The Blind Struggle

My face felt warm as I started to wake from a groggy sleep. I fluttered my eyes open, then closed them immediately as the sunlight penetrated my retinas. I lay there trying to make sense out of the knot of emotions in my head. I had a headache. I prayed silently that my night had been a fever dream.

Carefully, I reached out my hand to feel around my bed. My fingers touched something hard, and I realized it was my laptop, still lying next to me. But my son, Adam, was not in my bed.

I forced my eyes open again and sat up, blinking. I looked around the room. Images danced through my mind. Images of my son lying beneath me while my hips ground against him. Along with those images came a dull physical sensation between my legs.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was lying to myself. Those images were too real. They were too vivid not to be true. I had just had sex with my own son. Worse still, I had let him come inside me. What if I got pregnant? The thought terrified me.

The thought of being pregnant brought forth some other images. Images I had buried. It wasn’t all that long ago that I had been pregnant. But nobody knew about it, except my doctor. I had kept it hidden from everyone.

After my husband had moved to China almost two years ago, I had gone through a long period of loneliness. After a year, I finally agreed to go out with a guy from work. His name was Mark. We had had sex on our first date. Something about the guy didn’t sit well with me, and I never pursued anything further with him.

Unfortunately, it only takes one night to get pregnant. I knew it two days after my first missed period. But, fortunately or not—depending on your viewpoint— I miscarried three months later. It was a traumatic experience for me, but in the end I was thankful. I wasn’t ready to be a mom again, let alone a single mom. My life would have been on hold for another eighteen years. It had already been hard enough raising my son by myself the past two years, since his father had moved to China.

I shook my head, pulling myself into the present. I looked around my bedroom. I needed a sign to know for certain what had happened last night. I pulled the covers away and remembered that I had slept naked. I slid out of bed and started walking toward my bathroom. I froze as I saw something lying on the floor.

It was Adam’s underwear.

I sighed. Inside, my stomach was knotted up. It had happened. I checked the time and saw that I was going to be late for work if I didn’t hurry. Fortunately, that also meant Adam was most likely gone for the day already. I didn’t think I could face him just yet.

My day at work was extremely unproductive. It wasn’t that I didn’t have things to do. I just couldn’t concentrate. One image haunted me more than any other. The image of my son’s face contorted in ecstasy as he climaxed beneath me. I remember wanting it. Wanting him. I wanted him to come inside me.

That didn’t make a lot of sense to me. I started playing through scenarios where I was pregnant. I had heard some doctor on a talk show one time explain how women have a carnal desire to become impregnated at different points in their life. But did that really explain what had happened between Adam and I last night?

To me, it seemed more likely that I was just horny. And buzzed. But I had never let my inhibitions drop so low in my life. To bed my own son? That was blasphemy in any social circle I had ever been a member of. It was the ultimate taboo. It was so taboo that people didn’t even talk about it. It was just something you didn’t do.

I sighed again, somehow making it through the day. When I got home that night, I headed straight to my bedroom and locked the door. I wasn’t even hungry. I didn’t see Adam on my way through the apartment. I didn’t even know if he was home yet. I lay in bed for hours before I finally fell asleep. I was basically living a nightmare. I didn’t know how to confront Adam.

After a night of restless sleep, I finally made myself get up. I checked the clock and saw that it was 5:30am. I quietly made my way to the kitchen. My stomach was growling, so I grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and made a cup of coffee with my instant coffee machine.

I was planning to take the coffee back to my bedroom and drink it there. Just as the cup finished brewing, I heard Adam’s door open and close. I froze. Fuck. I heard him walking down the hall. The only way to get to my own bedroom was to walk right in front of him. I was paralyzed, though.

I heard him walk into the kitchen behind me. I didn’t turn around. I started stirring my coffee even though I didn’t need to. I could hear him breathing. Damnit, I could hear him breathing!

“Mom?” he called quietly.

My hands were shaking as I picked up my coffee and took a sip. It was hot. I didn’t want to answer him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Morning,” I finally mumbled.

“Uh, can we talk?” he asked, sounding upset.

I sighed, setting the coffee cup back down. Without turning, I answered, “I guess.”

I heard him scrub his fingers through his hair. He always did that when he was nervous. My heart started to reach out for him. He was my baby boy. I hated that he was feeling so uncomfortable. I had to force (literally) my own emotions into check so I could turn to face him. When I did, I saw something completely different than I expected.

Adam was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. I noticed the muscles on his forearms right away. His hair was messy from sleep. But all of that I’d seen before. What caught me off guard was the emotion on his face. He looked… pained. Like he’d been crying. A lot. I don’t know that I had ever seen him like that before. My heart melted.

“Ok, let’s talk,” I said, trying to start our conversation.

He scrubbed his hand through his hair, looking away from me. Then he said, “Are you upset with me?”

I started to nod, but stopped myself. I had to college my face to keep it straight. I realized that I was upset with him. But it was myself who I should be upset with. I tried not to let any of that show. I thought about my answer and then said, “I guess not.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was gone in a second. Then he said, “But you’re upset about what happened.”

I nodded that time.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“It was my fault,” I answered.

“That’s not entirely true,” he said.

“Fine. It was both of our faults,” I said.

He shrugged, looking everywhere but at me. I can’t explain the feeling that erupted inside me that almost made me walk over to him and hug him. I felt like I had hurt him in ways that a mother should never hurt her son. I felt like I had betrayed him somehow. And most importantly, I felt like I had committed irreversible damage to our relationship.

“Mom?” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?” I said.

He paused for a long time, and then asked, “What do we do now?”

I stared at the ceiling as I composed my answer. Actually, my answer was already ready. I just had to compose myself to be able to deliver it. It’s hard to explain the emotions that were raging through me right then. It felt like a three sided war was happening inside of me. One side of the battle was fascinated with my experience with my son. Some unexpected physical sensations were creeping up inside my body that I had to forcibly send away.

Another side of the battle was appalled at my actions and made me feel sick to my stomach. And the third side was terrified of hurting Adam’s feelings. Yet I had to tell him it was over. I had to tell him there was nothing to do about it except forget about it.

The war raged inside me as I tried to say something to him. My chest started to feel tight. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I realized suddenly that I was crying. How did I get on the floor? Adam was there seconds later, his arms keeping me from falling flat on my face.

