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Corinth lay motionless and sobbing for a long time. Not that she was physically hurt, but the assault had left her weak and overwhelmed.

He had caught her at a completely vulnerable moment. She had struggled as he sought to penetrate her, but he was too young and strong and his need too powerful.

As she felt him gain entry, she gave up opposing him physically. She had appealed to him, "Please darling, you mustn't … you can't …you'll make me pregnant … please, don't…" But he persisted, and as she felt him spurting into her she submitted.

When he had finished, he lay inside her for a while, as if reluctant to separate from her. Neither of them spoke or moved. Then, he suddenly looked down at her, and seeing her tears, he gasped, withdrew from her, and with a gulping sob he grabbed his discarded shorts and fled from the room.

As she lay there, Corinth gradually gathered her thoughts, striving to understand and come to terms with what had happened. But initially she was still too confused, and only baffling questions arose.

"How have things reached this point?" How could she be raped by the last person she thought would commit such and assault on her? Was she somehow at fault? Why had she not known? What had she missed in their relationship, so loving and supportive of each other, not to have seen the sexual aspect developing? Or had she seen it and refused to acknowledge it?

Striving to get her mind in order, her thoughts went back to when he first showed signs of entering puberty. As his sexual needs had developed, had there been signs of his desire for her?

At that point in Francis life, she recalled, Steve, her husband, had callously announced that he was leaving them. "I'll make sure you're all right for money," he had told her (he could well afford it), and departed to join, as she later found out, his buxom new woman.

Francis had been shattered. At a point in his life, his father might have become especially important, that father had departed. Francis saw this, not so much as his father leaving his mother, but as a rejection of himself. His ensuing bitterness turned to a hatred for his father. He had refused to see him, speak to him on the telephone or answer his letters. He had turned to Corinth, and in the following years the mother-son relationship became ever more intense.

"Had it become too intense?" Corinth pondered. Obviously, it had. It would be easy to lay the blame for the assault at Francis' door, but was she partly at fault?

She recalled the times when Francis, putting his arms round her, had said things like, "If I was married to a beautiful woman like you, I'd never leave you."

Flattered, she had received these compliments in a coquettish, almost teasing manner, responding with, "I know you wouldn't darling," and similar rejoinders.

Francis was a very affection young man, and he frequently hugged her, and she recalled how often his hands had wandered near her breasts. She herself was a very tactile person, and enjoyed the body contact with a healthy, handsome young man, even though he was her son.

They had lived a very casual life-style around the house. They had not been averse to being only scantily clad, or even naked, in each other's presence. They wandered into each other's bedrooms or into the bathroom when one or the other was there, in a completely uninhibited manner.

Corinth had thought that seeing each other naked in this casual manner would make it a commonplace thing that would cease to have provocative sexual overtones. Or had this been her real reason? Had she in fact enjoyed – even rejoiced – in being able to view his strong, powerful body?

A pang of guilt speared through Corinth. Of course, she had seen his erections when he came upon her naked, and felt the throbbing in her clitoris as she thrilled to his arousal. These things she had pushed away deep down inside her. They lurked within her as unacknowledged feelings … nameless desires.

When Steve left her, she declared her sensual self to be a closed shop. In the following years there had been plenty of offers. Everything from one-night stands to marriage had been suggested.

She was thirty-seven when the break with Steve had come, and Francis was not wrong is seeing her as an attractive woman. Men had desired her, but she was not going to risk another relationship. The pain of Steve's desertion had been too great.

Despite the close bond between them, Francis had difficult teenage years. Folk wisdom claims that the teenage years are "The best years of your life." Such sayings take no account of those teenagers who find those years lonely and depressing.

Francis had been involved sexually with a number of girls, but none of these relationships had lasted. One relationship that had gone a bit longer than most was with a woman some twenty years older than Francis.

The woman lived in the same street as Corinth and Francis, and was a widow with two children. It had proved to be a bit of a scandal at the time, as neighbours, as well as Corinth, could not help noticing the frequency of Francis' visits to the lady.

