A man too old to fulfill his Oedipal incest fantasies sees an opportunity when he and his wife have a son of their own!
Like most men, there had been a time in my formative years that my sexual desires were entirely focused on the woman who raised me. I think for all men, their mother has a strong influence on the sort of woman they find themselves lusting after. Some men are totally revolted by any features even remotely similar to those of their mother. Other men subconsciously seek out a woman as close to their mother as possible without being the real thing. Most never realise it. But for a few, one day their wife wears a certain outfit or laughs a certain way, and it clicks in their mind, “Oh my god, I married my mum!”.
Of course, the vast majority of men grow out of the genuine sexual desire for the woman who birthed them. I was never in that majority. It wasn’t until she was in her late 60s and seriously showing her age that I stopped finding my mother sexually attractive. I still fantasised about those early days, in my teenage years, remembered all the times she was just a bit too casual about what she wore around me, a bit too comfortable with my physical affection. Sadly, like most men with a big time Oedipus complex, nothing ever became of it. I could never work up the courage to make my move, and though the desire wouldn’t go away for a long time, I did find a lovely woman during my time at university who not so subtly reminded me of her.
The woman’s name was Rachel, and I never did tell her of my incestuous fantasies. She was a wonderful woman, and a wonderful lover, but her greatest attribute, at least as far as this story is concerned, was that she was a naive push-over when it came to most things. How she graduated from university I’ll never understand, but if you told that woman something you wanted her to believe, something you wanted her to DO, in or out of the bedroom, she would offer the most token resistance before giving in and going along with almost whatever you say. I think ultimately her caring and trusting nature just made her want to please everyone in her life.
So, as it goes, Rachel and I married straight out of university, and only a short time into our marriage she fell pregnant. I don’t know what twisted part of my mind the thought came from, but when we found out it was a boy, my mind was immediately flooded by the fantasies I’d had of my mother when I was a young man. After that, the entire pregnancy was a struggle, beyond the usual reasons, because any time Rachel used the word “Son” or referred to herself as “Mummy” I got those same images back in my mind and found it hard to concentrate. Seeing her belly and already large breasts swell almost put me into a trance. Every time I saw her belly move as the baby kicked my mind would say the same thing; “There’s a boy in there, inside that belly, and once he’s out, it’s only a matter of time before he’ll want back in”.
Once we had settled on the name Tyler, my incestuous fantasies fully took root and were never going away again. Now my mind imagined not my own mother, but Rachel being ravaged by a younger man, and I couldn’t help but hear her moan and scream; “Fuck me Tyler! Fuck mummy deep baby!”. In those parts of the pregnancy where Rachel couldn’t stand to have me touch her, that fantasy got me off more than a few times. But it became more than just a fantasy. As the due date neared, a sick scheme formed in my mind. Eventually, as with nearly all men, Tyler would reach an age where he would give anything to get back inside his mother, cock first. What if, I could actually make it happen? What if I encouraged those feelings in him, and at the same time broke down his mother’s resistance to such an affair?
So that’s what I did. I took it seriously, and carried out my plan in secret, knowing that for all her submissiveness, something I would never be able to outright convince Rachel to do was to fuck her own son, to commit incest. So I knew I had to keep it a secret from her, she couldn’t know where I was leading her or it would never work. She could never even be allowed to know that I WAS leading her to something. In secret, I set out to manipulate my wife and our son into an incestuous affair.
Some of it was easy; I researched various things that history indicated were to be avoided to prevent an unhealthy closeness and dependence of a son on his mother, or the other way around, and then simply instructed Rachel to do those things instead of avoid them, insisting that some new article or research had just been announced that she hadn’t seen yet. Shared baths, sleeping in our bed with us while his mother was naked, breastfeeding, all of these I managed to convince her to carry on doing for years past the recommended age to stop. Eventually she put her foot down, which was unusual for her. The boy would do or say something that finally broke through to her that it was past time to stop, and I didn’t fight it, lest I roused suspicion. Truthfully it was a miracle he hadn’t outright asked her to breastfeed him all the times we were visiting friends or family.