“Mom!” he yelled.

I looked up at him just as the pressure in my chest started to dissipate. Oh fuck. I looked down and felt myself starting to panic. My breasts were swollen. That was the pressure I was feeling. Not a heart attack. I felt relieved and embarrassed at the same time. Not again! I wanted to cry.

“Mom, what’s happening?” Adam’s voice sounded stressed.

The pressure started to grow again. It started to hurt. I wrapped one of my arms in front of my breasts, pressing against them. That made it hurt more. It wasn’t a lot of pain, but it was definitely uncomfortable.

“Mom??” he sounded more urgent.

I finally answered him, “It’s my fucking breasts again.” I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.

Adam looked down at my chest and I saw his eyes grow wide. When I looked down again, I saw that they were considerably larger. I was glad I wasn’t wearing a bra or it would have pinched horribly.

Adam continued to hold me as he said, “You want to go see a doctor?”

Tears streamed down my face. I hated doctors. But I was worried there was something wrong with me. I nodded at Adam and he stood up, pulling me with him. I put a hand on the counter to balance myself while he went to change into different clothes.

A few minutes later, my son was helping me into a cab outside our apartment. He told the driver where to go and then put his attention back on me. I felt embarrassed. I should have told him to stay home. I didn’t need help to get to the doctor. But it was too late.

So I sat in the back seat of a cab while my son stared at my swollen breasts. Oh, he didn’t seem to be staring out of lust. He had concern on his face. But the entire trip was spent with inappropriate images floating through my mind. I got a visual of Adam’s naked chest and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to push it away. Meanwhile, my breasts were throbbing.

Within an hour, we arrived at my doctor’s office. Thankfully, Adam didn’t try to come into the exam room with me. A nurse saw me first, asking me a barrage of questions. Then the doctor came in and examined me himself. After an agonizing—not to mention embarrassing—fifteen minutes, he had a diagnosis for me.

“You were right. Your breasts are full of milk,” he explained.

I nodded impatiently, “But how?”

“It’s basically this. You miscarried a baby six months ago. But your body doesn’t realize it. Do you know that your original due date for your last pregnancy was two weeks ago?” the doctor was very patient as he spoke to me.

My mouth was hanging open. Of course! It made total sense. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t already thought of it. I was supposed to be a mother again right now. So my breasts were just doing what they were supposed to do. Somehow, the explanation seemed to ease the pain in my chest considerably. I let out a loud breath of air and realized that I had been breathing shallow breaths for the past hour.

“I think I can help relieve some of the pressure right now. But you’re probably going to want to get yourself a breast pump.”

I nodded. I couldn’t even speak. I didn’t say anything as he put on a pair of latex gloves and stood next to me. He put his hands gently under one of my breasts, and then slid it around until his fingers formed a circle around my entire breast. Slowly, he slid them forward while squeezing gently. I felt something move in my chest.

He lifted his hands away, and then did the same thing again. More movement in my chest. It was a funny feeling, but not unfamiliar. My milk was ready to come out. The third time he did it, he lifted my exam gown up so he could touch my bare skin. I saw him grab a funnel attached to a bottle and hold it up around my nipple. When he squeezed his hands together that time, I felt a trickle of milk begin to seep out. It brought a tiny amount of instant relief.

As the doctor moved his hands into position again, I had a sudden urge to cry. Something about the scene was upsetting me. I looked around. It was a very sterile looking room. Perfectly clean. Everything was white—even the funnel. It was just all so very… clinical. I felt like I was in a lab.

My thoughts betrayed me yet again, and I pictured Adam touching me. I closed my eyes for one brief moment and saw him again. I saw him with his lips planted around my nipple, sucking the milk out of me. Something stirred between my legs and I almost cried out.

I snapped my eyes open, feeling tears welling up. The doctor pulled his hands away quickly at my reaction. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” he asked.

I was crying. I tried to answer, but all I could do was shake my head. He reached down to start again, but I pushed his hand away. I didn’t want him to touch me again. Not like that. Not there.

I wanted Adam to do it. And that thought brought a fresh wave of tears, with a sob at the end like an exclamation point. Embarrassment washed over me. I thought for sure the doctor could see right through me, and knew exactly what I was thinking about. I had to get out of that office.

I finally managed to say, “I can do this myself at home. Thank you.”

He let me go.

I changed back into my normal clothes in a small bathroom off the exam room. I splashed cold water on my face and carefully adjusted my breasts. They felt full.Oh God. I just hoped they didn’t leak through my shirt.

I finally made my way out to the waiting room. Adam jumped up from a chair when he saw me, concern still painted on his face. I tried to reassure him with a smile, but I don’t know if he bought it. It really wasn’t anything big, but I couldn’t tell him the whole story.

We drove home in silence. Neither of us seemed to want to talk about it. I just stared out the window as the cab drove us through the busy city. I spotted a health store and asked the driver to pull over. I opened my door and started to get out when I noticed Adam unbuckling his seatbelt.

“No,” I said.

He looked puzzled. “You want me to stay here?” he asked.

I hesitated and then pulled some money from my purse and handed it to the cab driver. “Just take him home, please,” I said. Then I turned to Adam and said, “I’ll be home in a little while.”

“Ok,” he sounded sad. Or maybe a little hurt. I couldn’t think about that right now so I closed the door and walked briskly up to the front entrance of the store. I didn’t even glance at the cab. I was afraid I would find Adam staring at me through the back window, and I was in no emotional shape to explore the implications of that look.

It took me a half hour to find what I was looking for. They had several different breast pump models. I had no idea it would be so complicated to shop for such a simple device. None of them looked like I would enjoy using it. The thought of using such an artificial device to get the milk out of my breasts seemed unnatural to me. I felt frustrated, but I finally picked one. It was a hand pump, instead of an automatic. Somehow that convinced me that it was closer to natural.

I felt embarrassed at the checkout counter while I bought the pump. I swear the cashier was looking at me strangely. I knew I was starting to feel paranoid, but I couldn’t help it. Everyone who looked at me seemed to be giving me that measuring gaze that said, “I know you slept with your son.”

I stumbled out of the store a few minutes later and found myself on a crowded sidewalk. People were moving by me without any acknowledgement that I even existed. I looked up and down the street, trying to decide where was the best place to find a cab. Cabs weren’t allowed to stop on the busy streets anymore in New York.

