Jamie's Needs

Authors note

This story is about Brits and written by a Brit. It's written in the first person and I've tried to make it authentic. I fully realise that some of the slang may be foreign to American ears and, in particular, we Brits use 'mum' and 'mummy' where Americans use 'mom' and 'mommy'. I'm not saying either is intrinsically right or wrong, just that my characters are Brits who use the former. Another example is where Claire talks about suspenders – in the UK these hold up stockings, not trousers (or pants!).

Finally Jamie, Wayne and Adam are, of course, all eighteen.

It's the same old story, your stomach's giving you gyp and you know you have antacid somewhere but, right at the moment, it's not in any of the places it should be. I'd searched high and low and was, as a last resort, stood on tiptoes on a chair checking out the clutter on top of the bathroom cabinet. I'm a bit on the petite side so it was quite a reach for me. As I rummaged through some shaving stuff Jamie had been given for Christmas, I found that one of the boxes was surprisingly heavy. I turned it around to take a closer look and there, tucked away inside, I found, well, it certainly wasn't antacid; it was one of those webcam things you attach to computers. Until I had moved the box the wires that ran out of the back had been well concealed and I could now see that they disappeared through a neat hole in the plasterboard wall presumably to my son's room next door. Before I moved it the webcam had been positioned so that, with the open, 'wet room' design of our bathroom, it had an unrestricted view of the shower area in the corner. It wasn't hard to work out how it had got there, who it was aimed at and, more importantly, whose computer it was attached to. Now I really did feel sick and I would need more than antacids to sort this one out. I got down off the chair and, still in a state of shock, sat down on the edge of the bath.

At this point I'd better give you some of the background. My name is Claire Morris and Jamie is my only child. I'm a single mum and have been since Jamie's dad walked out leaving me to bring up our eight year old son. Jamie was devastated both by the divorce and by his father's subsequent rapid disappearance and became very quiet and withdrawn. Now, ten years later, he's doing fine but he's still very shy around girls and happiest in front of his computer. Of course I'm well aware that, like all eighteen year old boys, he's using it to download porn but, well, that's normal and I'd be worried if he wasn't. What I hadn't known until then was that he wasn't just downloading the stuff; he was making his own with me in the shower as the star performer.

At first my anger was winning out in the turmoil of emotions roiling within me. I looked up at the webcam and it seemed to stare back at me. I enjoy my showers, they're my way of relaxing, my private time. Hah! Private time! All the while this damn thing had been watching me and I had been unwittingly performing in some sort of sex show. But what was I going to do about it? My first thought was to climb back on the chair, grab the webcam, smash it into tiny pieces and present the broken remains to Jamie before grounding him for life, well, as much as I could ground an eighteen year old. What on earth was he thinking of, what on earth had made him do it? Indeed, the more I fumed over it the more it came down to the question, what on earth had made him do it? I mean, what sort of boy gets off on watching his mother in the shower? It would be understandable, albeit illegal and immoral, had he had rigged up something similar to spy on the cute little blonde who lived three doors down but why me, after all, I'm old enough to be his mum. Dammit, I am his mum.

The more I thought on this the more I calmed down and started to work out the reasons why it had come down to this. His shyness around girls meant that I was, effectively, his only female company and, with all the testosterone that plagues the teenage male of the species, he'd focussed on what was available. I might not be much but I was all he had. How sad was that? My initial anger was turning to pity; he might be eighteen but inside he was still the shy and insecure little boy I had comforted through the aftermath of the divorce. That brought out the maternal side of me and the more I thought about it the more I wanted to help him, not punish him; the more I wanted just to cuddle him and tell him that everything was going to be OK just as I had done so all those years ago. Poor thing, reduced to spying on his mother to get his jollies. And then, well, if spying on me was helping him then where's the real harm? It wasn't normal, it certainly wasn't normal, but, after all, no one was really getting hurt. My dignity may have taken a knock or two but I never had that much to start with. I mean, if he had gone after the blonde from three doors down he could have ended up in so much trouble it would ruin his life. At least I wasn't going to call the police.

