Pregnant and in Need

Note: I wrote this story as a kind of challenge, a pregnant incest story from the point of view of the mother. Hope you enjoy it!

Edited by: Pope 1944. Thanks!

*****

I moaned as I felt the hot water on my back. Moaned for the sheer pleasure of a hot shower in late fall, but I couldn't deny the fact that my entire body was primed for any sort of pleasurable contact. Sensual was nice, but sexual would have been better. Much better. Now I felt the hot water rushing all over my back, drawing shivers of contentment as it coursed all the way to my toes. When I moved backwards and felt the water overflowing around my neck and down over my breasts, the shivers were of a slightly different nature.

I grinned as the water now rolled over my face as well and grabbed both my breasts. They felt so different, almost alien. I was now in the eighth month of this pregnancy and my body was blown almost beyond recognition. As I looked down, water dripping from my forehead, nose and lips, I squeezed my two very large mammaries, finishing with gentle pinches on my nipples. Soon I felt an answering buzz deep down in my lower belly.

During my first pregnancy, my breasts had never grown quite that big. When I became pregnant at eighteen, almost twenty years ago, I had watched, amazed and afraid, my slim body transform. I'd had a petite frame, with 30C breasts, a tiny waist and only hints of the hips I'd develop later on. At first I had welcomed the changes and new curves, but because my body had decided to swell and retain a lot of water, by the time I was about to give birth to my son Sam, I felt like a bloated and fat piñata barely able to move.

This time was very different. Throughout my twenties and thirties, I had managed to regain some of my slim, pre-pregnancy figure. Of course, my waist never became quite so small, and my hips retained some of their femininity. Thankfully, my breasts had kept some of the extra mass as well to match my hips.

When I became pregnant a second time, so many years later, I thought I knew what was about to happen to my body. I was wrong. Even though I was now only a few weeks away from giving birth to a daughter, I didn't feel bloated at all. I had gained a lot of weight, of course, but most of it seemed to be in my belly and breasts. I didn't know how big this daughter would be, but my belly was a lot bigger this time around, and so were my breasts.

At first my boyfriend, who wasn't Sam's father, enjoyed my changing body and fixated on my breasts. But for the last few months, his interested waned and I was left pretty much alone to deal with the relentless sexual urges I was feeling. I could have eaten him alive and promised him daily blowjobs if we fucked every night, but he was somehow turned off by the thought of having sex with a baby inside me. Yet for me sex was all I wanted to do!

And so now in the shower, all alone in the house with the music blasting, I enjoyed my body and prepared for a long masturbation session. I caressed my shoulders and neck, smiling as the sensations grew. Despite the hot water I felt goosebumps rising as my fingers kindled a cascade of sweet sensations. Looking down at my breasts again, I saw my long hair all over them, and even down to my belly.

I grabbed the wet tresses and pulled them away, almost giggling as I felt their tips tickle my skin. I played with the long locks, enjoying the way they hung and clung to my curves as if trying to highlight them even more! I caressed my belly and while I had a fleeting thought for my daughter to be, I pushed it aside and focused on my own pleasure.

I pushed my hands lower and reached my pussy, feeling the thickening patch of hair down there. I usually kept it cleanly shaven, but had let it grow during the pregnancy. I didn't know why. As I reached my clit and engorged lips, I forgot about that too. I took a sharp intake of breath as the first spike of pleasure hit me. Shit! I could already feel that this was going to be one powerful orgasm! My pussy also felt engorged and full; I could feel that my lips were significantly bigger. A few days ago I'd had to use a mirror to look at it, and felt like a teenager discovering her body for the first time! I had giggled on my bed, trying to angle the mirror in the best position to see my own pussy.

I turned around and let the shower hit my breasts and belly directly, enjoying the sensations. When I grabbed the soap and began to lather up, I had flashes of the last time my boyfriend fucked my breasts. I had been six months into my pregnancy at that time, and my breasts had already grown dramatically. After my first pregnancy and throughout my thirties, my breasts had never returned to my 30C. Before this second pregnancy, most of my bras now were 32C or 32D. I had felt blessed, as some of my friends' breasts had fallen after breastfeeding. Instead, my post-breastfeeding breasts had remained round and firm. And bigger!