As I walked, my thoughts were a rampant swirl in my head. I felt like I couldn’t focus on any one thing. Except one vision dominated every other no matter how hard I tried to avoid it. Adam. My son. His hands touching my leg. His young body hovering over me. His quick-learning tongue between my legs. I stumbled as the thought brought with it a surge of sensation.

I caught myself on a wall and stood there catching my breath. I couldn’t stop the images. I couldn’t stave off the sensations that came with them. And I found myself wondering if it would feel as good if I had him inside me again. Wait, what?I was breathing heavily.

As if to remind me of my sin, my breasts started throbbing. Not with pain. Just pressure. Maybe a little bit of pain. I growled and started walking again. I felt like I was literally going insane.

Somehow I found myself walking into a small café. I glanced around the room and saw scores of people sitting at various tables drinking coffee. Each table was setup with a computer screen. It was an internet café.

I sat down at the only empty table in the place. It wasn’t very private, but the angle of the screens allowed for a modest amount of seclusion. I leaned back and closed my eyes for a minute. Bad idea. The visions came back with a vengeance.

Snapping my eyes open, I stared at the computer in front of me. It only had one icon on it, which was labeled INTERNET. I clicked it just as a waitress asked me if I wanted a drink. I ordered a vanilla latte with soy.

A familiar search engine appeared on the screen and I stared at the blinking cursor until the waitress brought me my drink. When she left, I logged into my email account to check my messages. There were three messages at the top that caught my attention right away. They were notifications that I had new messages on the anonymous dating website. The very website where I had inadvertently setup a date with my son.

My hands were shaking as I clicked the first link. It took me to a login page. I had to type my password three times before I got it right. I felt ill. The page started to fill in on the screen and I looked around. Nobody was looking at me.

I opened the first message. It was from Adam. I swallowed as I read the words on the screen, “I don’t want things to be weird between us.” It was sent twenty minutes ago.

I clicked the NEXT button and read his second message, which was sent fifteen minutes ago, “I wish you would talk to me.”

The third message was written five minutes ago. I clicked the button and felt my eyes glazing over as the message appeared on the screen. I read it, “I miss you, mom.”

I quickly closed the message window, looking around to make sure nobody had read my screen. There was a guy sitting by himself at the next table over, but he was staring at his own screen and typing.

I moved the mouse to the logoff button, but a window popped up before I could click it. It was Adam. “How are you online?” he asked.

I didn’t answer right away. Then he sent another message, “Are you home already??”

I leaned forward and typed an answer, “No.”

There was a long pause and then he typed, “Where are you?”

“I’m at an internet café,” I typed back. My hands were shaking so bad it was hard to type.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

I felt a swell of emotion inside me. He was really concerned about me. I realized that I absolutely hated not talking to him. I just didn’t know how to talk to him anymore. I was worried that I would end up betraying myself. I was worried that I would say the wrong thing. I was worried that I would seduce my son without being able to stop it.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” he typed after I didn’t respond.

I started to type, “I’m sorry,” but I erased it. Then I typed, “This is hard for me.”

“Me too,” he answered.

I thought for a minute and then typed, “What we did was wrong.”

There was another pause and then he said, “I know.”

My heart sank. I guess a part of me was hoping he wouldn’t agree with me. That he would try to convince me that it wasn’t wrong. That he might even try to seduce me again. I shook my head, frustrated with everything. I almost closed the window, but I hesitated. Another message from him showed up saying, “But I don’t care.”

I felt my breath start to catch. I looked around nervously, then back to the screen. Then I asked, “You don’t?”

He answered, “Look. We did it. We made love. And we can’t change that, no matter how hard we try to ignore it.”

I found myself staring at his words for a long time. He had said, “made love” instead of “had sex.” My heart was pounding. I was sure that everyone in the room could hear it. Actually, I was sure that everyone in the room and the people they were chatting with through the internet could hear it.

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t type. And my thoughts were completely against me. The only thing my mind was showing me was more imagery of Adam’s naked body. Of Adam lying on top of me. Of me lying on top of him. I shook my head just as I had the first thought in my life about what it would feel like to perform oral sex on my son.

“Are you there?” he typed.

“Yes,” I answered.

There was another long pause, and then two words flashed on my screen, “Come home.”

I gasped. There was something tremendously intimate about those two words. Maybe I was reading too much into it. But I very much had the impression that he was begging me to come home because he missed me. It felt the same as it would if two lovers had been at odds, and they were in the process of making up. Yeah, I got all that out of two words typed over the internet.

“Ok,” I finally typed back. Then I logged out before he could respond again.

I paid for my latte which I didn’t even touch, and made my way out of the café. I walked two blocks before I realized I had forgotten the breast pump. I almost screamed in frustration. I thought about going back for it, but the embarrassment was too much. I couldn’t face those people and ask if they had found my forgotten pump lying on the seat.

Resigned, I started looking for a cab. I found one two blocks later, on a small street that had very little traffic. I gave the driver my address and leaned back as he drove. It took almost forty five minutes to get through traffic and get home. But I made it.

I paid the driver and walked inside the apartment building. We lived on the ninth floor. I stepped onto the elevator and saw that number nine was already lit up. I looked over and saw one of my neighbors standing quietly in the elevator. She didn’t look at me. I didn’t even know her name. But I had a sudden thought that she knew what I had done.

It was suddenly very urgent that I get off that elevator. The doors opened on the sixth floor and I bolted between two startled people. I ran down the end of the hall and then through a door to the stairwell. With all my energy, I sprinted up the stairs. I wanted to beat the elevator so I wouldn’t have to see that woman again.

Three floors later, I pushed my way into the hallway and ran toward my apartment. I fumbled with the keys and dropped them. I glanced down the hall toward the elevator and heard it ding. Fuck. I bent down to pick up my keys and suddenly the door opened.

Adam was staring at me. He was wearing a blue button down shirt with jeans. The shirt was untucked, and the top several buttons were undone. I sucked in a breath as I realized that my son looked… sexy. But I shook myself out of my stupor and pushed my way into the apartment. He looked puzzled as I tried to catch my breath.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“N-nothing,” I said.

