The Evolution Of A Slut Mommy

I was a good girl, or at least I tried to be since I was 15. That was almost 19 years of my life; did I really want to throw that identity away just to satisfy my curiosity?

I decided I'd made a mistake, and that the thing to do was go home, erase that recording, and then return that nanny cam to the electronics store the next day. If I did that, there would be no real lasting damage, because being tempted to do something isn't the same as actually doing it. I felt better as I turned my car towards home.

When I got home I was going to head straight to my room and erase that recording. At least that was the plan. Maybe if Johnny hadn't just finished his workout when I got home, and maybe if I hadn't caught a glimpse of his broad back in walking up the stairs towards his room as I came through the door I would have followed my plan, but then it suddenly seemed like a better idea if I fixed dinner for Johnny. A good mother would make sure her child got a hot meal before she took care of anything else, right?

I looked in the refrigerator for awhile, but nothing looked appealing and was certainly in no shape to cook. I ended up just ordering a pizza, which was fine by Johnny. He was watching some crash bang action movie on the TV.

I joined him, but picked at my food. I should have gone upstairs at the first commercial and deleted that recording. It would have taken 10 seconds and I'd be able to mark the last few weeks down to a harmless temptation.

I didn't go upstairs at the first commercial, and I didn't go during the second one either. Suddenly the idea of what was waiting at the top of the stairs for me was kind of scary. I just sat on the couch starring at the TV without really paying any attention to it as I absentmindedly rubbed my thighs together.

When the movie was over Johnny gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and went to bed, but I stayed down stairs watching TV. Well not really watching, more just flipping from channel to channel only pausing every few minutes to glance towards the top of the stairs, towards my room, towards what was waiting for me.

Finally, after an hour of squirming on the couch I knew I couldn't put it off any longer. I turned the TV off and walked up the stairs to my room. I opened the door to my room; it was lit only by the flickering red power display on my computer. I sat down in front of the keyboard and brought up the video program. I had three simple choices; I could erase the recording, save it for later, or watch it. I moved the cursor over the erase button, but at the last second I clicked on the play button.

A part of me was shocked at what I was doing, this wasn't me; I was a good girl, but I told myself I'd just take a quick peek. I just needed to see, and then this craziness could finally end. My tongue licked a fine line of sweat that had formed on my upped lip.

For a long time there was nothing to see on the monitor. The screen was completely black because the bathroom light was off. Still I felt giddy; even if I couldn't see anything I'd crossed a line. In some way it was better not being able to see, because I was being bad without doing anything wrong. The time stretched on as I sat in my dark bedroom. I could have fast forwarded the recording but I didn't. I didn't turn it off either. I just let the event wash over me.

After a while my blouse began to feel tight. I undid the top two buttons, and before I knew it my hand was running over the tops of my breasts encased in my heavy duty support bra, leaving a trail of goose bumps and a delicious shiver down my spine.

It felt like the recording had been running for 20 minutes, or maybe it was five, I really couldn't say. All I know is it felt like a very long time. Maybe Johnny hadn't taken a shower that morning? Maybe the recording was going to just be of a dark empty room for an hour? Maybe I could walk away from this and still be a good girl?

Just then, the light came on and the camera showed Johnny stumbling into the bathroom. He looked half asleep with his adorable bed head. Without any sort of preamble my 18-year-old son turned on the shower and began to shed his tee-shirt and sweats. I didn't really get a chance to study Johnny's body before he slid into the shower; I mean aside from a peek at Johnny's ass which looked like it had been carved out of marble.

When Johnny closed the door to the shower behind him, the frosted glass made it impossible for me to tell anything specific about his body. Still I could see the silhouette of a muscular young man. The muscles of his arms and shoulders were clearly defined even through the glass. As Johnny washed his hair I could see the bunch of muscles at the base of his neck, and his vee-shaped back filled the glass.

My mouth suddenly got dry as I realized that wasn't the body of my little boy in that shower; it was the body of a man, a powerful young man. I could hear the rustle of my pants suit as I slowly rubbed my thighs together.