The only time I truly felt guilty for it all was when I told Rachel I didn’t want more children. It was a lie of course, I wanted it just as badly as she did, and it tore me up to destroy her dream of a big family, but I couldn’t risk another child undoing my hard work, drawing her affection away from Tyler. The best case scenario was that Tyler became jealous of the affection, but it just wasn’t worth the risk. That same twisted part of my mind told me it was a necessary sacrifice so that my son could live out my fantasies. And as I’d hoped, her affection for Tyler only grew stronger once the realisation set in for her, that he would be her one and only baby boy.
As he got older, one of the few things Rachel never did stop doing with Tyler was kissing him on the mouth. A little goodnight or goodbye kiss once or twice a day. She saw it as innocent and maternal, but I knew in those moments lay fertile soil for the seeds of my perverse plan to grow, especially after I noticed he initiated it as much as she did.
Of course it wasn’t only behavioral, I also researched what hormones and chemicals encouraged penis growth and sexual development in growing boys and subtly slipped them into almost everything Tyler consumed, once it was clear his body was starting to go through the changes that would make him a young man. I had plans for Rachel too. I swapped her birth control pills for placebos and added fertility treatments to her vitamin supplements, convincing her they were the same product in a new style. Pregnancy wasn’t the goal, I just knew how insatiably horny Rachel got when she was ovulating.
As Tyler hit his early teenage years, I knew my plans were approaching their most critical point. Soon the boy would start having sexual desires, and it wouldn’t be long after that that those desires would focus on Rachel. That would be the moment it was going to happen, if ever. The trickier part for me at that point was actually Rachel. As the boy started really growing, I coincidentally convinced her that I wanted her to show off a little more skin around the house. She protested at first, partly due to the fact that she was no longer a young and slim woman, which was true, and partly due to the inappropriateness of dressing that way around Tyler.
I convinced her she was still gorgeous, a sentiment I truly meant now that she had aged to look almost exactly as my mother had done when I was Tyler’s age. The few grey strands in her long brown hair, the chubby belly and thick thighs, the huge sagging breasts, she was the image of maternal sexual perfection to me, and I hoped Tyler would feel the same way about his lovely mother. As for her concerns about the appropriateness of showing more skin in front of Tyler, I lied and convinced her that he was too young to think of such things and even still would never see his mother that way. It’s not like I was asking her to wander about in lingerie, just a bit more cleavage, don’t wear tights so often, wear those tight leggings she knows I like. She went along with it as I knew she eventually would.
I had to strike a careful balance. I needed Rachel to feel sexy in the more revealing clothing so that she would keep wearing it and give it a chance to catch Tyler’s gaze, but I also needed to refrain from fucking her too often or overly showing interest in her myself. If this was going to work, she needed to be gagging to be fucked hard, and she needed to feel like she wasn’t going to get it from me. It was a struggle, she was pushing every one of my buttons, especially when she referred to herself as “Mummy” around Tyler, but eventually I could tell she was becoming frustrated. And it happened at the perfect time.
Tyler was now 14 and at an awkward point in his growth. He had gotten much taller, just about as tall as his mother, but his face hadn’t caught up, nor had this taller body filled out with muscle yet. He was a skinny, lanky, awkward looking thing. I had come in from work and found him sitting in the corner chair in the living room, studying a book for his homework. I went to say hello when I realised he was fixated on something other than the book and hadn’t even noticed me enter the room. There on her knees in front of him, his mother was trying to get a stain out of the carpet. Her scrubbing motion was causing her breasts to jiggle and sway obscenely, and with her open tank top and his seating position, Tyler was getting an eyeful of his mother’s fat tits obstructed only by her bra. I had to resist the urge to laugh, I could actually see his eyes following the motion of Rachel’s hanging jugs back and forth. “For God’s sake” she complained and began scrubbing harder. The increased motion caused Tyler’s eyes to nearly bulge out his head and he drew in a sharp breath. “AHEM, hello everyone!” I said, amused. Tyler’s eyes bulged again, this time at the realisation I was looking right at him as he oggled his own mother, and he quickly dropped the book across his lap, no doubt to cover his inflating penis.
