It was February 8th, Ben's eighteenth birthday, and he was out celebrating with his friends. I was so proud of him, for growing up into such a caring, smart, and handsome young man, and for cultivating a nice little group of friends. It hadn't always been easy. His dad had died when Ben was two, just when we were getting ready to try for another child.
Ben had grown up sweet and shy, a little more attached to me than maybe was healthy, but I loved being a team with him. I never remarried, and never really even dated. I always put Ben first, and he returned the favor. We could always count on each other when things got tough. I'd help him with any problem and he'd help me. So maybe it was only natural what ended up happening when Ben came home on his birthday to find me crying.
I'd been emotional in the weeks leading up to the big birthday, so happy for him but also sad that he wouldn't be mine any longer, that he'd already gotten into a great college and soon I'd be at home alone. Being his mom had been my life, and I wasn't ready to give it up.
But these feelings hadn't boiled over until his actual birthday. I'd made him a nice breakfast and given him his gift before school, and now I was dangerously alone with my thoughts. I got a bottle of wine out with my dinner, then was surprised to find it empty by the time I was done eating.
So I opened a second one, and then I dug out my old photo albums, and before I knew it it was midnight. I was sitting in the dark living room, wearing my bathrobe and crying over Ben's baby pictures. A pathetic sight for my boy to come home to.
"Hey Mom, are you okay?" he asked as he entered, stepping forward carefully.
I didn't get drunk very often, and he wasn't used to seeing me like this.
"Oh, hey, I'm sorry," I sniffed, taking off my glasses and wiping my eyes. "I'm fine, just getting a little emotional, what else is new?" I could hear myself slurring my words. I was farther gone than I thought. I'd made a fair dent in that second bottle.
Ben came and sat beside me on the couch, putting his hand on my back. "What are you looking at?"
I looked down. The photo album was open in my lap to a spread of pictures of Ben as a newborn, starting with images of me at nine months pregnant. "I just can't believe you're eighteen," I hiccuped.
Ben smiled down at the pictures. "I know you're sad," he said. "But even though I'm an adult, I'm still yours. I promise."
My lip trembled and I threatened to lose it all over again. I fought for my composure. "I know, honey, thank you," I said, pulling him close, wrapping my arms around him. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"And I don't know what I'd do without you," Ben said. "We look out for each other, right?" I nodded, and held the hug for a few more moments before letting him go. He got to his feet and found a box of tissues for me. I gratefully wiped my eyes and blew my nose.
"I'm sorry, Mom's had too much to drink," I say, holding up my wine glass. "But we're celebrating, right? Would you like some?"
Ben was a born rule-follower, and I doubted he'd take me up on my offer. He was the one teenager I'd believe when he said he didn't drink or do drugs. But he eyed the wine and shrugged. "Are you sure?"
"I'm gonna die if I finish this bottle on my own," I laughed. "Go get a glass." He left, and when he returned he had an empty wine glass and a full cup of water.
"You should drink this," he said, handing me the water.
"Yes, sir." I drank half of it, topped off my wine, then poured some for him. "To my boy becoming a man," I said, raising my glass for a toast. "I couldn't be more proud of you." My voice was shaky again.
"Thanks, Mom." We clinked glasses and drank. Ben made a face and powered through it. When he drank, I could almost see his dad, as he'd been twenty years ago. That same face. That same knowing smile. My heart ached.
"What?" Ben looked up at me, puzzled. I must have been staring.
"Oh, sorry," I said. I could feel myself blushing. "I just can't believe you grew up to be such a handsome man."
Ben looked down at the photos, finding one of his dad holding him. "Is it weird that I look so much like him?"
"No," I said, shaking my head vigorously. "I love it. Whenever I miss him, I feel like I can look into his eyes. I can take his hand." I grasped Ben's hand and squeezed it. "I don't know what I'm gonna do without you, Ben."
"I know, Mom," he said, squeezing my hand back. "I won't really be gone, I'll just be a few hours away. But I know it's not the same."
I took another swallow of wine. "Honey, can I tell you something embarrassing?"
"Sure, Mom, we can tell each other anything." What a kid, I thought. He probably just wants to go to bed after a long night celebrating with his friends but here he was, happily listening to my drunken babbling.
"I've been thinking of having another baby," I said, looking down at my glass. I could feel my face flushing red from wine and embarrassment. "Like, for a long time now. I've even looked at some sperm banks. Is that ridiculous?"
Ben shook his head and smiled. "Of course not, Mom. I know you always wanted a bigger family."
And that was true. It was no secret that I'd wanted three or four kids, and Ben knew I sometimes got sad that my plans had been cut short.
"If another kid would make you happy, then you should have one." He sipped his wine. The taste seemed to be growing on him.
"Really?" I laughed. "You don't think I'm crazy? I'm probably too old to get pregnant anyway, that's what the sperm banks told me. It'd be weird to have kids eighteen years apart, but... I'm just not ready to be done being a mom."
"You do what you have to do," Ben said. "You're a great mom and any kid would be lucky to have you."
"Thanks, sweetie," I sniffed. "I wouldn't want to do this without you being okay with it. I think it's just a pipe dream, though. The sperm banks wouldn't help me because I'm almost 42. I'm not interested in dating anyone. What am I going to do?"
A tear rolled down my cheek. Ben set down his empty glass and wrapped his arms around me.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I wish I could help you," he said. "Is there anything I can do?"
"I just wish I could have a handsome young man like you as my donor," I murmured through my tears. "I'd want all my babies to look the same anyways." I hiccuped. I was definitely drunk, and the smart move was probably to go to bed. But I felt a weight lifting off of me as I really talked about this for the first time.
"Like me?" Ben said, rubbing my back.
"Yeah, like you," I replied, holding him tight. "I know you'd help me if you could."
"I would, Mom. I'd do anything for you."
A filthy thought was running through my mind, not for the first time. I wasn't expecting it to come out of my mouth, but there it was: "What if you were my donor?"
Ben broke the hug and pulled back. "What?" He didn't seem upset. Just confused, like maybe he'd misheard me. "Mom, what are you talking about?"
I was just about as shocked as he was, to hear myself say that out loud. I stared at the floor, humiliated. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm drunk. I should go to bed."
"No, wait," he said, reaching out and touching my knee. "It's okay. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Can you just tell me what you meant?"
"I'm drunk," I repeated, looking into my empty wine glass. "I'm not making sense."
"Tell me," he said.
"I don't know," I sighed. "If it were you, I wouldn't have to deal with a sperm bank... or any strange men I don't want around anyway... I wouldn't have to get pregnant with a one-night stand... all I want is you, Ben. You and a baby." I shook my head, trying to clear my mind.
Ben was silent for a bit. I noticed he was on his second glass of wine. "I guess I get it. When you have a kid, you want it to be with someone you love."
"You don't have to humor me," I said, struggling to get to my feet. My head felt all swimmy and I stumbled, and somehow Ben was there to catch me. He held me up, his arms around my shoulders. He's a good head taller than me, and I felt safe in his arms.
"I think we should get you to bed, Mom." He was right. I let him guide me up the stairs to my room, where I staggered into my bathroom. I sat on the toilet, feeling hot and embarrassed, convinced I'd ruined the night and made an idiot of myself. I waited long enough that I was sure he was gone, then I cleaned myself up and left the bathroom.
Ben was still there, sitting on the edge of my bed. He got up when I came in, pulling back the sheets for me. "Thank you," I murmured. "I'm sorry you had to take care of me on your birthday."
