This is a print version of story The Son was Born with a large cock by MarieL from

The Son was Born with a large cock

My son has a very large penis, and somehow it makes me feel proud. Well, if I'm honest, that was when I saw it, but now, all this pride has been replaced by something more sinister and dark, I want to feel it inside me.

I know it is not natural for a mother to covet her son's sexual organ, but the other morning I woke up and immediately remembered dreaming about us having sex, and you know what, I felt no shame, in fact it was the exact opposite, I wanted to relive my dream, and have full intercourse with him, my only problem is, I would be breaking the law, as he is still u******e.

My attraction to his genitals could border on an Oedipus complex, in which I am in some sense, in love with the baby I created, in love with my own creation, and his large penis was created in my desirous stage, I willed it, during my pregnancy, and delighted in it, when the nurses present delivered him with much emphasis on his cock size, they too were immediately attracted to him, and gave him more love that other babies of normal genitalia.

I suckled him on my swollen teat, and held him between my fingers, and as he developed more, allowed others to bath him, so they too could marvel at his size.

My daughter, his elder by eight years, from my first marriage, was charged with his well-being, and looking after him.
I would watch as they bathed together, through the hinged aperture in the door, I wanted to see as she soaped him how how he would react, and the joy I felt when he did one time, so I left the c***dren to enjoy their frolicking.

She entered her mid teens and still insisted to bathe with him, I watched their love develop, and for a short time let them share a room together, until my daughter debauched herself, again as I watched, it was time to separate them, and I had my excuse.

In the morning I confronted her and gave her an alternative, call the police, or send her to bide with her father-in-law, himself a sex offender, that was five years ago, and I hear they are still living together.

But now my son is mine, primed by his s****r and her needs, starved by her absence, I feel the time is ripe as I walk out of my room, to let him see me in my full bloom, and rekindle his youthful lusting and curiosities of the womanly form, the loving embrace of a mother, to connect, and remain connected, as we were by our umbilical chord, now replaced in the shape of his penis, I call his name, as I walk out into the carpeted corridor, completely nude, and make for the top of the stairs, where I stand in expectation, my legs open, I call again, this time there is a response, and i hear him approach the bottom of the stairs, and look up between my legs.

His mouth drops open, and his face goes ashen, but I smile, feeling no shame, as i flaunt my womanhood down at him, 'Bring me a towel', I say softly, 'bring it to my room', I add, for it is there I shall take him, and before I turn back to my bed of shame, I see him smile, and I walk shakily down the carpeted corridor, myself wetting in expectation, seven barren years, were about to be banished, and replaced by an object I have craved since he came into the world, I walked into my be continued.

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