I spent the rest of that day in a good mood, and Rachel kept asking me what had me so happy. I could hardly tell her it was because I now knew for sure that our teenage son wanted to fuck her.
I made one final large investment to make sure Tyler’s mind was consumed with lust for his mother. With that year’s bonus, I bought a hot tub and had a gazebo built in the garden to house it. After that, essentially every weekend night we had “family catch up time” in that hot tub. Naturally, we were all in swimwear. We would just sit there and talk, and Rachel and I might share a few glasses of wine, but every weekend from then on, Tyler was treated to the view of Rachel’s curvaceous body as she lowered herself into the hot tub, and her big tits jiggling about in the water jets.
One of those nights was seared in my mind. A few hours and glasses of wine into one of these sessions, Rachel decided to sit on Tyler’s lap in the tub. She continued drinking and chatting to me as normal, but I became laser focused on Tyler, wanting to see his reaction. His gaze kept flicking between her moving lips, so close he could probably taste the wine on her breath, and her wobbling breasts, right in front of his face, one of them actually rubbing against his chest as her arm rested around his shoulder. I knew what was going to happen before they did. With all that skin to skin contact, and his obvious growing desire, there was only one outcome. Rachel’s speaking trailed off all of a sudden, as if she had just realised something in her slightly tipsy state, and Tyler turned far redder than the hot tub normally made him. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and shuffled off of him to sit beside him, before she continued speaking. For the rest of the night Tyler didn’t look at me or his mother, and I am convinced that is the first time she felt his erection against her, the first time the idea might be sparked in her mind that her own son desired her.
From then on, I did everything I could to increase the tension between them. I made sure we continued our regular hot tub nights and encouraged her to sit next to him, I regularly had Tyler tell his mother she was pretty whenever she wore something nice, I made sure she kept wearing the revealing clothing and making excuses as to why I didn’t fuck her, and I always reminded them to kiss each other goodbye or goodnight. One of those moments gave me my first glimpse of the end game.
We were in the hot tub one night and it was one of the times we had allowed Tyler to have his own small glass of wine. We were all a little tipsy, and Rachel more so. She got up to go to bed since she had work in the morning. “Aren’t you going to kiss us goodnight?” I playfully said to her. “Oh yeah! Gotta make sure my boys get their kisses!” she beamed a tipsy smile and turned back, giving me a little peck. She did not give Tyler a little peck. She partially lost her balance as she leaned in to him and that had two consequences. The first was he instinctively put his hands up to catch his mother, and succeeded, his right hand landing on her belly, his left hand squashing full palmed into her massive right breast, and probably without even realising, he squeezed. The second consequence was that her lips found his with far more pressure than she intended. Instead of a light peck, her lips were fully pressed against his, and seemingly from drunken instinct, she opened them! It was only for a split second, and I pretended like I didn’t see anything, but I know damn well what I saw! Rachel gave our son an open mouthed kiss! I’m lucky I wasn’t as drunk as her or else I don’t think I’d have been able to hide my excitement of what I had witnessed. It suddenly seemed to click for Rachel what had happened, and she blurted out a “Goodnight!” before sprinting into the house. I let a few moments of awkward silence pass before I suggested to Tyler that we get some sleep as well. Once he had shut his bedroom door I shot into the bathroom and jerked myself to the image of my wife’s lips opening and our son’s hand sinking into the flesh of her heavy tit. My first taste of witnessing real, honest to god incest between a mother and her son.