“Where did you go? I mean, why did you get out of the cab earlier?” he asked after closing the door.

I was still breathing heavily. I put my purse on the counter and said between breaths, “I… had to get… a… ahh, something.”

“Something? Like something the doctor told you to get? Did he give you some kind of medicine?” he sounded concerned.

“N-n-no. I h-had to get a p-p-pump,” I said. I felt nervous. I never stuttered. It was strange.

“A pump?” he asked, confused.

I nodded. “Yeah. For my breasts,” I said.

Adam’s eyes moved down to my chest and then I saw them open wide. His mouth opened, too. I looked down and felt the color leave my face. The front of my shirt was soaked. My breasts were noticeably larger. And you could see my nipples plain as day.

I finally screamed. My frustration that had been building all day finally came out, and I couldn’t hold it back. I felt my arms flailing around, like I was throwing a tantrum.

And then Adam was there. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me. He was warm. He smelled like fresh shampoo. And he was holding me like a consoling lover. Inside, I felt my heart melting. Outside, I felt my fear threatening to strangle me. I couldn’t move or speak.

I started shaking and he squeezed me tighter. It was emotionally intense, intimate. Physically it was… arousing. Fuck. I absolutely had to get away from him. I willed my hands up and pushed him away, but not roughly. He stared at me while I caught my breath.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, staring at my breasts. I noticed that his shirt was wet, too, from hugging my soaked blouse.

I looked down and almost started crying again. There was a big wet ring that reached down to my stomach. I shook my head to answer his question.

“Where is the pump that you bought?” he asked, looking around the room.

“Uh, I kinda forgot it. At the café,” I said, feeling blood rush to my cheeks.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

I looked up at him. He was still staring at my breasts. Oddly, his gaze didn’t make me feel self-conscious. Very odd.

“Did the doctor know why you have milk in… uh, your breasts?” he asked. He seemed to be torn as to whether he should be talking to me about my breasts. And maybe about what he should call them.

I nodded, suddenly wanting to avoid this conversation. Too many questions would lead to truths I didn’t know if I could share with him.

Adam paused, then asked, “Is something wrong with them? I mean, like, is that normal?”

I sighed. Then I looked up at my son and saw him looking at me with a steady face. The care was obvious. He cared about me. Maybe it had never really hit me before. Or maybe something had changed between us since we had sex. But the way he looked at me made me feel… well, loved. If only he knew how I had yearned for that look from his father. From anyone.

It was becoming clear to me that no matter what happened, my relationship with my son was forever altered. Bad or good, I didn’t know. But it was different. To the extreme. Just two weeks ago, I never would have considered that I’d be having a conversation even remotely close to this one with him.

“Mom?” Adam persisted.

Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I answered him, “No, there’s nothing wrong with me. Or my breasts.”

My last comment automatically pulled his eyes down to my breasts again, but he flicked them upward again quickly. He frowned and asked, “Did he know why it happened, though?”

Emotions that I had buried months ago came to the surface. I felt my eyes welling up with tears. And I couldn’t hold any of it in. “I was supposed to have a baby,” I said.

“What??” Adam’s shock was obvious.

“Adam, I got pregnant. Earlier this year. But I miscarried,” I explained. Just those few words coming out were enough for me to start to feel a slight degree of relief. It almost felt like the pressure in my breasts eased up a little, too.

“I—but… How? I mean, who? Wait. Seriously? You were going to have another baby?” Adam was definitely shocked.

I nodded. “But I miscarried.”

His mouth was hanging open, but he didn’t say anything else.

“My body is just finishing the cycle now, I guess. Hence the swollen breasts.” I almost felt like laughing. Was I that relieved after telling someone? Adam was the first person I had told aside from my doctor.

“Did you…” he started to ask something but trailed off.

I probably should have let it alone at that, but I wanted to know what he was thinking about. “Did I what?”

He hesitated. I nodded toward him, encouragingly. Then he asked, “Did you want to have another baby?”

I frowned, thinking about it. I remember going over that very question for the first month while I was pregnant. “I guess, yeah,” I said. “I mean, I wasn’t trying to get pregnant. But after it happened, I had to resign myself to the fact that I was going to be a mother again.”

“Wow,” he said.

I nodded. “Yeah, wow is right.”

We were both quiet for a few minutes. Neither of us seemed to know what to say next. Adam finally broke the silence by saying something as he turned toward the hallway.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Nothing, just thinking out loud,” he said.

Something about it piqued my curiosity. Had he just said something about crazy thoughts? “Tell me,” I said gently.

My son looked up at me. Then he said, “I just said I had some really crazy thoughts while we were making love.”

There he goes again with the “making love” reference. It had an instant effect on me. My body responded with a warm sensation just below my stomach. My mind responded with a visual of Adam buried inside of me, “making love” to me. I wanted to know his crazy thoughts. “Like what?” I asked.

He looked down at my stomach for some reason, then back up to my face. My cheeks flushed. I felt my heart racing a little quicker. Then he said, “Like how we didn’t use any protection, for one.”

I swallowed, hard. I had had the same thought. “For one?” I asked. “What about for two?”

He paused for a long time without answering. When he did answer, his voice was so quiet I had to lean forward to hear him, “I thought about what it would be like if I made you pregnant.”

Another instant reaction hit me. It felt like a twinge between my legs. A heat. And a tingle. My mind was reeling. He had really had a thought about that? Wait, did he mean he was scared about it happening? I had to ask more questions, so I pressed on, “And where did that thought take you?”

He seemed shy, his voice remaining quiet as he spoke, “Not far. That was the last thought I had before…”

I leaned even closer and whispered, “Before what?”

He looked up at me and said, “Before I came inside you.”

All day my mind had been throwing these images at me. Along with those had come physical sensations. Like a slow tease. Like a day of foreplay. And all day, I had been fighting them. Pushing them away.

But standing with my son, just a few feet between us, was different. And hearing him say those words, hearing him describe what we had done, had an effect on me that I wasn’t expecting. My heart was pounding. Each pulse sent trickles of pleasure straight between my legs. My vagina was tingling. I was extremely turned on.

When I spoke, my voice was barely a whisper, “That can’t be any worse than the thoughts I had myself.”

His head snapped up as he said, “What do you mean?”