I suddenly pictured myself in the shower with Johnny, standing behind him; my soapy hands starting at his hips and ever so slowly running up the sides of his body until I reached his chest, where they snaked around him drawing him into a tight embrace so I could grind my bare tits into his back as I nibbled at his ear.

My one hand was now squeezing and massaging my bra encased breast, and my other hand had dropped down into my lap and I was rubbing a big hard circle on the front of my lap.

Johnny got out of the shower and dried himself with a towel. I couldn't really see anything until he stepped up to the sink when I got a clear view of Johnny's body thanks to the bathroom mirror.

Oh my god, the shadow in the shower didn't do justice to the man standing here, and don't kid yourself my Johnny was all man. There nothing boyish about the body I was staring at. There wasn't an extra ounce of fat anywhere on my baby. From his strong sexy chest, to the hard ridges of his abs that rippled down his stomach, and every inch of those rock hard muscles was covered with smooth flawless skin.

My breathing was getting ragged. I began yanking my clothes out of the way to get to the skin underneath. I'd worked my hand under my bra and was pinching and teasing my hard nipple.

I still couldn't see it. What I wanted to see, what I needed to see, because the counter completely blocked my view of Johnny from below the waist, aside from that rock hard sexy ass. I was panting in frustration. I mean Johnny was beautiful and oh so fucking sexy, but I still couldn't see his penis.

Johnny started brushing his teeth. I heard myself start to whine. He was almost done. He was going to get dressed soon, and I wasn't going to get to see it.

Or so I thought, until Johnny causally stepped back from counter and then I saw the biggest penis I'd ever seen in my life. No, that's not true, because what was hanging half-way down my son's thigh certainly wasn't a penis. Something that long and that fat had to be a cock and my Johnny had the biggest fucking cock I'd ever seen in my life. I couldn't tell you exactly how long it was, but it looked like it was at least twice as long as Gerald's little noodle dick, and I knew if I ever tried to wrap my hands around that big piece of meat, I'd need both hands to even hope to do it. Oh did I mention the best part? My Johnny wasn't even hard. That's what his cock looked like when it was soft.

Without a conscious thought, I crammed my hand into my panties and then it happened. Right as my fingers brushed over the top of my clit, Johnny reached down with his free hand and gave that beautiful fucking cock an idle pump. The orgasm that ripped through my body felt like it had come out of an electric chair. My back arched and locked into place. I had to bite my arm through my blouse to keep from screaming as the pleasure rolled over me like a tidal wave.

Eventually the pleasure subsided and I melted into my chair. I sleepily glanced up at the computer monitor, almost drunk from the endorphins sloshing around in my brain. The screen was dark. Johnny had finished his morning ablations and had left the room. The show was over and my curiosity had been more then satisfied. I should have erased the recording and tried to get back to normal. Instead I saved the recording, and set up the timer for the next day.

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Bad Girl

I spent the next day waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know, that moment when the full weight of what I'd done would come crashing down on me, and I'd dissolve into a big puddle of guilt. I mean a good girl would feel terrible about peeping on her own son, right?

I woke up 20 minutes before my alarm went off and bounced out of bed. I showered, put on my makeup, did my hair, even had breakfast, and still was out the door 10 minutes earlier then when I usually left for work. I hadn't had this kind of energy since I was 20.

Work flew by. I got done all the work that I hadn't finished the day before by ten. By two I was working on reports that weren't going to be due until next week. My personal assistant commented that she could barely keep up. I laughed and told her not to worry about it; I was just having a really good day. I sent her home two hours early and told her just to go out and have some fun.

During the ride home I wondered what would happen when I saw Johnny, when I looked him in the eye, face to face. Would that be when the guilt would come crashing down?

Johnny wasn't home when I pulled up in the driveway. He'd gone to the library to study after school. I went into the kitchen and fixed one of his favorite dinners, my special meat loaf with potatoes au gratin and sautéed green beans.

When Johnny got home, he poked his head in the kitchen with a hopeful look on his face. "Is that what I think it is?" He asked. I told him it was. "What's the special occasion?" He asked pleasantly confused.

"It's Tuesday, now wash your hands and set the table before it gets cold." I told him with a smile and a wink.

