any day I can remember. My body's sore, but the good kind. I'm alone in bed - somehow, a chill that reminds me of Steve. But I can hear Gilbert's voice, lulling his sons to sleep. I stay in bed a little longer, making the mistake of checking my phone.

There are several messages from Steve, not the good kind. He comes back to bed, holding breakfast in a tray.

"Do you think I was too harsh on your father?" I explain the trail of messages he just sent, and he puts the breakfast tray down, enters the bed, and gets behind me, his arm across my chest.

"I don't think so. He was the one choosing Mark over you. Now we know, and they know. The cat is out of the bag."

"But..." he puts his indicator over my lips.

"I know. But I'm happy here with you."

We had this conversation one too many times. He's so young, I'm getting so old, and out of a delicate pregnancy. Now, with two to raise, life looks a bit desperate for me. "Maybe I should find a nice home for them, you know? I'll be seventy when they're twenty. An old nana."

"Mom, I'm here. They're also mine, aren't they? Let me worry about it."

"But you're barely twenty, Gilbert. Your whole life is ahead of you!"

He holds me closer to his chest. "You are my life, Theresa. Never forget that."