"It's okay," he said. He reached out, ready to help, but I managed to get in bed on my own. I felt better already, sitting back against the headboard. The room wasn't spinning any longer. Ben sat at the foot of the bed, looking into space.
"You can go to bed, sweetie," I said. "Thank you so much for your help."
He was quiet for another moment. "If you want to, I'll do it."
"What?" I asked.
"Help you get pregnant."
I took a deep breath. "I know you want to help me. But that would be crazy. Wouldn't it?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. But it'd make you happy, wouldn't it? I want you to be happy."
I knew I had to still be drunk, because he was making sense to me. "Wouldn't that be weird, though? Knowing it was... yours?"
He shook his head. "I'd just be a donor. I'd love to have a little brother or sister."
"You'd be the best big brother," I said, smiling wide. "I always thought so."
"Then let me help you," he said, finally turning to face me. He put a hand on my leg.
"I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you," I said. "I'll be okay, Ben."
"You wouldn't be forcing me. What if I want to?" His eyes met mine. I blushed. I remembered, when he was first hitting puberty, how I used to catch him peeking at me when I changed clothes, and once or twice I'd found my underwear hidden in his room.
I'd thought for a while that he had a little crush on me, that I was encouraging something strange in him, that we were too close. But that had been a phase. He was normal, we were normal. Right?
Ben had come around and laid down beside me in bed. "Mom, just think about it. You really want another kid?"
I nodded. "I really do."
"What do you want more? A boy or a girl?"
"I always wanted a girl after you," I smiled.
"Imagine her," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Imagine holding her and playing with her... how cute she'd be... how happy she'd make you..."
I nodded, sniffling as I daydreamed.
"Let me help you," Ben said, and he kissed me. Not on the cheek, like he sometimes did. On the lips. I gasped, not expecting that, but I let him do it. At first it was strange, and then my body relaxed.
The kiss ended, and I started another one. I wrapped my arms around him, held him close. Ben wasn't an expert kisser but he was enthusiastic, so much so that I had to pause and tell him to slow down. I showed him what I liked: slow, gentle kisses, tender and deliberate.
I felt the love between us so strongly. If I hadn't been tipsy, the bizarre nature of the whole thing would have been overwhelming, but I felt warm and safe in my son's arms.
As we kissed, his hand began to explore. He felt down my side, over my plush robe, tracing my curves. He rubbed my back. We'd always been comfortable being physical with each other, but this felt different. Especially when he found his way to my butt, then squeezed it through my robe.
I explored his body too. Feeling his shoulders, his forearms, his back. He had his father's tall, skinny physique. Maybe, I told myself, I could close my eyes and imagine it was him instead. But did I need to? My body was warming up. I could feel my heart beating faster, my breaths getting shallower, heat building between my legs. I wanted this, I realized.
Ben pulled back. "Mom?" he asked.
"What?"
He tugged gently at the belt of my robe. "Can I undo this?" I looked at him. My mouth was dry. The robe, all of a sudden, felt hot and restrictive.
"Hold on just a second." I rolled over and turned off the lamp. When I turned back to him, I could see him smiling in the dark.
"Now?" he asked. Polite and sweet as ever. I nodded. Ben slowly undid the tie and eased my robe open. I felt a nervous pit in my stomach. He was a horny teenager, and he wanted to help me, but what would he think of actually seeing my body?
I was definitely chubby, especially my lower half with big wide hips and fat thighs. My belly was still soft and round and stretchmarked from my pregnancy eighteen years ago, and my breasts, while fairly large, hung low, not as perky and full as they used to be. I hadn't trimmed my pubic hair in years. Laying in bed probably wasn't my best angle, my tummy bunched up in rolls, my boobs hanging to either side.
I'd averted my eyes, but now I looked up at Ben. He was smiling wide when my eyes met his. "Wow," he said gently. I wasn't sure if he was just being nice, trying not to hurt my feelings. I know he wanted to help me. "Mom, you're beautiful."
"You really think so?" I asked, fighting the urge to cover myself up. The last man I'd been naked in front of was his dad, in another lifetime.
"Yeah!" he exclaimed, then laughed. I laughed too. This whole thing was so strange. But laughing helped me relax.
"Have you ever seen a naked woman before?" I asked once I'd gotten the giggles out. I knew Ben had been on a few dates, but he'd never had a steady girlfriend. I had a feeling he was a virgin.
"No," he said, a little sheepishly.
"So you'd probably be excited to see any woman naked."
"No!" he said, sounding genuinely hurt. "Mom, you look great."
"Relax, I'm teasing you. Are you gonna take your clothes off too?"
"Yeah." He got out of bed and took off his shirt, then he hesitated as he undid his belt. I sat up a little and shrugged the robe off my shoulders, giving him a better look at my naked body. He watched closely, forgetting what he was doing.
"Don't be embarrassed," I told him. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."
"This is different," he said. He was right. He continued to fiddle with his belt.
"Ben, you know, if you change your mind-"
He dropped his pants before I could finish the sentence, leaving him in just his boxer briefs, which had a pretty noticeable bulge in them. My eyes went to it and I blushed. He watched me look at it. Then he took a deep breath and pulled down the underwear.
"It's not that big," he said quietly.
"Oh, honey, is that what you're worried about?" I smiled. His penis wasn't huge, but it wasn't small either. It stuck straight out, hard and proud, maybe five inches. It had been a long time since I saw a man's penis hard for me. "It's a great size."
"It is?" he asked. He also seemed to want to cover himself.
"And look how hard it is," I smiled, holding back a laugh. "Is that really from looking at me?" He nodded. Even in the near-dark I could tell his face was red. "Can I touch it?"
"Yeah," he whispered. I slowly grasped his penis, feeling how hard it was, how ready. He let out a groan the instant I touched him. Gently I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, then stroked it. He shuddered. "That feels really good."
"Come back to bed," I told him. "You can touch me."
He climbed in beside me and went straight for my breasts, grabbing one in each hand. My whole body was tingling. "Remember, anytime you want to stop, you can. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
"I don't want to stop," he said, and his voice wasn't like I'd ever heard it before. It was low and husky, choked with excitement. His mouth hung open as he played with my boobs, lifting them, squeezing them. My nipples, which were dark pink and hung low on my breasts, hardened at his touch. It was my turn to groan.
I sank back into the pillows, closing my eyes. He was being a little rough but his enthusiasm was infectious. It turned me on to see how excited he was. I could feel myself getting hotter, wetter, and I spread my legs without thinking about it.
He kissed me again, catching me by surprise, and I kissed him back. He continued fondling me as we kissed, and I reached down and touched his hardness. He moaned against my lips. I felt sexy. Powerful. Ben's hand roamed, squeezing, sizing me up as it went.
He felt my soft tummy, my round hip. He groaned when he took one of my butt cheeks in his hand. Then my jiggly thigh. Then his fingers ran through the wiry forest around my crotch, went lower, lower... and found my opening. He gasped. I gasped.
"Is that your..." he trailed off. I laughed at the absurdity. There he was, his hand on his own mother's crotch, and he was too embarrassed to say it.
"Vagina?" I asked. "Yes it is."
His fingers ran around it, feeling my protruding lips, then tentatively pressed in. I was hot already. Wet. He let out an impressed murmur. "Wow." He pressed further, one of his fingers disappearing inside me, and I shuddered. I was as insecure about my parts as he was about his- I worried my pussy was too hairy, too floppy, too loose- but he didn't seem to mind.
