Broken Shoulders

Except I couldn't think of another word beginning with F that would have fitted the sentence. Then I found one "... I'd further like to apologise for staring."

There, it wasn't what I first thought he was going to say. Except that again, deep down I didn't believe that for one second. But boy I was feeling a lot better about myself than I did when I got in the shower. I remembered the dildo and reached out to grab it from under the towel. I gazed at it lovingly, which sounds daft now. But a girl has to do what a girl has to do so I took a few measurements then planted the sucker onto the shower tile so that it was at the ideal height.

I began washing myself with the soapy sponge, whilst casually allowing the tip of the dildo to rub between my bum cheeks and occasionally between my legs and slide along to cleft of my pussy.

In my mind I went over what my son had said, then reminded myself with a few curses that I couldn't allow myself to think about my son in a sexual way. But his compliments had been most welcome and had lifted my spirits up enough for me to feel I could at least enjoy a little bit of pleasure while I showered.

With the washing over, I reached down and spread my cunt lips. I was certainly wet, inside my pussy hole as well as outside. Leaning over slightly I reached behind with my other hand and guided the dildo to my hole. I knew I didn't want to rush things but neither could I really afford to take too much time. With a small gasp I felt the dildo at the tip of my hole and with a slow backward movement I managed to get it to slide in. God it felt glorious, it wasn't the biggest or the thickest but it just felt fantastic. I pushed back a bit more and grunted lowly as the feeling of an orgasm immediately popped up in my tummy. My orgasms usually all brewed up in my tummy, I guess it's different for every woman. My massive orgasms however, start in another place and that's for another day.

I was content, as I slid the rest of the way down the plastic cock and began to breathe heavily -- feeling quite impaled on the dildo. I rested a while, it may not have been big, but it filled me up enough to make me breathless for a minute. Once my breathing was back to near normal, I began to saw myself up and down on the dildo. I must have let out a low moan, and my mind whirled to remind me that my son was in the other room and was this really appropriate. It was daft of course, for me to question it. It was no different to him jerking off while I listened outside the door.

I grunted loudly, as I was now firmly impaled on this dildo, thrusting my cunt up and down the pole with renewed vigour and enthusiasm. Meanwhile my other hand strummed my clit for all it was worth. My eyes were squeezed tight in effort as I tried to bring the orgasm as quickly as I could. I began to use my imagination, and going through all the different fantasies that I had. One of them hit the mark, from a porn video I had seen a few days previous. It was an impregnation video and I was surprised at how turned on I was, watching this woman being fucked and begging the man not to cum inside her as she was not the pill.

I used that, and silently in my head began to beg my dildo not to cum inside me. It was a ridiculous and absurd fantasy I know, but it did the trick. I was so close, so close to a nice mini orgasm.

That's when Ben walked in "Mum, you all right? I heard you shout and ... oh holy fuck ..."

With horror I realised I had not locked the door and now Ben had just caught me impaled on a fucking plastic dildo. But it was about to get much worse. The interruption altered my rhythm, and my left foot slid a little on the shower floor. This effect threw my body weight back and I slid down on the dildo so that it entered me right up to the very hilt. In addition, the force sent my pussy into overdrive, and I screamed as I fucking came.

I didn't just scream. "Oh holy fuck I'm cumming ... fuck yes yes..." I wailed, unable now to hold back my lust and the inevitable orgasm that hit me.

Yes, you heard right. I came while fucking myself on a dildo as my own son watched. I couldn't have stopped, not there and not then. My legs felt weak and began to shake as they sometimes did, so I knew I had to get the dildo out of my pussy before they gave way totally.

I managed to struggle off it and then watched in abject embarrassment as the dildo began to wobble up and own as if it had a mind of its own. It would have been hilarious I'm sure had it not been for the fact that my son was still watching, his jaw dropped to the floor.

I think I asked him to leave, and he just turned and walked out without a word. I had a feeling it was something we were going to have to talk about at some point, later -- but right now, I just need to get dried, dressed and get downstairs. Most days, Ben spent his time on the bed because I had a big TV and he was able to watch all of his programs that he didn't get time to watch. That day was one of those days, and I was so grateful for it although, in hindsight I guess I'll never know if it was to watch TV or to avoid having to talk about what he'd just witnessed.

But it was inevitable I guess, that at some point we were going to have to talk about it. So about 4 days later, I had a couple of glasses of wine in preparation and then called Ben down to the lounge. It would have been easier had I gone to see him in the bedroom, but I was aware that it would be just a few feet away from where it had happened, and it wasn't conducive to a frank and open discussion that I wanted to have. During those 4 days I had done some research, and quite frankly what I had discovered had worried me. It concerned me to the point that I had resolved to draw a line under it all and told myself to stop being so stupid and that any further sexual interaction with my son was a definite No.