What I did after that, I started to believe was a mistake. I made opportunities for them to be alone. I went to the pub with the guys from work. I picked up overtime. I told them my parent’s needed help with something. I ran to the shops for a few hours. I told them to have hot tub time without me while I was out. I wanted them to be alone together and hoped they had built enough tension up to that point to carry them across the line. Lord knows Tyler clearly felt the way about his mother that I had about my own at his age, maybe even more than I had. While I was out my mind raced with what they could be doing to each other.
But I had failed. Nothing changed. Months passed and they acted as they always had. In fact, in some ways it seemed they were becoming less close, becoming more like a normal parent and child. I felt so low; I had not only wasted nearly 15 years of my life on this perverse scheme, but worse, I had denied my wonderful wife the family she wanted, in pursuit of a twisted fantasy. A family that even with the fertility treatment, if we started now we still might not be able to have.
But then it happened. Just as I had given up hope, I was finally and gloriously rewarded for my efforts.
It was another night that I had made plans to go to the pub with work friends, when everyone cancelled and I ended up walking home early. The lights were already off in the house when I got to the front door. Thinking Rachel and Tyler must be asleep, I was as quiet as possible opening the door and entering the house. If not for that, I don’t know when I’d have ever found out what was happening. I could hear a sound coming through the floorboards from upstairs, and it took a moment for my mind to catch up. “What is that noise? I’ve heard that before” I thought to myself.
It was the sound of my bed creaking. There was a steady rhythm to it. My breathing stopped. I think even my heart stopped. I stood in shocked silence for what felt like hours. Slowly my senses returned and I picked up on moaning and low voices. Someone was having sex. In my house. In my bed. My mind reeled at the thought that maybe it had finally happened, maybe Rachel really was being taken by our son. But I tried to calm myself and be more realistic. Get a grip! Women don’t fuck their own sons! It’s some bastard from a dating app, or a guy from her work, it has to be!
The slowest and quietest I’d ever moved, I made my way up the stairs. The creaking of the bed grew louder, unimpeded by the floorboards. Rachel’s moaning grew louder too. He’s in there! Some bastard is in there fucking my wife! “Oh fuck! You’re getting so deep inside me baby!”. It took every ounce of my willpower not to collapse to my knees hearing Rachel moan that to another man. It was definitely her voice.
I continued my ascent until I was just barely peering over the top step, just enough to see into the master bedroom. I stood still and listened while my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I could hear their ragged breathing, both of them. I could hear how insanely wet she was, a sloshing sound with every thrust. I could hear their skin slapping together. I could occasionally hear a kiss. Though there was only the ambient light from the street lamp through the curtains, soon my eyes had adjusted enough to give me a clear view of what was going on on top of my bed.
There was Rachel, spread eagle, with some scrawny fucker between her legs! Her thick thighs spread wide, her huge butt squashed against the bed, and some little shit was-
“I love you mum! This feels so good! I wish we could do this every day!”
I thought I was going to pass out. It was happening! It was really happening! My wife was in there being fucked by our 14 year old son! Give it to her Tyler! Give your mother the fucking she deserves! But somehow it wasn’t the feeling I’d hoped for.
“I love you too Tyler! I love you so much my sweet baby boy! I meant when I told you before, we can do this as much as you want as long as we keep it a secret!” She managed to get out as she moaned.
Something deep in my mind picked up on the implication that this was not their first time, and it suddenly made me sick to my stomach. It hit me like a truck, the realisation that I actually did not want my wife to fuck someone else, that I did not enjoy the knowledge she had been fucking someone behind my back before now, but now it was too late, and I was nothing but a spectator to their incestuous affair. It was only ever supposed to be a sick fantasy, I should have never tried to make it real!
“Yes! Yes! I’ll keep it a secret! I’ll never tell anyone mum! I just want to keep doing this with you! Forever!”
He was obviously getting overwhelmed by the pleasure, as his thrusts became frantic and rough
“Ow! Ow! Careful baby! I told you you’re really big! You have to go easy on mummy!”
I focused my eyes on the point where he was re-entering his mother, and it became clear the supplements I’d given him had done their job. Maybe it was being exaggerated by his skinny frame, but the boy was hung like a damn horse. Even in the darkness, the distance he was pulling out before cramming himself back into her betrayed the extreme length of his cock.