"You wanna go inside it?" I asked him.
"Yeah!" He said, then laughed. "I'm kinda nervous. I've never done it before."
"And I haven't done it in over fifteen years," I told him. "There's nothing to worry about. But I'm ready. When you are, just get on top."
"Okay," Ben sighed, and he kissed me again. The bedsprings creaked as he got up on his hands and knees. I spread my legs for him, putting my knees up and tilting my hips. He climbed on top of me, and I could tell he was nervous. "Sorry," he whispered as he lost his balance, resting all his weight on me.
"You're fine," I assured him, looking up at him. I put my hands on his hips. I could feel his hard penis against my stomach; at least he hadn't gone soft. "You're just gonna need to be a little lower. Let me show you." I guided him by his hips and he moved down. His breathing was fast and shallow. I reached under him and took his penis in my hand, pressing it against my opening.
I looked up into Ben's eyes. "Alright, sweetie, when you're ready, just push in," I told him, my hand on his shoulder. "Just go nice and slow. I love you."
"I love you too, Mom," he smiled, and he seemed to relax a bit. He took a deep breath and pushed into me. First the angle wasn't quite right, and he was pressing against the wrong part, but then he slipped in and he cried out. He followed my instructions, sinking into me slowly, inch by inch, and a wave of pleasure crashed over me.
I had forgotten how good it felt, to have a man inside me. My fingers gripped his hips, my nails digging into his skin. I inhaled sharply.
"Is that okay?" he asked nervously. "Am I hurting you?"
"It feels amazing," I breathed as he bottomed out. "How does it feel to you?"
"So good," he laughed. "Oh my God."
"I can't believe this," I marveled. "Can you?"
"No," he said, still giggly.
"You're doing great," I told him. "Just start rocking back and forth. Your body should know what to do."
"Okay," he said, and I was right. He thrust into me and let out a happy groan, discovering how good it felt. He did it again. And again. His movements were jerky, no rhythm to them, but I could tell how good he was feeling. He closed his eyes, his face scrunched up as he grunted and shoved his penis in again and again, the bed creaking-
"Oh my God!" he cried, and buried himself deep. I felt a rush of heat and realized he had finished, not sixty seconds after entering me. But I didn't mind. That heat meant I had what I wanted. Seed. Sperm. Swimming up inside me, looking for my eggs.
Ben shuddered and gasped, riding out the most intense pleasure of his young life, and I let him go. Finally he fell onto me, spent, panting. I stroked his back.
"Oh, Mom, I'm sorry," he murmured when he had his composure back.
"Why are you sorry?" I asked, kissing his cheek.
"I came... I came so fast..."
"It must have felt really good, then," I said.
"Yeah," he panted.
"You gave me what I wanted," I said, kissing his cheek again. "Thank you."
"But, uh, did you come?"
That made me laugh. "No, but it felt really good. You did great. Just get off me when you can."
"Sorry." Ben grunted as he rolled off me, pulling out his still-hard penis. He laid beside me, gasping for air, a big dumb smile on his face.
"You did great," I told him again. "And if you want to try again we can."
"That felt so good," he breathed, reaching over and lazily grabbing my breast. "Really, really good. Amazing."
I kissed him gently on the lips. "You're a man now, sweetie. Congratulations."
He played with my breast a little, but his eyes were closed. He was spent. And so was I. It had been a long night, and the alcohol was trying to lull me to sleep. I could still feel warmth deep inside me where Ben had shot his sperm, and I moved my hand to my tummy, dreamily imagining new life growing there as I drifted off to sleep.
------X------
The next morning I was disoriented. I woke up early, like I usually do after I've been drinking, with a pounding headache. I was surprised to find myself naked and a man snoring next to me- not just a man, my eighteen-year-old son. It all came back to me in a rush: the wine, the crying, telling Ben I wanted a baby, undressing in front of my son, letting him climb on top of me... the sound he made as he came inside me...
I moved quickly to the bathroom, and sat on the toilet until I regained my composure. I couldn't believe I'd actually done it. I hoped Ben wouldn't be angry or disgusted, like I'd taken advantage of him. But, after that dizzy moment of shock, I was still happy it happened. I knew I had a man's seed inside me, and maybe I was pregnant already. I didn't regret what I'd done, only hoped that Ben felt okay.
He was awake when I stepped out of the bathroom, still naked, my hair a mess, dried semen on my thighs. He looked up at me and smiled.
"Ben, are you okay?" I asked as I got back under the sheets, hiding from the February chill. "I understand if you don't feel good about what happened last night. I was so drunk..."
"Mom, it's alright," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "I feel good about it. What about you? I didn't make you do something you didn't want while you were drunk, did I?"
I laughed with relief. "No, honey. As long as you're okay with it, I'm very happy."
"Good," he said, pulling me in and kissing my cheek. "Can we do it again?"
I smiled. "It felt that good, huh?"
"Yeah," he said, his face red. "Is it weird that I really liked it?"
"No, sweetie," I told him. "It's supposed to feel good. Especially when you do it with someone you love."
"Well, I love you a lot," Ben said, kissing my cheek again. He rested his hand on my stomach. "When will we know if you're pregnant?"
"It'll be a couple weeks before I can take a test," I said. "And we don't know for sure this'll work. I might just be too old."
"I hope it works," he said. "The more times we try, the better the chances, right?"
That made me smile. "When do you want to try again?"
"How about now?" Ben asked, and cupped my breast. I giggled. Ben tossed back the sheets, showing that he was hard already, and he climbed on top of me. I could feel him poking against my opening.
"Mmm, slow down, mister," I said, looking up at him. "You gotta get me ready first."
"Oh," he laughed. "Sorry."
"That's fine. I'm glad you're so excited," I smiled. "The way you did it last night was great. Just a couple minutes of touching and kissing will really help a woman get ready for sex."
"Got it," he nodded, always a quick study. He was eager to learn and eager to please. We kissed for a few minutes and he squeezed my breasts and I told him to be more gentle with them. He groped softly and teased my nipples with his fingers until they were hard as rocks.
"That's more like it," I cooed in his ear. Next I reminded him that there were other places women liked to be touched, guiding his hands to my neck, my shoulders, my thighs. I knew Ben was already hard but he got more and more excited as he ran his hands over my body, really exploring it as we kissed.
Before long I was ready and I told him, even taking his hand and moving it to my vagina so he could feel how wet I was. Together we positioned him, and when he entered me this time I took his hips and showed him how to go slow and build a rhythm.
It was better than the night before. Ben thrust into my body and I rocked my hips with him and I encouraged him, telling him how well he was doing, how good it felt. He smiled with pride on top of me and reported, breathlessly, how good he felt. He tried to grasp my breasts as he thrust but lost his balance, and we laughed together and got him going again.
He lasted a few minutes this time before his face scrunched up and his movements got fast and spastic and he exploded into me, howling with pleasure. When he rolled off, panting and sweating, he was grinning ear to ear. "That was better than the first time," he said, squeezing my hand.
"Yes it was," I replied, taking a pillow and stuffing it under my hips.
"What's that for?"
"It's to get the sperm where it needs to be," I said, still catching my breath.
"Wow," Ben said, looking my body over. I was shiny with sweat and needed a shower pretty badly, and the bright morning light didn't hide things like my wrinkles or stretchmarks. But the way he looked at me made me feel beautiful. "Do you really think in nine months you'll have a baby?"