I felt my nerves kick in again. I shook my head, saying, “You know what, forget it. This is too crazy.” I lifted my hand to my breasts and started rubbing one of them without realizing what I was doing. “I need to go get some of this pressure relieved. I think I’m going to have a bath.”

Wait, did I seriously just tell my son I was going to go take a bath and squeeze my breasts? Looking over at Adam’s face, I knew the answer to my question. He looked stunned. Then he licked his lips and turned away.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Too much information, I know.”

I turned and started walking down the hallway toward the bathroom. I heard Adam’s voice and it stopped me cold.

“I can’t stop thinking about what we did,” he said.

I slowly turned my head toward him and saw him staring at me. I nodded in understanding. I said, “I know. I’m sorry. I really am.” My insides were tangled. Metaphorically speaking.

I started walking again but two words from him stopped me again. “I’m not,” he said.

My mouth felt dry. I couldn’t face him. My body’s arousal was soaring and I was hanging on desperately to maintain some semblance of control. I felt hot. I needed to get the rest of the way into the bathroom.

I took one step. It was forced. Two step. I heard him walking toward me. Three step. I could barely breathe. Four step. I could hear him. Five step. He whispered, “You don’t understand.”

Six step. I turned to close the door and saw him. He looked sexy. Very sexy. All I had to do was close the door. Close the damn door! I couldn’t. Instead I whispered, “What don’t I understand?”

Adam didn’t move any closer, but he didn’t take his eyes away from mine. “I can’t stop,” he whispered.

“You just said that,” I said, breathless.

His voice grew quieter, yet it felt like he was whispering right in my ear, “But I don’t want to stop thinking about it.”

I closed the door. Breathe. Goddamnit, breathe! I counted to twenty. It was dark. I hadn’t even turned the light on. I held my hand on the door like that was enough to keep him from coming in. He didn’t try to open it though, bless his heart.

I waited for a long time in silence. My body was slowly calming itself down. My breathing was somewhat normal. But my heart was still pounding. Nothing to do about that. And my breasts were swollen.

I heard Adam’s voice drift through the door and I found myself enraptured by it. He spoke softly, “Look, I know it was really fucked up. I can’t do anything to change that. I can’t undo it. But it happened, mom. It happened. We can pretend it didn’t, but we both know it did. We made love. And now I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. I literally haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment it happened.”

My melting heart bled into my soul as I listened to his words. He had me at “look”, but I didn’t tell him that. I didn’t tell him anything. I just stood there, frozen, in the darkness of my bathroom. I wanted him. I wanted my own son. The feeling was so intense, I couldn’t even force myself to deny it. Still, I remained in silence.

After a very long time, I finally heard Adam sigh and then walk away. When I could no longer hear his footsteps, I reached out and locked the door. I wanted to take a bath and clear my head.

I drew myself a hot bubble bath. It had been years since I’d taken a bubble bath. As I climbed into the tub, the heat almost scalded my skin. But I soaked it in. It was exquisite. It took me several minutes to get my entire body in the water, but it was worth the wait.

I smiled as I felt tension oozing out of my muscles. Ahhh. I lay in the tub for a long time before deciding to try getting some of the milk out of my breasts. I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it, but I tried my best to mimic what the doctor had done. I wrapped both hands around one of my breasts and slowly pushed them forward while squeezing gently.

I reached the end of that breast and nothing happened. So I started again, squeezing a little harder. It felt a little sore when I squeezed, but I figured that was normal. Again, nothing came out. I sighed, frustrated, and tried a third time. I didn’t squeeze as hard, but I changed the angle of my hands as they wrapped around my breast. I felt something happening and I opened my eyes just as a stream of milk sprayed several feet into the air. I heard it splashing on the bathroom floor and I let go of my breast quickly.

The stream stopped immediately, turning into a dribble. I let my head drop back against the wall. I really wish I had that pump with me. I couldn’t believe I forgot it.

A few minutes later, the water started to cool off, so I decided to get out. I drained the water from the tub and used a dirty towel to wipe up my milk from the floor. Then I wrapped myself with my big blue towel and headed out of the bathroom.

The living room was empty, thankfully. I wasn’t ready to face Adam again just yet. I walked toward my bedroom, passing his on the way. For some reason, I had an urge to listen at his door. But I forced myself to keep walking until I made it all the way to my room. It was dark in the room as I closed the door. I locked it and switched on the light.

“Mom,” came Adam’s voice. I almost jumped right out of my towel. He was sitting on my bed wearing the same outfit as earlier. I didn’t know what to say to him. What was he doing in my room? Images danced through my head from the other night.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

He at least had the decency to look ashamed. I saw his eyes roam over my body, hidden behind a towel, and then look away. For some reason, his gaze caused another physical reaction. I tried to shove it away, but it wouldn’t budge. My stomach and everything beneath it was tingling.

When Adam didn’t answer, I asked in a quieter tone, “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t want things to be weird anymore,” he said.

I agreed, but I didn’t say it out loud. I just stood in my towel, staring at my son. After a minute, he asked, “Was your bath relaxing?”

I nodded and then shrugged. Then I said, “A bit, yes.”

His eyes flicked down to my breasts. It was as if an unasked question hung in the air. I couldn’t help but to cover my breasts with my arms. I felt shy around my son suddenly.

“Did you…,” he started to say something.

I sighed. “Did I what?” Why wouldn’t he just complete his sentences every time?

“…you know. Is it better now?” he asked.

I glanced down at my chest, aware of the still growing pressure in my breasts. My frustration level was still high, but I tried not to let it show. I shrugged and said, “Not really, no.”

Adam frowned. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“Only sometimes,” I answered. “It’s more pressure than pain. But it’s annoying.”

He nodded, looking away. When he looked back his eyes were already staring at my breasts. I tried to push away any reaction to it, but I couldn’t. My body was not cooperating at all. I felt suddenly very vulnerable. My arousal was swelling up again. It was time for Adam to leave my room.

I tried to hint that he should go by saying, “I need to get dressed.”

He licked his lips again, not moving. Then he said, “I could help.”

“What??” I asked. “Help me get dressed?” What a weird thing to offer. Although what was weirder still was the fact that I felt a thrill at the prospect of him touching me. I shook my head.

“No, not that,” he said quickly. “I meant, uh… help with that,” he nodded toward my breasts as he spoke.

