“I fear I’ve opened a door,” she related softly. “A door that ought to have remained closed. You see, I know what comes next.”
“What do you mean ‘comes next’?”
“In truth, it’s already started.”
“Mom, what?”
“Your father explained it to me years and years ago. You were just a newborn. I can’t remember the exact circumstances, but your daddy had you, and you were upset and crying. I heard you, and I came in and took you from Buck. In no time, I had you calmed down and soothed. It made your daddy feel a bit hopeless about being a good father. He asked how I knew what to do to help you, and I told him carrying and birthing a child had triggered some things inside me–instincts.”
I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I played along. “Yeah?”
“Buck got real thoughtful then, and he told me he never felt any father instincts kick into gear but that he knew what I meant about things inside triggering,” Mom explained. “I asked him how, and he said he didn’t know it at the time, but after our first time mating, things deep inside him awakened. He said he felt stronger and more confident. He said he grew more protective of me than ever before. He told me he had the urge to bring me things–give me gifts and such, and most of all that he needed to mate with me as much as his body would allow.”
It was strangely erotic, lying naked beside the woman who bore me and knowing that my pop had lost his virginity to her just like me. Here, I thought, lay the woman who sparked both of our fiercest desires.
Mom went on. “Your father told me that maybe sex is even more powerful than we can imagine or understand. Here is this part of our lives, he explained, that’s been in our DNA for hundreds of millions of years. Who knows what chemicals or hormones in the brain it can change?”
“So,” I said, “you think this has changed me?”
“I know it has. I know Buck was right. What he said that day was like rain on snow. What had been hidden underneath became perfectly visible. Mating had changed him deeply, and this is what I’m talking about. You are not the same person, not since–well, not since you put your penis in my fanny and injected my body with your semen.”
I recognized the truth of it right there beside her in bed. I did feel different. Despite this profound realization, a part of me didn’t care. A part of me wanted to listen to her talk about sex because it was thrillingly erotic. I felt myself beginning to stir down there, to grow.
“Now,” Mom said, “it wouldn’t be too much of a problem if I were some young lady-friend of yours. But, I am your mother. The door I’ve opened–the instincts and changes I’ve fueled in you–are directed at me. With your new confidence, you’ve taken charge of me–your mother. You’ve run errands, done chores, and brought special foods and gifts for your mother. You probably are feeling or beginning to feel fiercely protective of me, and not just because I am your mother, but because you see me as your woman, your mate, and lover. And finally, you have to see how your sexual desires have grown–your semen has twice been deposited in my anus, and I’ve swallowed it down, and now it’s filled up my special place.”
While she spoke, I swallowed a lump in my throat. Her voice and words were making me irresistibly erect. My eyes sought out her bottom. They returned to her beautiful face, and I needed her badly.