There's no greater joy then watching a teenage boy eat. Johnny had thirds of everything his mama made for him, and the only reason he didn't have fourths is I reminded him there was ice cream in the freezer. I've always loved watching Johnny eat, for some reason feeding my baby boy always makes me feel like a mom.

After dinner we sat down on the couch and watched one of those action movies Johnny loves so much. It was fun to just spend a quiet night with my boy and I felt totally at peace with the world when he gave me a chaste peck on the cheek and went upstairs to bed. I turned out the lights and followed my baby upstairs soon afterward.

When I got to the top of the stairs I realized I wasn't going to feel guilty about what I had done. My peeking on Johnny didn't make me a bad girl, I rationalized to myself. I cared for my son and loved him as much as any other mother, and as long as Johnny didn't find out about my peeking, what would be the harm? I was sure that in a couple of weeks I'd be over this little phase of my life and things could get back to normal.

I closed my bedroom door and walked across the room to my desk. I didn't feel guilty as I sat down, but I have to admit I was a little bothered to find out I wasn't quite the good girl I'd always thought I was.

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My life drifted into a routine over the next two weeks: work, trips to the gym three times a week, dinner with my Johnny, and rubbing my pussy raw at my computer every night before I went to bed. Granted that wasn't a normal routine, but it was my routine, and I liked it.

I couldn't get enough of Johnny's body. His powerful chest, broad tapered back, ripped abs, bulging biceps, I drank it all in with my eyes every night. It was like a drug. And then there was Johnny's cock. That delicious slab of man meat, just a glimpse of it would have me gasping towards an orgasm as I imagined my hand, or sometimes, even my mouth wrapped around that massive, powerful tool.

Everything was fine, wonderful, but towards the end of those two weeks, I noticed something. I was getting antsy, edgy, I needed something more. I needed to see my baby boy's cock hard. Granted most mornings when Johnny stumbled into the bathroom to relieve himself and take a shower he probably still had about half of his "morning wood," but that wasn't enough any more. I wanted to see that trouser snake engorged, standing straight up, ready for action. No, I wanted even more. I wanted to see my baby's dick in action. I wanted to see my boy wrap one of those big strong hands around that pillar of cock meat and pound it until he spewed out a gallon of his thick yummy teenaged boy cream.

This should have been my wakeup call that as a responsible adult I was way over the line, but as you may have noticed I wasn't feeling very responsible at the time. What I was feeling was incredibly horny, which is probably why I had no real hesitation when I moved my nanny cam from Johnny's bathroom to his bedroom.

I went up to room that night after I'd moved the camera to see what was waiting for me in Johnny's bedroom. This was completely different then my bathroom recordings. For starters I didn't know when the magic event would take place so I had to set the camera up to record for pretty much the entire time Johnny would be awake, from 7 AM to 11 PM. I had decided to fast forward through the day until I found what I was looking for. Even fast forwarding I was in front of my computer for a solid 20 minutes and I was shocked by what I saw, nothing. Well Johnny put on his clothes at the beginning of the day and took them off at the end, and he seemed to spend a lot of time at his computer (which I couldn't see from this angle), but there was no hanky panky going on in my boy's room. Needless to say I was disappointed. I decided it just hadn't been my night and went to bed without even my normal relief.

The next three nights had the same exact results, leaving me completely confused. I had a healthy 18-year-old son at his sexual peak but who according to what my camera was recording wasn't masturbating. It didn't make any sense, and as the woman who did Johnny's laundry and washed a minimum of six pairs of cum stained briefs, and several stiff hand towels every week I knew for a fact it wasn't the case. He wasn't masturbating in the bathroom, or his bedroom; I had no idea what was going on.

In the end the answer was so obvious I literally slapped myself on the forehead. It took about a week, but finally at the end of a recording I noticed Johnny pulling up his pants as he walked away from his computer. Why would my baby need to pull up his pants if he was working on his computer? It was right after I asked that question that the head slapping started.

Where else would my Johnny go looking for sexual relief, but the porn dispenser his mother had thoughtfully left on his desk? I was still calling myself a moron when I went to sleep.