"I hope so," I said. Ben thought for a moment, figuring something out.
"I'll be away at college by then," he said. "Will you be okay?"
"I'll be fine," I smiled. "You can come visit, but I want school to be your top priority, okay? I'm ready to do this and raise a baby on my own, that's all I want. I'm not expecting you to stick around and be a dad."
"Okay, Mom," he said. "But I still want to help."
"I know, baby," I said, leaning over and kissing him.
That's how the next few weeks went. Ben and I went about our normal lives; he went to school, I went to work. He had his friends over. He did homework and prepared for his final exams and I made dinner and paid bills and talked with my friends.
Our relationship didn't really change much. I still acted like his mom, not his girlfriend, and made it clear that what we were doing, while intimate- we'd kiss and cuddle when we made love- wasn't romantic. I wanted Ben to be normal. I wanted him to find a girl his age to be with, and not be attached to his mom forever. And I felt like I was helping him gain confidence, teaching him to be a good and loving partner.
We made love four or five times a week, fewer if he was really busy with homework or his friends. It was always more or less the same: we'd have a normal evening and both go to change for bed, and if he wanted it he'd come to my room afterwards. Outside my room, during the day, we were a normal mother and son.
I taught Ben how to do a few different positions, and taught him that penetrative sex wasn't enough for most women to reach orgasm. I showed him a bit about anatomy, helping him find my clit and stimulate it with his fingers. We talked about oral sex but it seemed somehow too intimate for us, and besides, I wanted to focus on getting pregnant.
A few weeks after our first time, I got my period. We were both disappointed but I reiterated that this might take a while; I wasn't as fertile as I'd been eighteen years ago. I also reminded Ben that we could stop at any time and I wouldn't be mad, even if I didn't get pregnant.
But he didn't want to stop, and neither did I. Our lovemaking sessions stopped feeling strange surprisingly quickly, and came to be the highlight of my day. I felt lighter and happier, knowing that Ben would take care of me, pleasure me and cuddle me, and that he was working hard to give me the thing I wanted the most. I took vitamins and changed my diet, trying to get ready for a healthy pregnancy.
My period came again in March and I felt discouraged, resigning myself to the fact that this might not happen. I assured Ben that he wasn't doing anything wrong. He read up on fertility and offered all sorts of suggestions, but mostly I ignored them, telling him that if it was meant to happen it would happen. Maybe I was silly to want another baby after all this time.
But as Ben's final exams approached in April, I realized I was late. I didn't tell him at first, not wanting to get his hopes up or distract from his studies. But after two weeks of waiting I was ready to find out. Ben was already asking if my period had come, and I explained that it was irregular. Two weeks late didn't mean I was pregnant. But I hoped and prayed that it did.
One day when Ben got home from school I called him into the living room. "What's up, Mom?" he asked. I just smiled and pointed to the pregnancy test, still in its box, on the coffee table. "Oh my God," he said. "You really think so?"
"We're not going to get our hopes up too much," I told him. "But I'm almost three weeks late. I think it's time to take it."
"Can we do it now?" he asked, picking up the test box. How could I say no to that?
I took the test up to my bathroom. Ben asked if he could come in with me but I told him to wait on my bed. He read the instructions and explained them to me twice and I laughed. "Sweetie, I've done this before. Don't worry." I gave him a kiss on the cheek and closed the bathroom door.
My fingers trembled as I held the test between my legs and peed. As much as I tried to temper my expectations, I was excited. It might have been my imagination, but my breasts felt sore, and I'd been exhausted the last few weeks. It wasn't impossible. I cleaned myself up and brought the test out to Ben.
"Set a timer, baby," I told him, sitting beside him on the bed. He started counting down from two minutes and put his hand on my knee.
"We'll keep trying if it's negative," he said. "Even if I go off to school before it works, I can come home and we can keep trying."
"Thank you, Ben," I said. He seemed nervous and I felt like I should be the one comforting him. But, as always, he took care of me. "I love you."
"I love you too, Mom," he said, taking my hand. We had a minute left. I tried not to imagine holding a sweet baby girl. If I wanted it too much, it wouldn't happen. Finally Ben's phone beeped. He stopped the timer.
"I can't look at it," I told him. "Can you tell me what it says?"
Ben looked at the test. Then he read the instructions again. Then looked at the test again. The wait killed me, but I also felt like I was putting off bad news. The longer it took him, the longer I could believe it might really happen.
"Mom, you're pregnant," he said, once he was finally sure what he was looking at.
"No I'm not!" I gasped. "Show me!"
"Two lines!" he said, showing me the test and the instructions together. "Two lines means you're pregnant!"
"Oh my God," I breathed. My body felt limp. I kind of fell forward, catching my face in my hands, and I was sobbing. I was dimly aware of Ben rubbing my back as I cried.
"Congratulations," he said, and I could hear emotion in his voice too.
"Thank you," I told him, the words difficult to get out. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..." I straightened up and hugged him tight, crying into his shoulder, repeating "thank you" again and again while he rubbed my back.
"You're welcome, Mom," he said, kissing the top of my head. "I love you."
It took a while but I calmed down enough to be able to talk. "I can't believe it. I didn't think this would ever happen."
"You deserve it," Ben said, taking my hand again. "Anyone would be lucky to have you as a mom."
I rested my head on his shoulder, wiping away my tears. "You're too good to me."
"So what happens now?" he asked.
"Well, I'll have to make a doctor's appointment to get everything checked out," I said dreamily. "Find out when I'm due, how far along I am... in a couple months we'll be able to see the gender..."
"You're really excited about this," Ben smiled, squeezing my hand. "I love seeing you this happy."
"Are you excited?" I asked.
He sighed. "I am. But it's a little crazy."
"I know, baby," I said, moving closer to him. "It's okay to have a lot of different feelings. Having a baby is a really big thing. But remember, this doesn't mean you're a dad. It just means you're going to be a big brother."
"I know," he said. "But I'm still gonna feel bad going away to college."
"You shouldn't," I told him. "That's exactly what I want you to do. You're gonna go off and become successful and have your own life, and I get to keep being a mom. And every time you come home to visit, you'll get to see your little sister. You're going to be the best brother, you'll spoil her and take her out to do fun stuff her mom won't let her do..."
He smiled at that. "That'll be fun."
"I know this is kind of a weird situation," I said, stroking his hair. "I'm sorry you don't get to share your feelings about this with anyone else. But I'm always here. You can tell me anything."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, honey."
He hesitated, seeming embarrassed. "Now that you're pregnant, does that mean we're going to stop having sex?"
I laughed. "Do you want to stop?"
He shook his head. "No. I really like it. I was worried you wouldn't want to anymore."
I got into bed, laying on top of the sheets, getting comfortable. "Are you still going to want to when I get a big fat belly?"
He got in bed beside me. "How long until you start to show?"
"Don't worry, at least three or four months," I smiled. "But I'm warning you, I got huge when I was pregnant with you. And that was when I was skinny."
He placed his hand on my stomach, rubbing around as if he could feel a difference. "I think you'll look cute."
"Seriously, though, we can keep making love, but I still want you to go out and find a girl your own age," I told him. "I don't want this to stop you from having a normal life."
"Okay," he said. We'd been over this before. "I'm really happy for you, Mom." Ben leaned down and planted a kiss on my stomach, and my heart melted. I pulled him back up and kissed him on the lips.