Now though, so near to my term, I was wearing bras with 36E cups! It was insane! And I feared they had grown a bit more since buying those last two bras. Oh, how my boyfriend had loved those breasts during the first five or six months! They had become his altar, and he revered them daily! He had loved to touch, massage, grab, squeeze, lick and kiss them. Just as he had loved to fuck them. And I could have let him do that for hours of end, hungry for sex as I was.

But as my belly began to swell significantly, it all stopped. I was left panting every morning as I watched him get ready for work. At first I would pull the blankets off of me and masturbate openly in front of him. It had worked a few times: he would fuck me quickly before running to work. But after a while, I would only masturbate in silence, under the blankets, as I watched him dress. As soon as I would hear the house's door close, I would finish myself and scream my pleasure.

That is, unless Sam was in the house. But thinking of Sam as I caressed myself in the shower wasn't the best of ideas. About six weeks ago, during the last glorious day of Fall, Sam had spent about an hour splitting wood in the backyard. It had been a warm day with the sun out and soon he'd removed his shirt. I had stared at his powerful torso covered in sweat, glistening under the sun. Through the window I had begun watching him innocently, but without realizing it, my eyes had glazed over and I had spent a long while carelessly caressing my pussy under my yoga pants.

When I'd realized what I was doing I had stopped, shocked, and had moved away from the window. That same night, as my boyfriend was sleeping next to me, my fingers had found their way to my pussy again and images of my son's body had stormed my lust-filled mind. The following morning, alone with him in the house, I had decided to tease myself and had gotten out of my room wearing nothing but my very thin satin night robe. Being almost naked right next to him as we talked and ate our breakfast had been a naughty pleasure. A very intense pleasure, but very naughty, like smoking weed in the backyard when you're sixteen while your parents were sleeping.

As I had sat down in front of him at the table and felt the robe fall from my thighs. I had grinned then, knowing that if he dropped something and knelt under the table he would see my pussy. He hadn't. But even so, I knew that he couldn't miss my nipples as they poked under that thin satin. I had spent hours like this during that morning, naked except for the robe, and it had kept me on a very sharp sexual edge. When he had finally left, I almost ran to my bed to masturbate!

This morning in the shower, my entire body keyed up, I couldn't help but picture that scene again. I had felt bad about masturbating that first time, but now I had thoroughly lost the war against lust. I remembered how his muscles had been taut as he worked under the sun, how powerful he'd looked with the axe as the logs flew everywhere. I moaned out loud, feeling the hot water enter my mouth as I did. As hot as I felt, I nonetheless pulled my fingers away. This shower was only the preliminaries! Damn! I didn't want to cum too quickly and I was not going to jerk off while thinking of my son! I grinned though, as I shook my head and the images came back into my mind, knowing I had already done so a while ago...

The fire that was waiting for me in the living room was probably burning some of the wood he had split for me. I pictured the thick bear rug in front of it, where I was planning on spending at least twenty minutes caressing myself. Before taking my shower, I had closed all the blinds, locked all the doors. This would be a glorious release! Unable to wait anymore, I turned the water off and got out. I wrapped one towel around my hair, pinning it on my head. Instead of drying myself completely, I decided that I would just relax in front of the fire and let it dry me. Then again, there wasn't any fire that would have been able to dry my pussy right now.

When I opened the bathroom door, the music became louder and I decided to dance to it. I walked out slowly, taking my time, making my extremely curvy body turn and sway all over the place. I couldn't dance as fast as I would have liked, but the languorous jazz music fitted my mood perfectly. I felt my legs working hard as I lowered myself, my knees opening and twisting before coming back up. I made a wave from my head to my hips, making my breasts heave and my belly follow.

I reached the kitchen and grabbed the countertop, bending forward and feeling the weight of my belly under me. And my breasts. I smiled as I felt them dangling heavily beneath me, and enjoyed the feelings as they moved from side to side in sync with the rhythm. With one hand, I reached for one of them and grabbed it hard. There wasn't any milk yet, but they certainly felt like they were overfilled. I moaned again, eyes closed and lost in the sensations. I felt the huge aureolas under my fingertips, their dark pink skin covered with tiny bumps, and even felt them rise up to my touch. The nipples themselves were also much, much bigger than they usually were, and when the blood and maybe milk distended them, making them hard, I felt their stiffness against my fingers.