The relationship had apparently ended about six months prior to this night of Francis' sexual assault on Corinth, and the widow now had an older man living with her.

Throughout these relationships, Francis had not ceased in his affectionate attachment to Corinth. If anything, he had become more persistent in his physical interaction with her. In addition, she knew he masturbated frequently, and this should have alerted her to the fact that for all his sexual relationships with women, he was not fulfilled.

His main activity outside his work, was attendance at the local gym. This had given him a strong and excellent body, and Corinth was very proud of his fine appearance, and was inclined to boast about it to anyone who would listen. It was also to prove the main element in her physical struggle against his assault.

Despite her renunciation of male relationships, Corinth had sexual needs. Like Francis, she masturbated frequently, but unlike Francis, she was more careful to keep this activity out of sight and sound of him. She was fairly sure that Francis knew nothing of her self-stimulation and release.

The thought of her masturbation recalled the immediate situation that led up to her being raped.

On the evening in question Francis had gone to the gym. This usually meant he would be away for at least a couple of hours. Just prior to leaving, he had come into the lounge to tell her he was going, and as usual, he was dressed in his gym clothes. These displayed his manhood rather forcefully and had the effect of arousing Corinth.

After he left, Corinth felt the need to relieve herself of sexual tension and removing her clothes, she lay on the couch, and began to masturbate. As usual, she tried to tell herself it was not Francis in her sexual reverie, but in truth, it was.

She had plenty of time so she was in no hurry to bring her self to a climax. She gently fondled her breasts as she slowly moved her fingers over her clitoris. She hung suspended in a beautiful daydream of tender sexual arousal. Her female sexual fluid began to soak her vagina, but she refused herself an orgasm, just teetering on the edge, drawing back each time she felt it beginning.

This withholding her self from orgasm was a mistake. Francis, on arriving at the gym, found it closed for maintenance work, so he returned home. He entered the house quietly, but in any case, Corinth was so lost in her sexual preoccupation she failed to hear what sounds he did make.

Francis came upon her lying on the couch, legs parted, her hips rotating slightly as she moved her fingers over her sexual organ, and giving out with low passionate moans. He stopped at the door, but this was in Corinth's line of vision. She saw him and froze. Her mind was in turmoil of embarrassment and shame. She simply lay there, one hand on her breast, the other in her vagina, unmoving.

Francis stood staring for a few moments, then came across the room to her crying out, "mother!" Corinth tried to speak, but no sound would come. She saw Francis' enormous erection as he removed his gym shorts and come down upon her. Her legs were still parted and she was soaked with her own self-stimulation.

Such was her state of mind that at first Corinth did not grasp what was happening. It was only as she felt the head of his penis push up against her opening that full realisation struck. She managed to pull back briefly, but as she tried to close her legs, it was too late. Francis had his body between them, forcing them further apart.

Now began the physical struggle that she was bound to lose. She might have torn at him with her nails, but somehow she could not bring herself to inflict such damage on her son. She pummeled him with her fists but this seemed to have no effect. The strength she had been so proud of was now her undoing. He was too strong for her.

As she felt his penis reach her opening once more, she changed from physical resistance to begging and pleading. She used no contraceptives, and certainly, Francis was not using anything. Although in her forties, she was still capable of getting pregnant – pregnant to her own son!

Her imploring him to stop had no effect. His need was too desperate now for him to even hear her. He slid into her warm moistness easily and thrust in deep. She felt his urgency, and realising there was nothing further she could do or say to stop the inevitable, she submitted to him.

Quickly he was filling her with his sperm.

Now it was over and Francis had fled the room. Corinth rose slowly from the couch and on trying to stand felt her legs shaking so that she dropped to her knees.

She knew Francis had possibly impregnated her, and because of the time she had spent deliberating over the why's and wherefore's of what had happened, she knew she should make some attempt to wash out his sperm in the vain hope of avoiding pregnancy. But something inside her did not want to get rid of his sperm. It was as if she wanted to hold it in – to love it.