"I'm glad you don't want to stop," I told him, then kissed him again. "I've been having so much fun."
"Me too," he breathed, rolling onto his side and wrapping his arms around me. His lips found mine, and his hand found my butt.
"I need to properly thank you for giving me a baby," I whispered between kisses. "How should I do that?"
He smiled. "You could get on top."
I rolled on top of him, kissing him hard, pressing him into the bed. I could feel his bulge between us. I straddled him, grinding against him to hear him groan. "Help me take my dress off."
Usually when we made love I was dressed for bed already; it was exciting to feel Ben fumbling with my clothes, tugging down the zipper on my dress and working fast to help me out of it. When I had it off, he groped my breasts through my bra.
"These are gonna get bigger, aren't they?" he asked, and I nodded.
"They're already a little tender," I said.
"Oh, I'm sorry." He took his hands away.
"No, just be gentle. It's exciting. Things are happening already." Ben paused to undo the clasp on my bra; I was proud when it only took him two tries. "You don't have to go too easy on me, just because I'm pregnant."
"I think they might be bigger already," he said, staring at my swinging breasts. He leaned in and kissed them gently. My toes curled. When he kissed my nipples and began to suck them, I couldn't take it anymore.
I got up, pulled his shirt off, then undid his belt and tugged down his pants. He helped me, pulling down his underwear, freeing his hard, ready penis. I took off my panties and got back on top. "Are you ready?" he asked, and I just smiled. I grabbed his shaft and pushed it up into me in one go, gasping with pleasure.
"What do you think?" I asked, watching with pride as his face contorted. Usually our lovemaking was slow and gentle, and this time I wanted it fast. I rocked back and forth on him rapidly, grinding my clit against his hardness, bouncing my breasts in his face. My bed creaked underneath us, and the headboard slammed into the wall.
"Oh my God!" he groaned. "Slow down!"
"Why?" I panted. "Does it hurt?"
"No!" he laughed. "It feels too good! I'm gonna come!"
"Good," I said. I pushed my chest into his head. "Come on, suck them." He had barely gotten his mouth around my nipple when he began to thrash beneath me, making muffled anguished sounds. His hips thrust up and I felt the heat that signaled a fresh batch of seed swimming up into my body. Ben flopped back into the sheets.
"Wow," he panted, looking up at me with a dazed look in his eyes. I felt him softening inside me as he reached up and touched my breasts and my stomach. My hands joined his as we silently imagined what would happen to my body over the coming months, and I beamed with joy. I couldn't remember ever being so happy.
------X------
That frantic celebration of my positive pregnancy test was actually the last time we made love for a while. When I was pregnant with Ben, I'd had it easy. I'd gotten a little nauseous here and there, and had decided that the whole throwing-up-every-morning thing was made up for TV. But I'd been in my mid-twenties then, and almost two decades later the first trimester hit me hard.
Not long after my first doctor's appointment, where I had my pregnancy confirmed and was given a December 15 due date, I started feeling sick and woozy all the time, not just in the mornings. I threw up maybe twice a day for a couple weeks, but the exhaustion was worse than the nausea.
I called in sick to work when I could, and when I couldn't I felt like a zombie. It was like having the flu, which is what I told my coworkers I was struggling with. My stomach was always in knots, my body hurt all over, and I always wanted to crawl back into bed.
Ben hovered over me, making me chicken broth and plain toast that I could barely keep down. I actually lost weight, I ate so little. I assured my son that I was fine, wanting him to focus on his final exams. But as spring passed he was on alert 24/7, doing everything he could to take care of me and the baby that was starting to grow in my womb.
I was still sick as a dog during Ben's finals, but by his graduation I started to feel better. I sat in the stands and cheered him on as he crossed the stage and collected his diploma, thrilled and emotional that my baby was all grown up, and guardedly excited about my new baby. I hugged him and cried, telling him how proud I was, that I was lucky to have him as my son, and between us, under my dress, my belly was starting to bulge.
My pregnancy was still a secret, but I was just about out of the first trimester and soon it'd be time to share my news. My bump was still easy to hide, especially as I'd been chunky to begin with, but it wouldn't stay that way for long. I came up with a cover story about a sperm bank, one that matched me with a donor that looked like my late husband. I worried about my news stealing the thunder of Ben's graduation, so I kept quiet. But with every day that passed, I grew more confident that I'd actually have this baby.
Ben went to a party after his graduation and I went home, remembering the night of his birthday. There would be no wine for me tonight, but I still spent some time reminiscing, thinking of how far my baby had come since he was little. It was less bittersweet this time with the knowledge that by Christmas I'd be a mom again. I imagined how I'd feel eighteen years from now, when my new baby was graduating high school, and it made my head spin.
When Ben got home I was on the couch watching TV, eating sour candy, wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants. Not dressed to seduce. "You're still up!" he smiled as he came into the living room. It wasn't that late, but it'd been weeks since he'd seen me conscious past eight PM or so.
"How was the party?" I asked, patting the spot on the couch beside me. He sat down.
"Pretty fun," he said. "You seem good!"
"Yeah, I'm feeling alright for once," I told him. "Knock on wood, but the worst might be behind me."
"Good," he breathed. "I was worried about you."
I nodded, popping more candy in my mouth. "My appetite's back too."
Ben grabbed some of the candy. "What is this?" He made a face as he chewed.
I laughed. "Normally I can't stand this stuff, but I had to stop and get some on my way home."
"Cravings, huh?" he said. "I didn't know if that was a real thing."
"When I was pregnant with you all I wanted was salt. Chips and pretzels and stuff," I smiled. "I guess this baby wants sour." My hand went to my stomach, and Ben watched.
"Sometimes I think your stomach is growing, but it's hard to tell," he said. My t-shirt wasn't exactly form-fitting, and I'd been making an effort to hide my body for a while. It might have been hard to see if my belly was growing, but my breasts were up a cup size and it seemed obvious to me. Ben hadn't seen me naked in months; I'd felt too ill.
"It's definitely growing," I said, and I pulled up my shirt. When I was sitting, though, my stomach bunched up; all you could see were fat rolls. "Here, let me show you." I got to my feet, turning to face Ben where he sat on the couch. I held my t-shirt up under my breasts and turned back and forth, showing off: from this angle, you could see I was developing a definite bulge, at least if you were already familiar with the size and shape of my body. "What do you think? Am I showing? Or just fat?"
"You're showing," Ben said, a note of awe in his voice. He'd been so preoccupied with how sick I was the last few months, not to mention his exams and his graduation, that the actual baby had been on the back of his mind. Like the pregnancy was still theoretical. But now there was proof.
"If you touch it you can really tell," I told him, and he put his palm on the top of my stomach, above my bellybutton. "No, down here." I guided his hand down to where my uterus was swelling, way down at the bottom of my tummy, toward my pubic mound. Pressing our hands through the soft chubby layer, it was clear there was something firm and swelling underneath.
"Wow," Ben whispered. His hand left mine and felt around, exploring the way my shape was changing. "That's our baby."
I smiled ear to ear. "It's really happening."
Ben leaned in and kissed my little bump. I felt all warm inside and I ran my fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry I've been so out of it the last few months."
"I'm sorry it's been so hard for you," he responded. "It wasn't this bad when you had me, right?"
"No," I said. "But that was a million years ago. I knew this wasn't going to be easy, and I'll do whatever it takes for this baby." I stroked my little bump lovingly.