The one thing I wasn't quite prepared to admit, well, not at that point, was that part of me didn't mind at all that he was spying on me. I was, of course, really worried about where these videos were ending up; was he sharing them with his computer nerd friends or, worse still, were they appearing on the web somewhere? However, once you get past that, and the fact that he's my son, it's kind of flattering that he finds me sexy. Indeed, even the 'sharing with friends' bit wasn't that bad. I smiled to myself as I imagined him and those nerdy kids that come round to play on his X-box all gathered round his PC having a good old wank whilst watching me having a shower. It should have been creepy but they're good kids really and, actually, it was rather exciting. I've always had an exhibitionist streak in me; one of my favourite fantasies is about being some sort of femme fatale stripper and whilst I knew the reality tends to be rather sordid and I'd never be a stripper for real, well, this kind of played into that fantasy.

But, however much it might make me tingle 'down there', I couldn't ignore the fact that he had been spying on me. There were all sorts of trust issues here as well as the big question of exactly who else had been watching. Was it just him or had he shared videos with his friends or, nightmare time, put them on the web. It was time we had a good hard chat about it all; whatever I felt, anger or pity, prude or exhibitionist, I couldn't just allow this to continue. In my mind I imagined the scene, the anger, the shouting, the tears, the slamming doors, the long silences. Our relationship was certainly going to change; what I must not do was destroy it all together.

And that's when I made the plan. I stared up at the unblinking glass eye and it just came to me. OK, so the simple answer would have been just to confront Jamie, to wait until he came home and just have it out with him but something inside me said that, if he could play silly buggers then, so could I. The first thing to do was to carefully replace the webcam back the way it was so that he wouldn't know I'd spotted it. The second was to hide away some props of my own for the next time I had a shower. I chose to hide them in the washing basket; heaven knows it's the last place he would look and it had the added benefit of being out of the line of site of the camera. Then I waited for a suitable opportunity.

As it turned out I didn't have that long to wait. At five thirty that very evening he came home with Adam and Wayne, his two closest friends, trailing behind him. If any of his friends were his cohorts in spying then it was these two.

"Hi boys," I said brightly.

"Hi, Mrs Morris," the boys replied. Jamie just grunted as they all trooped off into his room. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach but this was the perfect opportunity to put my plan into action and I'd be crazy not to take advantage. The first step was to announce my intentions of showering so, five minutes later, I took them in some Cokes and a plate of biscuits.

"I'm just going to take a shower so please you could avoid using the loo until I've finished," I said. A chorus of "OK, Mrs Morris," and "OK, mum," was the response and off I went to the bathroom.

It was odd knowing, or at least guessing, that I was being watched. I had to tread a fine line; I wanted to put on a show but I didn't want to make it too obvious that I was on to them. Above all, despite the temptation, I must not look at the camera. By now the butterflies in my stomach were doing a rather energetic rumba but I was determined to go through with it. Trying to act as naturally as I could I got undressed and turned on the shower. While I waited for the water to warm up I got out my razor and put it in the soap dish where I would be able to reach it. I retrieved the props from the washing basket and, keeping everything out of range of the camera, put them on the seat of the toilet ready for action. With everything ready I got under the shower.

At first I kept my back turned to the camera. The butterflies were settling down but I still had a little shyness to overcome and, anyway, I wanted a slow build up. I lathered my hair using a little more shampoo than normal so as to get plenty of suds which I let run down my body. As I massaged the rich lather into my hair I could feel the way that every time I raised my arms I was lifting my breasts and, still facing the wrong way, I struck a couple of poses; I could almost imagine the frustration in the other room because I had my back to the camera. This, in itself, was getting to me and I took the soapy palms of my hands and lifted up my breasts, feeling my nipples harden as my palms slid over them and, all the while, tilting my head back and letting the shower rinse away the suds from my head. Whilst I could only guess what it was doing for the boys it was doing wonders for me.

