A husband out of my own son
I would have never imagined it, but yesterday I celebrated the 7th anniversary of my marriage-like relationship with my own son. It's the kind of thing I can't even think of saying out loud or writing publicly, other than in a place like this. We know it's taboo and most people are grossed out even by the thought of it, but my son and I have just accepted it and lived with the secret. Our lives are all the better for it.
Our relationship wasn't the typical mother and son to begin with. He was born when I was 14: I made many mistakes when I was young and got pregnant from a guy more than twice my age. He vanished as soon as I told him I was pregnant, never to be seen again. So my parents supported me so I could have a better future for me and my son: they raised him as I worked through high school, college, and the early days of my working career. During his childhood, I was mostly the lady that came back from college or work on weekends to play with him. By the time they could no longer support us, my son was already a very dependable young man. We didn't really start living and coexisting together as mother and son until both my parents died and he was well into puberty. So he developed a crush on me. I couldn't blame him: we got along great, but more in a best friends kind of way... and modesty aside, despite being a mom, I remained physically attractive: I was in my prime by the time he was 15.
It was precisely at that age that one day, as I was showering (which I usually did with my door open), that I realized he was watching me, I suspected he was jerking off. I wasn't put off by that at first, but instead, by the fact that I seemed to enjoy it. I hadn't had a sexual partner since he was born, and he was turning into the man of the house: tall, strong, deep voice, square jaw and cheekbones... my kind of man. For years I found myself coming back to that thought, but didn't act on it.
Until his 18th birthday. Long story short, with slight help from his very first beers, he confessed he had disrespected me by jerking off to me, apologized for it, and confessed he loved me in a way beyond mother and son. He said he felt confused for having this kind of feelings towards me, and didn't know what to do. I didn't, either. For me, it was like a reflex. Perhaps I was too horny, perhaps it felt natural at the moment, who knows, but I kissed him. We made love that night. I took his virginity. The first time I kept having second thoughts... but the moment he climaxed inside of me, there was no turning back. It was only my third time having sex, but it felt different. The taboo made it just too hot. I orgasmed many times that night, something I hadn't experienced before.
We had many doubts early on because we knew it wasn't technically ok... but we started to realize how happy we were together. So we made a pact: to put him through college, find him a good job, and find the means to move away and start a life together as a couple. That was 7 years ago, we have accomplished just that, and are still going strong.
Now, at 39, I'm just finding the correct time to give him the news that he's going to be a father. I'm pregnant again, this time from a man that I love, who loves me back and wants a family. People do frown upon us becaue I look like the MILF that scored some poor clueless kid, but we don't care. They don't know the true nature of our relationship. All we know is we are happy.