“Oh!” I said too loudly. My stomach was turning summersaults. It was a war with myself. Part of me was screaming that it wasn’t right, that he had to leave. Part of me was screaming back that it didn’t matter. And part of me was completely and thoroughly and helplessly turned on.

Adam stood up, and I found myself staring at his chest. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone. Something about his stance reminded me suddenly of his father. And he looked incredibly sexy. I forced myself to turn away, but the damage was already done. My pussy was tingling.

“You want me to help?” Adam asked softly, taking one step closer to me.

I pulled the blanket tighter and said, “No!” Inside my head I said, “Yes.”

He stopped walking and said, “Why not?”

“What do you mean, ‘why not’?” I said, as if I was upset about his question.

I felt like I was just playing out some role in a play or something. These were the questions and reactions I was supposed to ask. But I was only acting, and I knew it.

Adam looked nervous. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking away. I started to feel bad. I was being a bit harsh. He was just offering to help, after all. He turned back toward me and spoke quietly, “It’s not that big of a deal, if you think about it.”

Oh, I was thinking about it alright. I couldn’t stop. I was thinking about my son touching my naked breasts, and it was making me hot. I squeezed my legs together, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

I looked away as I said, “But it is a big deal.”

He took another step closer. He was just a few feet away from me. Too close. I felt faint. My heart was racing. I made my legs move, and in a few steps, I sat down on my bed.

Adam turned toward me, looking down at me. I couldn’t help but notice his form. My eyes took in my son’s body and I swallowed a lump in my throat. When I reached his waist, I had to force my mouth to stay closed. There was a very obvious bulge in his jeans.

“I’ve already done it once,” he explained.

I looked up at him. He was staring at me intently. I tried to say something, but my mouth was dry. He took a step toward the bed. My heart was pounding faster. I squeezed my legs together, feeling a heat building in my crotch.

Adam continued trying to convince me, “What’s wrong with me helping?”

I tried to look away, but his gaze had me. I opened my mouth and whispered, “Everything.”

He took another step closer. He whispered, “It’s already been done.”

I felt myself trembling. He was too close. His body towered over me and I felt like a little girl. I opened my mouth again. I had to tell him to go. He had to leave. I couldn’t do this. But I was nodding instead. He took another step, and then I watched my son kneel down before me.

As I stared at my son, I felt myself becoming transfixed on his face. I noticed how soft the lines of his cheekbones were. He had my chin, and his father’s thin lips. His eyes were a mesmerizing green, but as I stared at them, I realized that he had tinges of blue mixed in with the green. They were alluring.

For the first time in my life, I realized how attractive my son was. No, I realized how attracted was to him. It hit me and I couldn’t stop the flood of images that stalked my mind. His body beneath me, face writhing in pleasure. I squirmed at the thought, hot between my legs. My breath caught in my throat.

My arm reached out for Adam’s face, but I caught myself before I touched him. I put it on the bed instead. I felt myself drawn to him in ways that I had never even felt for any of my boyfriends, or even my husband. It was unreal, this newfound fantasy. But this fantasy was real.

Adam let his eyes drop down to my breasts. I wasn’t sure if my milk was soaking through the towel or not. He licked his lips. Shouldn’t I be creeped out by that? Shouldn’t I have some objection to my son salivating over my boobs? But no, I had none of that.

I had a twinge of fear in the back of my mind. It flared acutely, but then dissipated as my arousal took its place. A few seconds later, the terror receded to the deep recesses of my mind and I forgot about it.

The last vestige of my resistance showed up in the form of my hand moving to my breast, holding desperately to the towel. He looked up into my eyes and whispered, “Let me help you.”

Adam reached out and gently pulled my hand away from my towel. I let it go and the edges of my towel started to drop away, threatening to expose me. I tried to catch it, but I couldn’t move. He gently tapped the towel and it fell away from me. I felt cool air on my chest as my naked form was exposed to the air. Exposed to my son’s lust filled vision. He leaned toward me. Then I felt a warmth at the base of my breast as a single finger caressed me. Good god!

I glanced at him and saw that he was staring at my breasts. I looked down and saw that both nipples were damp from milk. His finger moved, and my eyes closed without checking in with me. I didn’t care. My body was on autopilot and I was lost. My head swam in a pool of ecstasy as my son slowly traced a circle around my breast. I shivered.

Adam added a second finger, going in opposite directions. My body flinched. The pressure in my breasts was growing, but so was the heat between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together, trying not to moan. I felt my head fall back as he continued to caress me. My hands were firmly planted on the bed, holding me upright.

His fingers started to draw smaller and smaller circles, converging on the center of my breast. I finally did gasp, unable to keep it in. Pleasure pulsed through my chest. I wanted him to drink my milk. I wish I could say it was solely for medicinal reasons, but it was far beyond that. I wanted my son to milk me. Did I seriously just have that thought? I moaned as his fingers drew a smaller circle, tracing lightly around the edge of my nipple.

I adjusted my hands on the bed to be more comfortable. I forced my eyes open and looked down to see my son’s head hovering just inches away from my breast. I realized I had another opportunity to stop this charade, but my will wasn’t strong enough. Instead of stopping it, I whispered, “Please.”

Adam obliged. I stared at the top of his head as he moved forward. I felt the warmth from his lips on my nipple and I shivered. He was being extremely gentle. It was amazing. I felt his fingers continuing to circle my nipple while his lips drew closer still. My body tensed up, and I felt my heart accelerating. I had to squeeze my legs together again.

And then his lips finally found my nipple. I erupted with pleasure. I heard myself moaning loudly. His tongue flitted against my skin and his lips wrapped around it. “Oh, God!” I thought to myself. Or maybe I said it out loud. I had no idea. It was all blurred together.

Adam sucked gently, his lips opening and closing around the skin surrounding my nipple. I felt his tongue lightly flicking me. Suddenly his lips clamped down and he was sucking a little harder. I leaned my chest toward him, subconsciously. I moaned. It felt amazing to have my son sucking on my breast.

He sucked harder. My mouth opened in a silent moan. And I felt the fingers of his hand form a circle around my breast. I gasped, my pussy exploding with sensation. I had to squeeze my legs and keep them pressed together to stave off a growing orgasm.