Then it was time for shower gel, lots and lots of shower gel. As I rubbed it all over my arms, my legs, my torso, my breasts and my groin I was twisting and turning getting teasingly close but never quite giving them the full frontal that I knew they would be praying for. A shower is pretty sensuous at the best of times and, as I massaged the rich creamy gel all over my body, paying special emphasis to my breasts and pussy, so, what had started as a show, was fast becoming the real thing. How much I was doing this for their benefit or for mine was moot, we were both getting off on it; or at least I had to assume they were.

But I had one final twist to my performance. The hair on my head wasn't the only hair that was going to get my full attention; I keep my pubes well trimmed anyway but this time I was going to shave myself properly. I reached for the razor and another handful of shower gel. Positioning myself so that the shower was cascading down my back and, more importantly, I was facing directly towards the webcam, I massaged the cream into the stubble of my normal trim. Then I took the razor and started to give myself a Brazilian. It wasn't going to be perfect, standing in the shower isn't the place for that, but it was definitely going to be a show. Stretching the skin tight with my free hand I worked away with the razor leaving me as hairless as a baby's bottom. By now I was so turned on I had to be quite careful; my sex lips were swollen and, with my little clitty all aroused and poking clear, if I wasn't careful I'd shave off rather more than I wanted.

At last I could spin it out no longer. I turned off the shower and took a towel off the rack. I made almost as much of a show of drying myself as had of showering and was completely dry when I reached for the first of my props from the toilet seat. This was a piece of card which I held in front of my belly so, when I turned back to the camera, they could clearly read:

Hello boys, enjoying the show?

My suspicion that all three boys had been watching were confirmed as, even through the walls, I could hear the three gasps of surprise and a certain amount of confusion from next door as they tried to cover their tracks. However I was ready for this and had already planned my next move. I grabbed the second prop and, holding the towel loosely in front of me, opened the door and strode the two paces to my son's bedroom. I flung open the door and looked at the chaos within.

"Well, well, well, what have we got here?" I said sweetly, "three mucky little boys playing with their willies by the looks of things."

The look on their faces was priceless. The little darlings had been caught, quite literally, with their pants down. Wayne and Adam must have been sat on Jamie's bed while Jamie was sat in the swivel chair in front of his PC. All three of them had their jeans and boxers around their ankles and were all in various contortions as they tried to pull them up. The PC screen was, mysteriously, switched off but so was the TV and it was quite clear that, whatever games they might have been playing, the X-box hadn't been involved. I leant back against one door jamb and put my hand across to the other, effectively blocking the door.

"Please, Mrs Morris, I'm so sorry, we were just..." Adam stuttered and Wayne nodded in agreement. Jamie just looked mortified.

"Shh... the three of you," I ordered. "I know all about the webcam and I know exactly what you three were doing even if you have switched off the PC. Do you think I don't know three little peeping toms when I see them? So, you get your kicks by watching me naked; is this what you wanted to see?" I let the towel drop which not only exposed my body but also the second prop, my vibrator, which had been concealed under the towel. I struck a pose, letting the boys drink it all in before, switching on the vibrator and, using it point downwards, stroked my pussy lips with the tip. I sighed with pure pleasure as the vibrator did its thing against my waiting sex. "OK, boys, no webcam this time, this is the real thing!"

The boys didn't move but just stared at me, their eyes the size of saucers. I put my head back and moaned gently as I reversed the vibrator and played with the tip just inside my pussy lips. Normally I like to use the tip directly on my clitty but this was more about giving the show than getting me off and I knew that the boys would feel cheated if they didn't see it go into my pussy. Out of my half closed eyes I watched as Wayne and Adam, still with their pants down, sat back down on Jamie's bed and Jamie, rooted to his PC chair just sat and stared. All three had their hand around their rock hard stiffy and Wayne even had the temerity to stroke his up and down. Gradually, working the vibrator back and forth and making as much of a show as possible, I pushed more and more of it inside me although, to be honest, it was the thought of my audience that was turning me on as much as any mechanical vibrations going on inside me. Using longer and longer strokes I pushed the vibrator deeper and deeper until, with it finally filling me up I could use the knuckles of the hand that was holding it to rub against my clitty and I knew I was near the edge.