The next day while Johnny was out in the garage lifting weights, I slipped into his room and moved the camera to give mommy a clear shot of his desk and computer and waited for later that night to see if I'd gotten in right this time.

When I sat down at my computer that night the butterflies in my tummy were going crazy. I need to see my baby's cock so bad it was driving me crazy. I turned on the program and hit the fast forward.

It was only a couple of minutes before the lights came on in the room Johnny sat down in front of his computer, and turned it on. I clicked on a button and began watching the tape at a regular speed. As Johnny's computer booted up he pulled his sweats down to his ankles.

So much for any late night studying I thought to myself as I sat in front of my glowing computer monitor rubbing my thighs together,

I watched Johnny click his mouse a few times as he absentmindedly rubbed the front of his fully packed briefs. Because of the glare from the screen, I couldn't see what Johnny was looking at, but judging by the way the head of his dick slowly peeked out the top of his underwear I could tell he liked it. I tore my eyes away from the hard piece of meat I'd been lusting after and looked at Johnny's face.

Johnny looked different then he normally did which sounds strange because he was just sitting there with a little grin on his face, but he looked different. Normally Johnny's grin looked cute or even mischievous, like a little boy, but this was different. Johnny's grin was almost a sneer. It was the look of a man on the hunt who liked what he saw. I felt my pussy flooded just seeing that look on my baby's face.

Johnny reached down and with no ceremony pulled his briefs down to the floor and that is when I got my first clear look of the night at my baby boy's huge fucking cock. When he sat back up in his chair it slapped against his stomach. The shaft was long straight and thick. Oh my god it was thick, I guessed with my two little hands I'd barely be able to wrap them around that hot slab off man muscle. Even in the image on my monitor I could see a couple of large veins running up the length of that massive fuck stick all the way to the bulbous head jutting a good three inches past his belly button.

Johnny reached into a drawer on his desk and pulled out a brown bottle. A random silly thought flashed through my head; so that's where my extra bottle of hand cream had disappeared to. I watched Johnny pour out a large dollop of the thick white cream and grease up that huge bulging prick from the base of his dangling balls all the way up to the tip of that huge mushroom head.

I leaned back into my chair, not relaxing, because every muscle in my body was straining and on edge; I leaned back to give myself room to cram my hand into my panties. I soon as my hand wormed into those full cotton panties, I noticed I had completely soaked the front panel with my juices. My fingers pushed down through my bush, it was like a swamp, and began rubbing the lips of my needy little snatch.

Johnny was running his big fist up and down the long shaft of his cock, but it wasn't the way I imagined him doing it. I'd always pictured a teenaged boy's self pleasure to be frantic and almost clumsy, but Johnny was anything but clumsy. Johnny's hand ran smoothly up and down the length of his rigid shaft, all the way to the very tip. Whenever his big fist got to the up to the head, Johnny would drag his thumb over the top, running it over his piss slit and smearing another big drop of precum over that cock for even more lubrication, and there was certainly nothing rushed about his actions.

Johnny's fist moved at a slow steady pace. This was no adolescent looking to rub one out. Johnny looked like a man who knew how to enjoy pleasure, and make it last. Some men went their whole lives and never learned this lesson, but my Johnny knew it and he was only 18. It was just more proof my son was a natural born stud.

I sat staring at my monitor, not even blinking an eye. I didn't want to miss a second of the recording. The only sounds in the room was the rasping sound of my breath becoming more and more ragged and the moist sticky sounds of my own fingers that were jammed deep into my sopping panties. I was hypnotized by what I was seeing on that screen just watching that hand moving up and down that slick shaft. Johnny had plenty of room for his other hand. Actually in my mind I saw my hands with Johnny's jacking that big fucking cock.

Johnny pushed back away from the desk, spread his legs wide and began to pick up his pace. I know I couldn't really see it on the monitor but I could sense that the muscles in Johnny's legs were bunched and straining. His hand was flying up and down that big piece of meat, and his other hand was down at the base holding his cock, stretching the skin tight over that throbbing dick. Johnny wasn't even looking at the screen any more, all his attention was focused on his prick.