When I straightened up, I pulled my towel off and fluffed up my hair before making my mane swing left and right. The cool tresses on my skin, from my shoulders to my waist, was an added sensation. Still with my eyes closed, I moved slowly but made my upper body move like a flame from side to side. Once more I felt my hair plastered all over my body, hugging my every curve like my boyfriend didn't want to do. I felt my breasts move as I did, sliding over my upper belly. I then pushed my arms above my head, completing the wave and making my breasts thrust forward even more. Every time I arched my back, I felt them thrusting forward and to the side before swinging back down into place. I twisted a few times, adding to the sensual move, as my entire body burned with femininity and raw lust.

And it was then that I opened my eyes and saw Sam in the living room, his jaw opened and eyes wide. From his vantage point he had seen everything. Absolutely everything, including the moment when I had bent forward, grabbed my breast and moaned. Shocking me, the dark side of my mind briefly alighted with lust as I looked at him, shirtless in front of the fire. But that only lasted a fraction of a second. After that I screamed and fumbled to grab my towel and cover myself.

"Sam!" I shouted. "Damn it!" I nearly cursed as I tried to cover myself. But even though I wanted to move quickly, I felt like I was all thumbs. "Why didn't you say anything?" But my son was transfixed, his eyes darting all over my body, his mouth still opened. "Sam!" I shouted again.

"What? Oh! Damn! I'm sorry! Shit! I'm so sorry mom!"

Now halfway decent, I walked towards him, fuming. I could see that he knew I was angry. He was still sitting on the couch with his phone in hand. At least it hadn't been pointing in my direction! "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Hmm. I... I don't know. Mom, I sorry. I should have... I..." he was mumbling incoherently.

"Go to your room and let me dress. We'll talk about this." He hesitated for a moment despite having started to get up. "Well?" I asked, standing next to him with my fists on my hips.

"I... I can't... Oh damn it..."

When he got up I couldn't help but see his erection. It was making a huge tent in his pants, and he didn't have a shirt to hide it. I was left in shock at the sight, and once more my dirty mind tried to take over. But I shook my head and simply stood there waiting for him to disappear up the stairs. I took many deep breaths to calm myself as I looked at the bear rug and the glass of wine that had been waiting for me. I couldn't enjoy that, now. I decided to take a few sips regardless, and went to my own room to dress.

I then went upstairs and knocked on my son's room. I heard him jump on his chair and he said "Wait... Just a sec." Then "Ok." He was sitting at his desk, and kept his back to me. As I sat on his bed, I tried to figure out if he was simply ashamed or if... no, that wasn't possible. I had caught him masturbating a few times in the past. I had never seen him actually do it, but I was pretty sure that I had unwittingly interrupted him before. And it had looked exactly like this. Had he been, just now, because he had seen me? No no no... That was just my hormones talking!

I took a deep breath and tried to focus. "Sam... I sorry I screamed at you earlier. You surprised me. But I have to ask again. Why didn't you say something?"

He took a deep breath before replying "I don't know mom... I'm sorry." he was red faced, barely looking at me.

"Sam. Look at me. It's strange that you didn't say anything, but listen, it's no big deal... You only saw me naked, it's nothing to—" But I stopped, remembering that he had seen me bend forward, grab my breast and moan. Shit. I sighed. "Look. Why don't we just forget that this happened?"

"Sure," he said, weakly.

"Just promise that if this happens again, you'll let me know, OK?"

"Sure," he repeated, clearly uncomfortable.

I didn't know what else to say, and I was pretty sure the best thing was to simply forget about it. I squeezed his shoulder as I got up and closed the door behind me. After taking a first step, I stopped and stood right next to his door. I knew this wasn't a good idea, but I couldn't help myself. That dark side inside me was gaining some ground and I wanted to know if he had really been masturbating. A minute went by, then two. Nothing. Not a sound. I was about to leave when I heard it, a moan. Then another. I carefully leaned against his door and pressed my ear against it.

Damn! I felt a thrill between my legs as I not only heard him breathing hard, not only heard him moaning, but I even heard the rhythm of his fist on his cock. Reflexively, my hand went to my pussy and and gently caressed myself through my yoga pants. When I heard him whispering "Mom!" I froze. The rational part of my mind briefly thought that he had somehow heard me, but the other part just accepted the fact that my own son was masturbating while fantasizing about his pregnant mother, whom he'd just seen naked.