It was the first point that I’d noticed how labored her moans were. As much as he was pleasuring her, Rachel was clearly struggling to accommodate our son’s enormous cock as it was rearranging her insides.
“I’m sorry mummy! I can’t stop! I want to do it inside again! It feels so good!”
Inside again? Had Rachel been letting our son blow his incestuous loads into her? It was dark but I’d assumed he was wearing a condom.
“Mmmm bu- but we can’t darling! Oh fuck!”
It seemed she was the one now losing control to the pleasure.
“I- I told you! If you keep doing that, mummy will get pregnant! You know what that means! I’ll have a baby! We can’t do that! Your dad said he didn’t want-“
The thought of my wife pregnant by another man had me on the verge of throwing up, but I barely had time to register it as Tyler cut her off
“Yes! Yes! I want that! Get pregnant mummy! I want you to have my baby! Please! Please mum, have my baby! I love you so much!”
It was at the heart of every Oedipus complex. The desire to impregnate your own mother and replace your father. And I had all but forced my wife and son into making it reality.
I had lost control of their desires, and now Rachel was losing control too. What would she think if she knew I’d planned for this to happen?
“You know I love you too sweetie, more than anything! But we can’t! It’s not right! Oh God, oh my God, yes! Yes you’re fucking me so deep my baby boy! Come back into mummy’s womb!”
Tyler had until now been in a mostly upright position on his knees, sawing his cock back and forth into his mother, his hands softly squeezing at the breasts that nurtured him. But now he leaned forward over her and lowered himself, turning his thrusts into hip rolls as he bottomed out inside her, his arms reaching around and beneath her. Her legs instinctively lifted either side of his waist, and I’m sure they were quivering as he now stared into her eyes.
He became erratic, his breathing became more intense
“It’s gonna happen mummy! I’m nearly ready to put a baby inside you!”
“Wait sweetie don- MMPH”
I couldn’t see their faces from my position on the stairs, but I was sure my son had just forced his tongue into his mother’s mouth.
Both of their moaning became more intense and desperate as his hips became a blur and their tongues swirled together. I watched as my wife’s arms began to close around her own son’s shoulders, nails digging in, and her fat thighs closed around his scrawny frame. His thin figure on top of her thick curves somehow made the image look all the more wrong as her whole body jiggled from the momentum of his thrusts into her.
The kiss broke
“Here it comes mummy! Here comes our baby! Get pregnant! I’ll get you pregnant forever! I love you!”
He drove what was left of his grotesquely large cock into his mother and began ejaculating into her unprotected sloppy pussy.
It finally broke Rachel.
“Oh fuck Tyler yes! Give it to me! I feel it! Mummy feels you putting our baby inside me! Keep getting me pregnant forever! Mummy wants all your babies!”
She howled out an orgasm, making sounds like I hadn’t heard her make since she was actually delivering Tyler. It seems somehow sickly appropriate that she would make those sounds now as he re-entered her womb.
Their joint orgasm seemed to go on for minutes.
The incestuous couple laid tangled together, sweaty and panting for some time after that. I snuck back downstairs, and tried to sleep on the couch. Until I heard the bed start creaking again…
Months went by after that, and sure enough, Rachel fell pregnant, with twins no less. I don’t know why, but I continued my routine of leaving them alone in the evenings. Whether it was there before and I didn’t notice, I’m not sure, but most evenings when I returned home the house would reek of sex and there would be wet patches on my bed. They continued to act like a normal mother and son around me, which in all honesty I was somewhat impressed by their restraint. There was one time where she sat on his lap in the hot tub, I’m convinced he slid himself inside her right in front of me beneath the bubbles.
I never questioned Rachel about the father of her baby, even though we both knew that with how little we had sex that it couldn’t be me. I never questioned her when it happened the following year either… or the year after that…
I guess I got my fantasy.