"I'm just glad you're feeling better," Ben said.
"I think the second trimester's gonna be the best," I told him. "I won't be sick anymore, but I won't be too big to move. And it might be fun for you too."
"Why's that?" he asked, putting his hands over mine.
I blushed. "That's when my hormones really got going last time. I think the same thing might be happening."
"Oh," he said, taking a second to get what I was saying. I stroked his shoulders, my swelling breasts hanging over his head.
"If you've changed your mind about wanting to continue making love, that's fine," I told him. "But I just want you to know I'm still interested. And I'm finally feeling up for it, if you'd like to go upstairs."
Ben looked up and met my eyes. "How about we stay here?" I shook my head. We'd never made love anywhere but my bedroom, and I felt exposed here in the living room. But Ben's hands were on my stomach again, and then they moved up, under my t-shirt, and cupped my breasts. I gasped. I saw a smirk on Ben's face as he held my boobs. "They're getting bigger too, aren't they?"
I nodded, biting my lip. "Do you want to see them?" Ben just groaned in response. I took a step back and glanced around; it was dark out and I didn't think anyone could see in our windows but I turned off the light just to be sure. The time since we'd done this last and the new location made this feel fresh again: naughty and exciting.
I pulled the t-shirt off and stood half-naked in front of Ben, giggling when his eyes went wide at my swollen breasts. They still hung low but they'd plumped up and gotten heavy, and my nipples were a shade darker.
He tried to get up from where he was sitting and I got the urge to shove him back down by his shoulders. I climbed onto the couch and straddled him, my mouth against his. He was shocked.
"Hormones, huh?" he asked when I moved to kiss his neck.
"Yeah," I murmured.
"I like them." He squeezed my butt as we kissed. I straightened up and pressed his face into my chest, burying him between my breasts. He groaned and moved his hands, squeezing my boobs together and kissing and licking between them. I groaned; they were still quite tender but the attention felt amazing. I threw my head back, holding onto his shoulders.
"Can you suck them?" I asked, feeling filthy. He didn't need to be asked twice. He closed his mouth around the nearest nipple and sucked gently, his tongue teasing the sensitive nub as I panted and grunted. He switched sides, hefting my breast up to his mouth, and I began to writhe on top of him, my desire growing and growing.
I'd almost forgotten how my sex drive had changed when I was pregnant with Ben, at least during those middle months. There were ups and downs, and some days I'd fiercely wanted not to be touched, but when I was feeling it I'd tear Ben's dad's clothes off. I wondered if it'd be the same this time, or if I was just having one good day after all that sickness.
For now, it didn't matter. I had a hot mouth on my nipple, and there was a fire between my legs. I got off Ben and could see the bulge in his pants as he smiled up at me, out of breath. I tugged down my sweatpants and panties, leaving myself naked in front of him. "Take your clothes off," I told him in my best serious Mom voice.
He did so quickly, getting rid of first his shirt, then his pants and underwear. He was hard and ready and I pushed him back into the couch again, climbing on top. My growing belly pressed into his stomach as I mounted him, reaching down and moving him to the right place. Ben cried out as I slipped him inside.
"Oh God, I missed this," I panted, beginning to rock back and forth on top of him.
"Me too," he groaned, moving his hips, stabbing up into me. I grabbed his hands and put them back on my breasts. Our lovemaking had been functional at first, then sweet and loving, but now I was really hot for him. The thought that he had put a baby in me was driving me nuts.
I leaned back as I rode, sliding one hand down my little belly and finding my clit. I played with it as I bounced, and it seemed to excite Ben. I grunted and gasped with pleasure, feeling him fill me up as I rubbed myself.
I went faster, trying to get him deeper. "Move with me, baby," I told him, and Ben did his best. He held my shoulder, his other hand kneading my breast, playing with my nipple. He bounced me up and down in his lap. His breathing got heavier, his movements got jerkier, and I knew he was getting close. I rubbed my clit furiously, the pressure building. I was close too.
"Are you gonna come?" I asked, and he nodded furiously, grunting in assent. "Good. Do it," I instructed, and started bouncing as fast and as hard as I could. It took just a few moments before he was gasping, his head rolling around on his neck, pleasure overtaking him.
His hands clamped down on me as he came, squeezing my shoulder and breast too hard, but I didn't care. Seeing him go over the edge, and feeling him buck and shoot his sperm into me, brought on my own orgasm. I let out a low, loud moan that built and built until my throat was raw and I collapsed onto Ben, my body feeling boneless and jiggly.
He held me up and we panted together, his hardness still buried inside me, until we'd both caught our breath. Then we kissed.
"Oh my God," he exhaled. "That was... something else."
"Yeah," I said. "I think we're going to have a lot of fun this summer."
------X------
I was right; my son and I did have a lot of fun that summer. As I left my difficult first trimester behind, I felt pretty good, no longer so fatigued and sick all the time. I did develop some nasty heartburn that didn't go away until after the baby came, but I had energy, I had something to be excited about, and I had a good man to share it with.
I shared my news with my friends and my coworkers, using my sperm bank story. I expected invasive questions about where this baby came from and whether I was too old to be doing this all over again, but everyone seemed overjoyed for me. I remembered how nicely people treated pregnant women. As my belly grew past my breasts and I bought my first maternity clothes in two decades, strangers held doors for me, smiled at me. I felt special. That was part of what I wanted for all those years, yearning for another baby.
I no longer felt unseen or self-conscious, thinking of myself as an old woman with bags under her eyes and a shock of gray in her hair. I was pregnant and radiantly happy, and people could tell. My appetite returned and I ate well, with Ben always willing to pick up takeout for me, try his best to cook, and keep me stocked with sour Skittles.
I gained weight all over, not just my belly and boobs, but my hips, my thighs, even my face, but I didn't mind. I was proud and full of life. Ben helped me feel that way. Beautiful, even, on good days. I hadn't thought I wanted a man around, a partner, until suddenly I had one again.
He was there for me when I was cranky and hungry and needed a snack. He was there for me when I got emotional thinking about my new baby, or worried that I was too old to be a new mom again, or sad that Ben's father wasn't here to see this. He went shopping with me, picking out baby clothes and furniture for his dorm room at the same time. Whatever I needed, I knew Ben was always just a phone call away.
And yes, sometimes what I needed was sex. My libido had dropped in the years I didn't have a partner, but now that I had one who was loving and attentive I couldn't get enough. My hormones were wild and unpredictable. We made love as often as when we were trying to conceive, if not more. We tried new things, no longer confining ourselves to quick nighttime romps in my bed.
One afternoon I came into Ben's room while he was sitting in bed working on his computer, and while we chatted I felt him staring at my chest. He blushed when I caught him, but I wasn't mad. Forgetting what I'd come in to ask him about, I took his computer away, climbed in bed with him, and before long he was naked on top of me. It was thrilling and naughty doing it in his bedroom, his little bed rocking and squeaking beneath his shelves of action figures and sports trophies.
Another day Ben made a move on me after helping put the groceries away, but I told him I was too sweaty and gross after the shopping trip and needed a shower. The way his face lit up when I told him he could join me made me remember him as a kid on Christmas morning.
Under the steamy water in the master bathroom he carefully washed every inch of my growing body, from my ever-swelling breasts to the unruly hair between my legs to my bellybutton, which was getting shallow as my uterus expanded. The whole time his insistent hardness pressed into me, sliding around my slippery skin. He asked to put it in me and I told him shower sex was usually a recipe for disaster, then I took him back to my bed.