The surge of pleasure I felt almost made me lose my balance. My nipples grew and grew until they looked like two big spikes on my breasts. This time, in my mind's eye, I wasn't seeing him splitting wood. Oh no. I was on my back, my legs splayed opened and he was kneeling between them, splitting my pussy opened. I could see him holding my knees in the air as his long cock ploughed into me relentlessly. He was pounding into me as if trying to split a huge log, striking me hard with his cock. Bang! Bang! Bang...

Shit! This had to stop! I knew that if I let myself cum right here, I could never keep it silent. I pulled my fingers away and listened a few moments more until I heard him climax, heard his chair creaking as he arched outwards in pleasure and whispered my name again.

I walked back down shakily, carefully managing the stairs and went to my room. I closed and locked the door, fell on my bed and made myself climax in less than fifteen seconds. My entire body was burning, from my big breasts and belly to my quivering thighs and glistening fingers. I pictured Sam doing so many nasty things to me, pictured myself doing even worse things to him, some of those probably illegal in some states... If Sam were to enter my room right now, I'd let him do whatever he wished with me. Any fucking thing. Looking down, I could see my huge nipples protruding lewdly from my top even through my bra. I grabbed one of them with my free and and stretched my pleasure as long as I could.

As I stood up afterwards, I knew that even though this climax had been profoundly satisfying, I was still keenly aroused. After changing my panties to a dry pair, I stood in front of my mirror, staring into my own eyes. My own son was lusting after me. And that only made me even more aroused than I already was. This was wrong... This was wrong on so many levels. But as my pussy still tingled, images of him covering his belly with his sperm while thinking of me came to my mind.

I walked to my door and paused one last time before opening it. I had to make a decision. In a few weeks I was going to give birth to my daughter and won't be able to have sex for a couple of months. My boyfriend wasn't interested in sex with me, and even though his appetite would most likely return in a few months, it didn't help me right now. And finally, there was a delicious male in the house, a male who had been transfixed by the sight of my naked dance, had masturbated thinking about me and was probably still hard for me right now. Right this minute. He was hard, I was wet. Wasn't it as simple as that? No, but... I opened the door and exited my room with my decision made: I was going to seduce and fuck my own son.

I spent the next half hour alone in the living room, trying to read a novel but finding that one of my hands was always slipping towards my pussy. I built the fire to a roaring heat, hoping that Sam would remain shirtless today. I had no idea what he had planned, as he hadn't been supposed to be home. I was now wearing my black yoga pants, clean but probably damp panties, a bra and a white tank top. Nothing else. I let my hair loose, flowing all over myself, as I knew Sam liked it. Actually, everybody I knew loved it when I let my thick hair free, but today I was doing it for Sam.

He eventually came back down, driven by his stomach. Then again, as he saw me on the couch, with my breasts outlined by the tight top and my nipples poking out, I was pretty sure that something else was also driving him. He had put his shirt back on, but after complaining about the heat he removed it again. We ate together, reheating last night's dinner, and talked a bit. I was leading the conversation, and noticed that he was stealing glances at my cleavage every time I turned my head around.

My sports bra wasn't up for the challenge of making my breasts pop so I had to find another way. As we were nearly finished, I got up and leaned over the table to grab Sam's plate. As I did, he stared into my cleavage, his eyes growing round. The little devil was gawking at my breasts shamelessly, not even bothering to hide the fact. Or, rather, he didn't seem able to realize that he was doing it. I was grinning as I pulled away. Sam surprised me by bringing the rest of the plate to the kitchen. Wearing nothing but his blue jeans, he slipped behind me, squeezing himself between my ass and the kitchen island. In the process, he rubbed himself against me, and I felt a significant bulge scrape against my ass.

I couldn't know if it was his phone, wallet or cock, but my body didn't care and I felt pleasure flaring deep between my legs. He mumbled a "Sorry mom..." as he did, only to do it again a moment later as he went back to the table. He could have walked around the island, so I knew that he was doing it on purpose. As I felt my pussy heating up, I realized that I wasn't the only one who hadn't been entirely satisfied with my climax. As I had my back to him, I pulled the tank top slightly lower, revealing more of my cleavage.