Never the less, she made the effort and got to her feet and staggered to the bathroom to carry out the ablutions. When she had finished, she went in search of Francis. He was nowhere to be found. Not only had he fled the room, he had also left the house.

Corinth decided that he would stay out until he thought she was safely in bed asleep, and then creep in, thus delaying the recriminations, or worse, until the morning. Drained, she went to bed, lying there confused and wretched, alert for Francis's return.

Sleep came only fitfully and such as she had was full of bizarre dreams in which she was raped over and over again, and yet was strangely compliant.

She woke with a start from one of her dreams, and looking at the beside clock saw that it was already mid morning. She rose and slipped into her dressing gown. Her first thought was to find out if Francis had returned home. Going to his bedroom, she saw that his bed had not been slept in. She went over the rest of the house, and could find no sign he had come home.

As sometimes happens, in the course of her intermittent sleep, Corinth had somehow come to a more settled frame of mind about what had happened to her. True, Francis had raped her, but when you came right down to it, he had not really hurt her.

She had been thoroughly aroused by her masturbation so was wet and ready for penetration. He had slid into her easily. Further, she had to admit that in the end it was not that she did not want him to take her, but the fear of pregnancy that troubled her.

Now, putting that fear of future motherhood aside, she began a mother's anxiety about Francis and his absence. Was he so ashamed or disgusted with him self that he could not face her, or had he found her sexually repellant and no longer wanted to be in her physical presence?

Gradually, throughout the day, Corinth's anxiety over Francis' absence grew. Along with this anxiety, she increasingly found the courage to face the truth about her own feelings. Yes, it was more than mother love she felt for him. Yes, she did love him as a woman loves a man. Yes, it was Francis who filled her fantasies as she masturbated. Yes, if given the right approach she would have probably given herself voluntarily to him.


As she faced these thoughts and feelings, so her distress at Francis' absence grew. The thought that he might have fled for good was agony. He had to return so they could talk and discover where their relationship stood and how it might develop. The thought that he might never return brought down a veil of dark despair over her. She would be alone and without what she now admitted, was the one true object of her love and passion.

Perhaps Francis was out there somewhere, carrying the full burden of guilt for a combination of rape and incest. Corinth knew that the guilt was not his alone. However wrong his actions had been, she did have some share in that guilt.

Unable to eat or go about her daily routine, she waited until late afternoon before she began to make enquiries at places he might have fled to. The gym and his friends had seen or heard nothing of him. She hesitated to call the police because, firstly, Francis was nineteen and, after all, he had been gone less than a day. Secondly, if the police questioned her too closely, what could she say? "My son raped me and ran away?" She thought about going out in search of him, but did not know where to start looking. She would have to wait.

At around eleven o'clock Corinth gave up her troubled waiting and went to bed, leaving the bedroom door open so she might hear if Francis came back. Emotionally and physically exhausted she slid into uneasy sleep, to be awakened about an hour later by a noise.

She leapt out of bed and went straight to Francis' room. He was not there, but a further noise sent her in the direction of the kitchen. Francis was there, fumbling around in the dark, trying to find something to eat.

Corinth switched on the light, and for a moment, Francis stood there blinking in the sudden glare. In her relief at seeing him Corinth burst out, "Where the hell have you been? I've been worried out of my mind about you. Didn't you give any thought to how I might be feeling?"

Francis had grabbed his gym shorts when he had fled the house, and now stood a picture of misery, dirty and unshaven, clad only in the shorts and a T-shirt.

He tried to speak, but all he managed to get out was, "Mother, I'm so ashamed…" before Corinth opened up again.

"I suppose you've had nothing to eat? And look at the state you're in. You'd better sit down and I'll get you something, and then you can clean yourself up."

Francis tried again as Corinth began getting food ready for him. "Mother, about what I did to you…" Corinth, the anxious mother, crashed in again. "Never mind about that now, we can talk about it after you've eaten and had a shower. What I want to know is, where have you been?"