"Oh, boys," I moaned, "I love it when my vibe's inside my hot juicy cunt. It feels so good and I can imagine it's a big fat prick filling me up." I got the gasp I wanted when I used the 'c' word and talking dirty was just making me hotter and hotter. "Do you see how hot I am? Do you see how wet my cunt is? Do you want to see me come, boys, do you, do you?" I asked between gasps of pleasure. "What about you, Adam, Wayne, do you want to see a hot woman orgasm? Well, do you?"

"Yes, please, Mrs Morris," it was Wayne who spoke first, "please, I'd like to see you come." Adam just nodded in agreement. I glanced over at Jamie who was in an obvious turmoil of lust and embarrassment so I didn't expect any answers from him.

I looked back at Wayne and Adam and the look of lust and wonder in their eyes was simply too much. I felt like a goddess, I felt worshipped, adored, put on a pedestal, and that was enough to break the dam within me. As my left hand gripped the door jamb my right rubbed urgently against my pussy whilst still holding the vibrator deep within me.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh my god!!" I half moaned, half panted. Show or not I wasn't faking one bit of it as I screamed out my climax and only the hand gripping the door jamb kept me upright. With a groan that came from my guts I squeezed the last ounce out of the orgasm and exhausted, let the vibrator slide from within me. I hadn't come like that in ages, hell, I'd never come like that at all and it took quite a while before I could get my breath back. I looked up to see the three lads, their eyes still like saucers, silent in shock and awe, staring at me.

Businesslike I stooped down to pick up the towel and wrapped it around me, knotting it together over my tits. Then I switched off the vibrator and stood it up on end on the desk next to Jamie's computer.

"You boys can lick that clean if you want," I said before turning and going to my own room making a point of shutting the door behind me.

I took a few minutes to calm down and compose myself and then a few minutes with the wet wipes cleaning up between my thighs before I got dressed and went to sit in the lounge. I'd dropped my bombshell; now it was time to behave as normally as possible. I was busy watching one of those cooking shows when I heard Jamie showing Wayne and Adam to the door. After he had seen them off he was heading back to his room when I called out.

"Where do you think you're going, young man? It's high time you and I had a little talk."

"Sorry, mum, I'm so sorry," Jamie began as he turned and came into the lounge.

"Never mind sorry, come over here and sit down," I patted the sofa indicating that he should sit net to me, "now, first things first. Who else has been watching me apart from Wayne and Adam? Do all your friends get a look is it just them and please, please, tell me you haven't posted videos of me on the web."

"Mum!" Jamie was horrified at the suggestion.

"Don't you 'mum' me," I said sternly. "Look me in the eye and tell me you haven't posted anything on the web."

"Mum, I can promise you that no one outside of me, Adam and Wayne have seen any videos of you." Jamie lifted his head and looked me in the eye and I could see that he was sincere.

"So, do you record them? Have you got any saved?"

"One or two," he admitted.

"Right, let's go and have a look." I stood up and, somewhat reluctantly, Jamie followed.

"Show me where you keep them," I ordered once we were in his room. He sat down in the swivel chair, fired up his PC and opened a folder called 'mum' where there were far more than one or two video files, each with a date attached. They seemed to go back quite a while. I reached over his shoulder, took the mouse from his hand and double clicked on one at random. A new window popped up on his PC and there I was getting ready for a shower. The picture wasn't that good, there was that fish eye distortion you tend to get with those things but it was certainly clear enough. I watched as I shed my clothes and, totally unaware that I was being watched, started my shower. I had seen enough; I clicked on the little 'x' to close the window and pushed Jamie's swivel chair until he was facing me.

"Promise me again that these have never been put on the web," I said slowly. "Go on; look me in the eye and promise."

"I promise, mum," he mumbled with his head down.

"Not good enough," I reached down, put my fingers under his chin and lifted his head. "Come along, look me in the eye and promise me."

"I promise, mum, really, I promise. I don't let anyone see them. I wouldn't even let Wayne have a copy when he wanted one for his iPhone."

"Why on earth would he want that?" I asked but, even as I did so I could tell I was being dumb. "He wanted it so that so that he could look at it in bed when he's having a wank, didn't he?"