On one memorable day, something got into my head while I was at work and wouldn't leave. I was, without warning, too hot and bothered to look at my computer anymore. I went to the bathroom and texted Ben to see if he was around. He was, thankfully, and I asked him to meet me at home, making sure to assure the nervous boy that everything was just fine.
I told my boss I wasn't feeling well and drove home, feeling reckless, a burning need growing in me as surely as the baby was. Ben was waiting for me in the kitchen and I ordered him upstairs in my Mom-means-business voice.
"Mom, is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?" Ben asked as I closed my bedroom door. I was still dressed for work, in a maternity blouse that clung to my bump and breasts, a black skirt that went down to my knees, and pantyhose. Very different from the cozy, pajamalike clothes I usually wore around the house.
I said nothing. Instead I carefully set my glasses on the bedside table, took Ben by the shoulders, and knelt. I looked up and met his eyes; he was still confused but it was dawning on him what was going on. By the time I undid his belt his eyes were wide with surprise.
Roughly, I tugged down his pants and underwear, and was face-to-face with his flaccid penis. We'd been making love for months but had never used our mouths on each other, and had actually talked about how it felt a little out of bounds for us. But this was what I needed, and while Ben seemed shocked, he grew quickly in my hands.
When I planted a kiss on his tip, he groaned, and I felt his shaft twitch. Later, I felt guilty, and made him assure me I hadn't done anything he wasn't comfortable with. But in the moment, I didn't say a word. I felt a fire raging inside me as I ran my tongue along the underside of Ben's penis, one hand holding it in place, the other on his hip.
I looked up again, my eyes finding his. He was panting with excitement, his chest rising and falling under his t-shirt. I took him into my mouth and his eyes closed. I sucked gently, savoring his hardness, my heart pounding. I was as surprised as Ben was to find his penis in my mouth; I'd just planned on asking him for sex when I got home but my hormones had other plans. I couldn't remember the last time I sucked a dick. I worried I wouldn't know how anymore.
But it came back to me like riding a bike. I grasped the root of Ben's penis while I bobbed my head up and down, sliding him in and out, getting him nice and slick and wet. I tasted his sweat and the pre-ejaculate that leaked from his tip. Down beneath my growing belly, I was on fire. I knew my panties were soaked. When was the last time I'd been this turned on?
As I built up speed and Ben gasped and groaned and grasped the sides of my head, I no longer felt like a boring fortysomething mom. I felt young and exciting and sexy, doing a great job of pleasuring my teenage lover. I was virile and youthful, a baby growing in my belly, my breasts swollen, my mouth full of a young man. His bristly hair tickled my nose and his shaft twitched against my tongue and I couldn't get enough.
It didn't take long. Ben's grunts became fast and urgent, and I could feel him tugging his hips away, trying to warn me. "Mom, I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."
"Mmm-hmmm," I murmured, my mouth full. I used my hand to jerk him as I bobbed my head faster and sucked harder, and in an instant he was muffling a scream as he finished. Hot salty seed flooded my mouth, spurt after spurt, and to my surprise I swallowed it.
I wasn't in control anymore. The estrogen and progesterone surging through my system were. I swallowed it all down and kept sucking until Ben pushed my head away, too sensitive now. He and I gasped for air after he popped out of my mouth, a dribble of seed landing on my maternity blouse. We just stared at each other, red in the face.
"Help me up," I told him, feeling 41 again as I became aware of aches in my knees and back. I laid down on the bed and put my hand down my skirt while Ben watched, looking dazed. It only took me a moment to ride my hormonal excitement to a powerful, toe-curling orgasm, but what I'd done with my mouth had been the main event.
I stared at the young man in front of me as I came, watching his softening penis, knowing I'd put him in that daze of pleasure. I still felt that power when he flopped down in bed beside me and I kissed him on the cheek. "Wow," he panted. "Hormones?"
I laughed. It was a running joke between us at that point. But I still felt embarrassed, even though Ben didn't seem to mind. We didn't talk about what had happened, and it didn't happen again.
Maybe it was inevitable that my feelings towards Ben would change. We were bonding, having a baby together, making passionate love several times a week. I had thought we could keep the two parts of our lives separate, but I realized I was falling in love with him.
I kept that feeling to myself, expressing it in the bedroom, not wanting to put my son in a strange position. Being in love with him felt much stranger and more serious than having sex with him. But as the summer wore on and our baby grew and grew, I started to really dread him leaving to go to school.
It was a muggy morning in mid-July when Ben drove me to my OB/GYN. I'd told him about the nervous excitement I had for my anatomy scan, and he'd asked if he could come along. I'd had many appointments, bringing home blurry ultrasound printouts for Ben, but this was a big one.
We'd see the baby's gender, and more importantly the doctor would check for any irregularities or birth defects. I'd been up at night worrying that something might be wrong with the baby, because of my age or because Ben was my son. I'd prayed for this child for so long, and now I worried that I'd been irresponsible and I wouldn't get what I wanted after all. Ben had comforted me on my sleepless nights, assuring me that no matter what happened he'd be there for me, and that had only made me fall deeper in love.
At 18 weeks I was almost halfway there, and my belly was small but obvious. I wore a new pink maternity blouse, my way of keeping my fingers crossed for a girl, and Ben told me I looked cute. But I felt like a gross ball of nerves as he drove, my hands clasped over my tummy, wishing I could fast-forward time. Ben took the turns slowly, knowing my stomach was in knots. But soon we were pulling into a parking spot. He looked over at me.
"Mom, are you ready?"
I nodded, but I didn't feel ready. Ben took my hand. "It's gonna be okay. I promise. The baby is fine, look at how much you've been growing!"
I let out a nervous laugh. "Is that your way of saying I'm getting really fat really fast?" I looked down at my changing body.
"You know it's not," Ben said, squeezing my hand. "You look great. The baby's going to be healthy, and it's going to be a girl. I'll be right there with you the whole time. It's exciting, isn't it?"
Again I felt like Ben was the parent and I was the kid, and while I felt proud I also felt sad about the position I put him in. I tried to get myself together. "It's exciting. We get to see the baby. We get to figure out how we're going to decorate that nursery."
Ben smiled and led me inside. I got checked in and we sat in the waiting room, among other sets of expectant parents. I felt old, compared to the women in their twenties and thirties, but my fellow moms-to-be smiled at me. And at Ben, I thought. A good kid, there to support his mom. We waited for nearly an hour, running over my appointment time, my nerves getting extra time to do their worst. Finally, my name was called. Ben helped me out of my seat.
The nurse led me back to an exam room, where Ben watched as she took my vitals and weighed me. I blushed when I saw how many pounds I'd put on in the two weeks since my last appointment. Then the nurse was gone and I sat on the exam table waiting for the doctor. Ben sat in a chair by the door. "It's gonna be okay," he smiled.
I tried to return the smile. "I love you," I whispered.
"I love you too," he whispered back.
When the doctor arrived she could sense my anxiety, and tried to put me at ease. Ben waited while we talked. I thought he might have questions of his own but he just listened as we went through my symptoms, my growth, my worries. She had me lay back and lift up my blouse, exposing my pale, rounded little tummy.
I saw Ben smile when I revealed it. He'd done a lot of loving on that belly since it started to grow, rubbing it and kissing it and talking to it, and he told me it was really cute. I warned him about what I'd look like at nine months and it didn't faze him. The doctor rubbed cold gel onto my skin and fired up the ultrasound.