My son squeezed gently with his hands, just as his lips pressed tight and he sucked even harder than he was. I felt like everything switched to slow motion. I shivered. My legs squeezed tighter. My pussy pulsed with pleasure. Adam moaned. And suddenly my breast was spraying milk into his mouth.

I stared down at his head and watched his lips sucking vigorously against my nipple, slowly draining the milk from my breast. I gasped. The relief was intense. In itself, it wasn’t sexual. But the situation was so arousing, I thought I was going to have an orgasm right there.

I watched as my hands slowly surrounded Adam’s head, twining fingers in his hair. I was encouraging him to continue by my actions and I didn’t care. He sucked and squeezed, and my milk poured into his mouth. He swallowed everything. I didn’t feel anything dribbling down my skin.

The pleasure between my legs was intense beyond belief. The erotic nature of the experience was carrying me to places I’d never been before. He continued to suck on my breast, relieving the pressure. I started pressing my thighs together repeatedly, feeling sensations in my pussy that were new to me. I gasped as he suddenly sucked harder. I felt a spray of milk flow from my breast. I was moaning openly.

Adam squeezed his hands around my breast one more time, and I felt a deluge of liquid stream out. He gagged briefly, but recovered. I shifted my hips and realized that I was rubbing my thighs together rather vigorously. I had an orgasm brewing inside of me that felt foreign. I let go of one hand on his head and moved it down to his back, massaging him. I hoped he took it as encouragement.

Finally my breast felt empty. I was panting as the pleasure rippled through my body. My pussy tingled as I continued to rub my thighs together. If we were sane, we would have stopped at that point. But Adam didn’t hesitate for long before switching to my other breast.

His lips clamped down around my other nipple. There was no lag this time. My milk began to stream into his mouth the second his tongue flicked against it. I moaned loudly, squeezing his head. My legs pressed tighter together, still rubbing. My son drank my milk with suck after suck. The pressure in that breast was subsiding rapidly.

An orgasm erupted inside me, seemingly from nowhere. I hadn’t realized it was so close. But I beckoned it once I knew it was there. I started shifting my thighs frantically, rubbing myself. I felt my skin pressing against my clitoris. Adam continued to drink the milk from my breast as my orgasm crashed into me.

“Ooooooh,” I moaned. I couldn’t keep it in. I squeezed my legs together tightly. Ripples of pleasure rammed into me. I gasped, my body bucking with spasms. Adam religiously drained the rest of my milk, the relief of pressure adding to the pleasure of my orgasm.

My body was humming as I came down from my orgasm. And Adam finally pulled away, panting. He was very much out of breath. I felt a dribble of milk run down my skin, but I didn’t care. I was staring at him as he continued to kneel between my legs. My breath came in shallow gasps as the last remnants of my orgasm passed through me. It was intense beyond comparison.

I looked down at Adam and he was smiling at me. And then I collapsed backward. My back couldn’t hold me up anymore. Every muscle was weak. My chest was free of pressure. My pussy was tingling with pleasure. And I was extremely content.

Slowly, Adam stood. I looked up at him and then traced my gaze down his beautiful body. I stopped at his crotch, now visible. I almost gasped. His erection was screaming through his pants. I felt horrible for causing that. And at the same time, I realized that I wanted to help him with it.

Our eyes met at the same time. He smiled nervously at me and I smiled back. He didn’t move. It took me all of about eight seconds to make up my mind before I pushed myself upward with my arms. My body was still tingling with sensation, but I didn’t let it slow me.

With steady hands, I reached toward Adam’s waist and grabbed his belt buckle. He didn’t try to stop me as I undid the buckle and unzipped his jeans. The last thing I tackled was his button, which was easier to release than I thought. And with that, there was only the lowering of his pants left. He helped me with that, and soon my son was standing in his underwear before me.

I couldn’t help but lick my lips as I stared at Adam’s bulging penis. I looked up at him and saw him staring at me. Without taking my eyes away from his, I reached out and slid two fingers into his underwear. A quick tug brought them down to his knees.

We continued to hold our gazes, despite the fact that I knew his raging hard-on was calling to me. Neither of us said anything. Finally, I tore my eyes from his and looked down.

I found myself staring at the most beautiful cock I had ever seen. It was perfect in every way. He had to be at least eight inches long, and almost two inches around. He was quite big. I licked my lips again. I had some level of resistance still in the back of my mind, but I pushed through it.

My head started moving forward before I told it to. And then my tongue was out, eagerly wanting to taste my son’s penis. Two seconds later, my wish came true. My tongue slid along the tip of his erection. Adam moaned. Loudly.

His moan was the only signal I needed to push forward completely. I felt my lips part as his manhood entered my mouth. There was absolutely no way whatsoever that we were ever going back. Not only had I made love to my own son, but now I was giving him a blowjob. Willingly.

And then I was pumping my son’s cock into and out of my mouth. I moved my hands around to his ass and used that as leverage to steer him better. I wanted him as deep as he could go. I don’t even know why I had that thought, but I knew I wanted it.

Faster and faster I slid my lips along his erection. Each time I pushed forward, I tried to get to the end of him. But he was big. I gagged twice as I tried to figure it out, but in the end I worked out the best stroke to use and the best rhythm. He was moaning loudly by now, and I wasn’t slowing.

I wanted my son to come in my mouth.

Faster I slid. It felt like a blur. My lips were wrapped tightly around the skin of his penis. I pushed forward, willing him deeper in my throat. I was close. I sped up. I was bobbing rapidly on his cock every few seconds. I heard him start to moan louder, and then his hands were in my hair.

That was my cue, so I started swirling my tongue around his cock while pushing forward and back. His penis penetrated between my lips over and over, going deeper each pass. I finally pushed all the way down to his skin, finding just the right angle. He gasped, grabbing my head.

“Mom, I’m close,” he moaned.

I pumped faster. Come on baby. My legs tingled again. I tightened my lips a little harder around my son’s cock, sliding up and down. He moaned again, but then I felt his body stiffen. I grabbed onto his buttocks tightly, forcing him as far into my mouth as he could go. I gagged, but held him. My tongue continued to swirl around his erection.

Adam started shaking and moaning as I held him deep inside of me. I felt his body tremble. I pulled back one last time, then thrust forward. And he exploded into me. I felt his cum jetting out of the tip of his penis and straight to the back of my throat. I quickly swallowed, but didn’t let go. He came again, moaning, “Uhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn, oooh god.”

