Temptation Ch. 01

We were both undoubtedly aroused in our love seat. My son beside me was hard all throughout our chat, his leg swaying with my covered lap. Me on the other hand was gasping between words.

"Mom?"

"Yesss."

"Did you know that, that..."

"That, ahhh, what?"

"That, I've been using your..."

"You've been using my, ahhh, what?"

"Your, your..."

"My what?"

"Your... you know,"

"No, I don't. Say it...I want to know."

"That I've been using your, kinda, feminine scent?"

Disappointment poured over me for failing to hear what I wanted him to say.

"What is, ahhh, the use of my scent?"

"I like, your scent, especially when cream is blended with the natural scent of your body."

"And, ahhh, what then?

"Mom, you may not realize it but your body scent gets in the way."

"Of what?"

"I, can't, say it."

"Say it, please."

"It's, the scent of your body..."

"What of it? Is it, ahhh, offensive?"

"No, of course not. I just said I like it."

"So then, ahhh, it gets in the way of your what?"

He paused for a while before carefully saying,

"Of, my, private senses."

I feigned surpise, causing a short pause.

"Can you, ahhh, share with me, how it does?"

"When, your scent gets in the way of my senses...I do wrong things."

"Like?...Ahhh."

"My, attraction to your body scent, kinda makes me do it, in your, in your..."

"In my, ahhh, what?"

How I wished he'd say it, although I already knew it.

"Mom?"

"Yesss."

"Please understand, that I am, maturing."

"Ahhh, of course I do."

My heart was beating fast and my breathing getting heavier as I waited to hear his confession. For my son to confess to me and share with me the hows and whys of his intense fetish for my recently taken-off house clothing so excited me sexually.

"I, always do it in your..."

"Ahhh, in my, ahhh, what?"

"In your...scented..."

"Ahhhh, say it, ahhh."

I was literally gasping for breath in anticipation and sexual arousal.

"Mom, I'm, afraid to say it."

"Don't be. I'm your mother, ahhh, ready to listen, ahhh, to things that disturb you."

"Thanks, Mom... You see, your body scent, as attached to your clothing, stirs my senses and, because of it - pardon my words - I always masturbate in your, in your..."

"Ahhh, ahhh, in my what? Ahhh, ahhh..."

Suddenly, the voice of my husband, his dad, calling for my name, reverberated in the stillness of the dimly-lit house. This time it really was him!

We were jolted out together from our dream-like states. The exchanging of glances broke up and our glued legs disengaged as we jumped off the love seat, me pulling my robe together with both hands like my life depended on it. It was as if it had parted entirely, even though actually it really wasn't at all.

Probably, what I was trying to do was to transform the article of seduction into a robe of righteousness and, at that moment, the sooner the better.

***

My son scampered around the counter to conceal the recalcitrant hard-on tenting his shorts, not from his mother's view, who herself was actually blocking it with her tensely shaking bottom, but from the view of his approaching, and apparently suspicious, father.

As my grim-faced husband marched nearer, the fear (and I confess, the thrill) of getting caught scantily-dressed in the dark with my son, coupled with the sexual heat evoked by our erotic flirt, brought me to something absolutely shocking, something I'd never anticipated," an unexplained orgasm! Not big, as orgasms go, but no mere tingle either.

It was a strange, shockingly surprising but wonderful sensation. My body throbbed; and under my robe, female juices coursed down my thankfully covered inner thighs.

I could feel silk being sucked into my pulsing crack as it reacted, mostly from the fear and partly from the thrill. My legs buckled almost uncontrollably.

Albert, who was now right behind me, realized my predicament and tried to steady me, taking me by the shoulders, which also helped prevent me from falling clear on down. Thank God, this was also how his father understood our son's action. To him, it appeared I had mis-stepped and briefly lost my balance. The other thing my husband didn't see was that our son's rigid tent was pressing at his mother's wildly throbbing ass hole through her gown.

The virtual, all but penetrating piercing of his youthful manhood back there behind me made me gasp aloud. Not only that, it stimulated further previously unrecognized erogenous zones of mine, triggering another orgasm over the trailing edge of the first one, loading even further my already massively sensually sensitized body.

For reasons beyond my ken, my husband, who was just a few feet away, seemed quite unaware to any of those wonderful sensations gripping me and my son.

Mark asked why I was not in bed. I could only answer with breathless gasps at first, as my son remained put, attached to the entire length of my behind. I tried to feign pain from a wrenched ankle, and thence, continued unsteadiness from that. Apparently, it worked. Because to my surprise, he had no questions about our flirting in the dark.

I wanted to disengage my ass from my son's hard tent for my own private decency, if nothing else. But under these circumstances, I thought it would be much too disastrous if I did.

It seemed that Mark could not recognize the young man's attire, what with his mother's body eclipsing his and, yes, thankfully the darkened room. Whatever or however it came to be, my son and I continued to quietly, privately, enjoy the spasms of nerve-racking, forbidden but fabulous sensations, even as we stood there like this before his dad.

When I was back to myself at last, I wasn't sure if I should quietly thank my husband for unwittingly preventing what could have unnaturally happened or curse him for aborting an edgy but sexy splendor in the dark. Whichever, his interruption had come just in time; the chaste lady of virtue inside me was sure of that. Not that it prevented our shamelessness internally, but at least the cherished virtue of my female privates had not been violated by the foulest of penetrations.

***

The fears, aftershocks and bewilderment came and went. The confrontation concluded without violence, and we all returned to our resting places and slept the balance of the night away.

My son and I never talked afterward of the sexual near miss. An obvious after effect though was our becoming closer together, emotionally as well as physically. We continued with our lives as usual, apart from those newly discovered sensuous hugs and playful touches, that I dismissed as just parts of his maturing self and my being a sweet mother to him.

On occasions, when his father wasn't too close around the house, Albert and I would find ourselves invariably, but embarrassingly, stealing glances at each other. Especially, fleeting glances at quite inappropriate body parts, his and mine.

When at one time he was walking behind me as I prepared to go up to my bedroom in my night clothes, I had the feeling that he was watching the sway of my ass.

When I suddenly looked back to stare at him he turned around in embarassment. But not before my stare had dropped at his hard-on tenting his shorts.

Except perhaps for coy smiles, or a wry hint of acknowledgment in the looks on our faces, nothing was openly talked about.

I still remained prim and proper and went to church on Sundays. Nowhere in even the dirtiest part of my mind flashed the possibility of the fulfillment of a sick, sexual fantasy that my son and I continued to share in our separate private moments through the erotic touch of our mutual "love clothing."

It was really hard to explain why my son continued his fascination with my particular pink robe when he had not seen me doing it in my private moments. By contrast I always knew each time he jerked off with it and, of course, my sexual response that would follow it.

I prepared myself though for unlikely eventualities, casting scenarios, then trying to identify solutions that might solve them. Such as, if the games we were playing were to unwittingly go untamed, what would I do then? I decided I'd definitely stop them at playful kissing and touching, allowing nothing beyond that. But those various sorts of calculations were all blunders. We, or at least I, should have not played at all.

***

I never thought that "harmless" touches and naughty but trivial glances could turn so hot that my son and I would end up in an unforeseen mating, the passion of which would turn into an absolute frenzy in ways I had never entered into before. How it happened is the story that follows this chapter.