I was still nervous. Ben stood up and held my hand. I worried about that, thinking he looked too much like an anxious dad-to-be, but my doctor smiled. "Your mom's lucky to have you," she said, and Ben blushed. I squeezed his hand as the blurry image on the monitor resolved into a picture of my womb.
Ben gasped when the doctor panned around and found the baby's profile. He'd been looking at inkblot-like ultrasound photos for months, playing along and pretending he could tell what was a foot and what was the head, but now the baby really looked like a baby. We could see the face, the nose, the cheeks. The arms and legs, moving around.
I bet the baby felt my racing heart. I had felt little flutters here and there that might have been kicks and might have been gas; the doctor had told me it was probably too early but every pregnancy was different. I could feel that very light fluttering now, as I watched my new baby's movements onscreen, and tears dripped down my cheeks.
For the next twenty minutes the doctor did a careful scan, showing off different parts of the baby, making measurements, snapping stills to print off for me. One by one she checked off my concerns. The heart was fully formed and pumping hard. The brain was normal. All the organs were present and where they needed to be. Nothing up with the spine. No cleft lip. The cord was in the right place and my fluid levels were good.
I held it together until the doctor's final verdict. "Everything's looking fine. You have a big, healthy baby who's growing right on schedule." I started full-on sobbing, Ben holding my hand, my stomach rising and falling with my halting breaths. Relief flooded my body, weeks of worry dissipating.
When I finally collected myself a bit, the doctor held up the ultrasound wand. "Would you like to see the gender?" I looked to Ben. His eyes were rimmed with tears too. I wondered how much he'd been worrying, how much he hadn't told me while he was busy comforting me. "What do you say, Ben?" she continued. "Want to know if you have a brother or sister?"
"Yeah!" Ben said, and the doctor returned the wand to my belly. After a little searching, she got an angle between the baby's legs.
"You see that?" the doctor asked. "Ben, you have a baby brother."
I started blubbering all over again. It was too much. Ben took charge and got us out of the doctor's office, collecting the ultrasound printouts and even scheduling my next appointment. When we were back in the car he held me while I cried.
I was bummed out for a couple weeks, actually. I told Ben over and over that I knew it was silly: I should have just been happy that my baby was healthy, but I had really wanted a daughter after all these years and now I felt like I'd never get one.
I hadn't even thought of trying for another baby after this, but Ben told me we could if I wanted to. This pregnancy had been unlikely enough, though, and I didn't feel like pushing my luck any further. Ben was sweet, hearing me out, being there for me through my funk.
It wasn't until I hit the official halfway mark, 20 weeks, at the beginning of August that things changed. That's when, as I was drifting off to sleep, I felt a distinctive flutter from inside my stomach. I had forgotten what it really felt like after all these years, but it was unmistakable. My baby was moving.
I held my breath and waited until I felt it again. I held my belly in the dark. "Hello there," I whispered to the baby I'd wanted for nearly twenty years.
I called out for Ben. We didn't sleep in the same bed unless we'd made love that night, but he'd been sleeping lightly, always ready to come if I needed something. He was in my room instantly, worry on his face.
"What's up, Mom? Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," I smiled, my voice an awed whisper. "He's kicking."
The worry left Ben's face. "Really?" he asked, getting in bed beside me, adopting the same hushed tones. His movements were careful, as if he'd scare the baby. His hand joined mine, feeling my tummy through my nightgown.
"You won't be able to feel it yet, but he's definitely moving around in there." I was teary-eyed. I felt like Ben must be sick of seeing me cry; it seemed like I'd been crying for months. But he didn't mind. He kissed my cheek as he felt around my stomach, trying in vain to feel the movement.
"That's amazing," he said. "What does it feel like?"
"It's just a little flutter now," I told him. "The kicks are really small and cute at first. But by month eight he'll be hurting me, if you were any indication."
He laughed. "How long until I can feel?"
"A couple weeks or so," I said. "I wish you could now. It's the most amazing feeling." The twitch had died down, but we laid there for a few moments, cuddled up next to each other. "Thank you," I told Ben quietly.
"For what?"
"For giving me this baby. I know I've been out of sorts the last few weeks but I'm really happy."
"Good," Ben said, holding me closer. "That's all I want."
"I've got a healthy baby on the way and a good man," I said, running my fingers through his hair. "What more could I ask for?" I kissed him on the lips. He kissed me back. We made out gently for what must have been twenty minutes, taking in the awe of the moment. I tried not to think about how I only had a month left with Ben at home, but that made moments like these all the more precious.
Ben took off the t-shirt and boxers he'd been sleeping in, and carefully removed my nightgown. I watched him look at my new body, softer, rounder, my belly getting quite prominent. He was still as excited as he'd been that first night, when I let him undo my robe. He kissed my bump all over, then moved up to my breasts.
I made joyful little sounds as he loved on me. I watched as my nipples hardened and my areolas wrinkled, responding to my son's touch. From my breasts, he traveled up to my neck, trailing little kisses, and when he was close enough to my ear he asked me: "is it still okay for me to be on top?"
I grinned. "I think so. You better do it while you still can."
He smiled back and kissed my lips. "If it's uncomfortable just tell me." He climbed on top of me like he did that very first night, his birthday, and eased himself into me. I gasped with pleasure. I felt stretched out, like I was getting tighter. I was more sensitive, and maybe it was my imagination but I thought I could feel Ben's pulse inside me.
He made an effort not to rest his weight on my stomach; already I had grown enough that we didn't quite fit together the way we used to. "Is that okay?" he asked.
"It feels great," I gasped, looking up at him with love. The tenderness he showed towards me always made me melt. Tonight our lovemaking was slow and gentle. Ben took his time, thrusting in and out gradually, building a slow rhythm. He would pull himself all the way out, tease my opening with his tip, then inch himself back in, stretching me all over again. It drove me crazy.
We paused here and there to kiss, my belly slightly squished under his weight when he leaned to reach my lips. I stroked Ben's back and hips, and he played with my hair and my breasts. "I love you, Ben," I whispered. He was so handsome as he loomed over me. More of a man than he'd been six months ago. More like his father.
"I love you, Mom," he whispered back. I didn't know how much he knew. If he was aware of how deep my feelings went. "This is my man," I thought, gazing up at him, feeling the pressure in my womb as his child grew inside me. "I love him more than anything."
A few moments later it seemed that Ben could take no more teasing, no more gentle lovemaking. He picked up the pace, slamming his penis into me, wheezing with effort. His sweat dripped onto me, heavy with pheromones, man-stink. The muscles in his arms worked hard; veins appeared beneath his skin. He was a man. A man with his mate. My toes curled in pleasure as I thought that.
The headboard smacked the wall. My breasts flopped back and forth. Ben was trembling. I smiled up at him, encouraging him, and then we were grunting and gasping together as he erupted inside me.
It was a big orgasm for him. He yelled so loud it hurt my ears. His spittle hit my face. His whole body strained to bury his penis as deep inside me as possible. It was rare, very very rare, for me to come just from penetration, but watching my boy act like a man pushed me over the edge. As his hot seed pooled inside me I screamed too.
When he rolled off me I held him close for a long time. Saying nothing, we gasped for air, holding each other tight. I savored the feeling of his big strong body in my arms, his muscles overheated, his skin clammy with sweat. I never wanted to let him go.
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