I licked his penis again with my tongue, finally slowing down. He groaned as one final load shot out of his penis. I swallowed it eagerly and quickly. His cum tasted amazing. I had never tasted anything like it. It was almost… sweet.

Finally pulling my mouth away, I sucked in deep breaths of air while I caught my breath. Adam sat down on the bed next to me looking exhausted. I looked at him and saw him staring at me again. I couldn’t help but smile at him. I had just sucked my son’s cum into my mouth and liked it. No, loved it.

“Mom,” he panted.

I grinned. “Hmm?” I asked.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Shush, don’t swear at your mother,” I teased.

He grinned, “Right. Yeah. That’s the biggest concern I have right now.”

I smacked him and he laughed. Then I asked, “What actually is your biggest concern right now?”

“Uh,” he started. Then he said, “To get you off.”

My body reacted pleasantly to his words. He must not have realized that I had already had an orgasm. So I said, “I already did, sweetie.”

He frowned at me, then looked away. Quietly, he said, “I guess I mean I want to make love to you.”

It was as if I hadn’t even had an orgasm. My pussy tingled at his words, and I found myself longing for my son’s cock in my again. Oh fuck. I played it dumb and said, “Again? So soon?”

Adam looked down at my stomach, then traced his eyes all over my body. When he got back to my eyes, he nodded. “Yeah, so soon.”

I felt a little surprised. I wasn’t sure I completely believed him. But I wanted to. God, I wanted to. “You’re serious?” I asked.

“Mom,” he said, taking hold of my hand. “Look, I’m not done yet,” he guided my hand down between his legs. I felt his penis, and it was still as hard as it had been. I opened my eyes wide. No way!

Adam didn’t hesitate any longer. His lips were suddenly pressed against mine. And for the first time ever, I kissed my son. I mean kissed my son. I didn’t try to resist any part of it. His tongue pushed its way between my lips and I moaned into him. I felt his lips opening and closing, and I responded in kind. He was an intense kisser, and it was turning me on like crazy.

I wrapped my arms around Adam’s back as his body slid closer to mine. He put the full weight of his body on me and it felt perfect. I spread my legs to the sides, wrapping them around his waist. He continued to kiss me, a passion I never would have thought existed.

My eyes were closed. I continued to French kiss my son, not letting up for a second. I felt his legs between mine. I didn’t want him to wait, so I pushed my hips downward, toward his. He gasped as his penis slid up against the outside of my vagina. I moaned into him, encouraging him to continue.

“Make love to me,” I whispered.

His kissing turned even more passionate at my words. And then his hips were grinding against me. I felt the tip of his penis sliding next to my opening, and up against my clitoris. I moaned. But God I wanted him inside of me!

Adam pushed his penis right to my opening again, then slowed. I felt him there, hot against me. I was wet, almost sloppy wet. There was absolutely no resistance. Yet he held there. I decided to use my tongue to explore his mouth further. I lifted it up and rubbed it along the roof of his mouth. I guess that had an affect on him.

He suddenly exhaled through his nose, moaning. At the same time, he pressed forward and I cried out as his penis expanded into my pussy. It felt incredible. I was trembling. Everything was trembling. Even the bed, so it seemed. My son was inside me again, and it was one hundred times more intense than the last time we made love. I didn’t know if I could take the pleasure that was erupting in me. I gasped. My arms wrapped around him. And we continued to kiss like teenage lovers.

I heard Adam’s moaning coming closer and closer together, and he finally pulled back from our kiss. “Mom,” he said, almost urgently.

I moaned again, then murmured, “What dear?”

Adam was slamming into me, again and again. I could hardly concentrate. My second orgasm was approaching rapidly, and there was no way I could stave it off.

He answered my question between thrusts, “I’m… not… wearing… any… protection!”

For a millisecond, I thought about stopping. But one more thrust from him sent the thought away. And then I didn’t care. No, I did care. But somewhere, in the deep deep recesses of my mind, I wanted him to come in me. Oh fuck. I moaned out loud as a wave of pleasure stole my attention.

I wrapped my hands tightly around him. As the wave of pleasure subsided, I thought more about his warning. And what I realized was twisted beyond belief. I realized that I wanted my son to get me pregnant. Once the thought was there, I couldn’t take it back. And I couldn’t escape the crazy innuendoes that went with it.

I wanted my son to impregnate me.

I pushed harder against him, moaning loudly. I had no resistance left in me. I wanted him. I wanted him to explode inside of me. He already had once today, and I had swallowed it all. But I wanted it again where it counted. Where he could make me pregnant.

“Cum in me,” I whispered. That was the first time I had ever uttered those words to anyone. Adam never slowed. He looked at me, but never slowed. His cock continued to penetrate me again and again. It was unbelievable. The sensation was extraordinary. The intensity was almost too much to bear. My orgasm was close. I felt myself going over the edge.

I wrapped my hands around Adam’s back. “Do it,” I whispered. “I’m going to come, too,” I said, trying to entice an orgasm out of him.

My orgasm hit. Oh fuck, it hit hard. It was crazy. My body spasmed. The room shook. I felt tingles radiating from my pussy to every inch of my body. I was gasping and moaning at the same time. Adam continued to penetrate me over and over again, deeper. I screamed. “Cum in me, baby!” I said. I didn’t even know where those words came from.

But Adam obliged. He thrusted forward just as my orgasm peaked with a vengeance. And his thrust brought his first torrent of cum. I felt it in me. It was searing hot. It blasted the inside of my pussy as my own orgasm crashed through me. I was rocking, shaking, vibrating with intensity. I heard myself moaning while the bed shook. I heard myself screaming while my son shot stream after stream of cum into my pussy. I was panting.

My orgasm lasted forever. Adam sprayed another load into me. I lost count how many times I felt it. I didn’t care. It was the most intense orgasm I had ever had. It was the most intense sex I had ever experienced. And it was all with my own son. I was lost.

We finally slowed down until we stopped moving. I was panting, trying to catch my breath. Adam collapsed onto me, his penis still inside me. I felt his breath on my chest. It was intoxicating.

The last thing I remember was twining my fingers in his hair and smiling as I slowly drifted to sleep.

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