There was in fact little to tell. Francis had wandered around hardly noticing where he went, and sleeping, or rather, trying to sleep in a park. Ashamed at what he had done, and fearful of the consequences that might arise out of a combined rape and incestuous assault, hunger had finally driven him home.

He ate the food Corinth had prepared, and when he finished, Corinth said, "After you've cleaned up, you'd better come to my room and we'll talk. That is, if you feel up to it. If not, we can talk in the morning."

"The sooner I say what I've got the say, the better," replied Francis, and he went off to shower." Corinth cleared away the remains of the food and went back to bed.

As she lay there, she tried to think how to approach the coming talk. Should she simply berate Francis for taking her by force? Should she be gentle and understanding of his need for her? Should she admit her own guilt in having aroused him so many times by being nude or scantily clad in her presence? Most difficult of all, should she admit to a sexual desire for him?

As it turned out, it was Francis who took the verbal initiative. Entering her room he began straightaway and spoke as if he had rehearsed what he wanted to say many times, which of course he had.

"Mother, I'm so ashamed at what I did to you. It was finding you doing … doing what you were doing that made me give way. I would never have done anything, I really wouldn't, but seeing you so … so er … so steamed up, I just went off my head. Is it possible you could forgive me?"

"Did it occur to you that you might make me pregnant?" Corinth asked sharply. "And if I am pregnant will you accept responsibility as the child's father? Did you give one thought to the consequences of what you did? What about the danger to me? Do you know how dangerous it can be for a woman my age to bear a child?

Francis stood a picture of abject misery. "I didn't think," he mumbled brokenly. "I just wanted you so badly … I've always wanted you … and you were lying there looking so beautiful … I just…. If you are pregnant, I'll take responsibility… I'll look after you and the baby…." His voice trailed off into mournful silence.

His misery melted Corinth. She decided he had been scolded enough. She lay silently looking at him for a minute, then finally deciding she beckoned him to come and sit on the bed. He came hesitantly.

"Darling," she began, "it's not all your fault. I've been thinking, and I realise now how thoughtless I've been."

Francis tried to interrupt, protesting, but Corinth cut across him.

I knew it aroused you, yet I still did it. "

"You mean you could see…?" Francis gasped.

"Yes, I could see your erections, and I confess that it even pleased me to know you could be sexually aroused by me. You see, I was totally inconsiderate as to the frustration and pain I caused you."

"But that's no excuse for rape, is it?" Francis murmured.

"No, it isn't, darling," Corinth continued, "but at least it helps us to understand that the fault is not all on one side. So let's stop talking about whose fault it is, and try to find out how we can live together in future."

Francis stared at her for a moment in apparent disbelief, then said, "I thought you'd want me to clear out and never see you again. I thought…"

"You thought wrong," Corinth responded quickly.

As she spoke, Corinth realised that all she was wearing was a very flimsy, see through nightdress. She wondered if she had done this deliberately in the hope that just this situation would arise.

She tried to adjust the bedclothes to conceal her breasts, but the very act of doing this drew Francis' attention to them. After showering and shaving, he had put only a clean pair of shorts, and Corinth could see his swelling organ pushing against the cloth.

"Well at least he wasn't repelled by my body," she thought, "obviously he still wants me. Will he try to rape me again?" She thought not, which seemed to leave the initiative for the next move with her.

They were silent for some time, and Corinth, battling with her conflicting thoughts and emotions, finally came to a firm decision and launched out boldly.

"Listen, my love," I've got another confession to make to you. When I see you getting erections, I am stirred up too. Like now."

There was another pause as they looked straight into each other's eyes. Corinth felt a wave of dread pass through her. Had she been too open? Would he be repelled by her forthright declaration of her desire for him? Would she now lose him completely?

Francis broke the silence, speaking very quietly. "You mean, you want me, sexually?" "Even though I'm your son, you wanted me to f…have sex with you?"

At this, Corinth felt her self pushed on to the defensive. "You wanted your mother, so why should your mother not want you. I have feelings too, you know."

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