I wanted to explain this to Ben, to stop any sexual thoughts he may have about me. I wanted him to understand how dangerous it was, and what was at risk. So first of all, I told him I wanted to talk about the blow job I gave him, and I told him it was wrong of me. I told him that, nice though it was at the time -- it was wrong of me, and I should have just given him a hand job. I explained that, while that would still be viewed as 'wrong' it would be seen as a medical requirement. After all, as I had read -- Nurses sometimes did it for men in hospital.

Then I spoke about the shower, and I told him I was proud of him for the way he conducted himself. I told him that it was unfortunate, what he'd seen me do in the shower. I apologised for what he'd seen do but deliberately didn't apologise for what I'd been doing. I didn't want him thinking masturbation was bad, and neither did I want him to think that women didn't do it, nor that in fact his own mum didn't sometimes do it. I went on to say that masturbating was a normal and natural act and that everyone did it, including mums.

Ben nodded as I recall, then smiled and said that it was no different to me listening and watching him jerk off, which he claimed he knew I had done. Well, you can imagine I was a bit taken aback. Firstly, I wasn't 'listening' and I told him so. There's a difference between hearing and listening I explained, but Ben just smiled back unconvinced. I was about to tell him that I had just walked by his room and heard him, but I had never watched him. But with horror I realised that was a lie.

It was a year or so ago, and I'd returned home early. I found the house quiet and nobody around, so I went upstairs to get changed out of my work clothes. That's when I'd first heard the groaning and realised it was coming from Ben's bedroom. As I approached, I saw that the door was open and through the small gap I could see Ben on the bed masturbating. From that angle, I couldn't really see his hand on his cock, but it was fairly obvious that was what he was doing.

My initial reaction was to just pull the door closed, but then realised he'd know I'd seen him and that would embarrass him. Then I heard him groan a little louder and shout that he was coming. I should have walked away right then, yes, I know. But I didn't. Instead I stayed and watched as a huge arc of cum flew into the air and landed on the bedsheets. I immediately felt guilty, that I'd intruded on my son's privacy. I wasn't aware then, that he was aware of my presence and indeed that knowing I was watching was what sent him over the edge.

I told him that it had only been that one time, and I hadn't really seen anything that night. But the guilt immediately rolled back over me, and it felt like that moment all over again. I knew it was natural to jerk off, and for women to fap -- I think that's what they call it these days. I also knew that it was unavoidable for these sorts of things to happen, where someone sees something they probably shouldn't.

Finally, satisfied that we were clear about the masturbation and the plastic dildo incident I changed the subject subtly because I decided I wanted to find out a bit more about what Ben was going to say, when we were in the shower together. I don't know why, maybe it was the wine. It was such a dangerous subject and yet in light of what we had just been discussing I felt I might actually get an honest if slightly awkward answer.

I asked him if he remembered the shower, and what he had tried to say. Ben immediately blushed and I knew that he did, so I asked him what it was he was going to say. I even reminded him of the words.

"Mum. You're not old or disgusting. You are so very Se ..." and "Mum, I'm sorry for staring at your pussy but it's not horrible, it's fantastic. It's absolutely gorgeous and I'd fu ..."

Ben immediately went all defensive, asking why I needed to know and could I not just forget it. Well of course, I couldn't just forget it could I. I told my son that I did have a suspicion about what he was going to say but that I really needed to hear it from him. I'm not sure now, why I pressed him so hard -- I told myself back then that I just wanted clarity and openness, but I don't really think that was why.

I do remember thinking that if he was going to say what I suspected, then I had to make it absolutely clear to him that it could never happen. Despite my earlier desire and excitement at the thought, the few days after the dildo incident had given me pause for thought. I read up on the internet, about some real life incest cases and about how they had been dealt with by society and by the law. It was brutal. Lives ruined, jobs lost, relationships broken, and families torn apart -- even suicide in some cases.

Social media can be brutal sometimes, especially in a small town where everyone sort of knows someone who knows someone etc. It only takes a post or two here and there, a couple of innuendos and then people start asking awkward questions -- not to your face of course, but the cowardly way behind anonymous posts and comments.

In a couple of the cases I read about, jail time was involved. And even though it was a suspended sentence in some cases, the people involved now had a criminal record. That particular thought chilled me to the bone. Ben wanted to be an Engineer, he had such high hopes. With one more year of his Uni degree to complete, several large companies had more or less told him that if he gets the results they need he'd be offered an apprenticeship.

I knew that if any of this got out, his entire future was at risk and that more than anything else, scared me witless. I couldn't live with myself knowing that I'd allowed my own lust and desires to ruin my son's life. I told him all this, looking him directly in the eye as I did so. I told him that if he did have any desires or intentions toward me then they had to be stopped. I kept my tone relaxed but firm and serious, as I told him I needed to hear it from his own mouth.

Did I believe all that? What do you think -- of course not. My heart was pounding, my mind whirling at the thought of getting my own son to admit that he wanted to fuck me. I mean, yes I was concerned about my son's future and I really didn't want to ruin it. But I told myself I just wanted to hear him say it. Then I could explain to him, and to myself why it must never happen.

Ben blushed and I could see the awkwardness in his eyes, almost as if he wished he hadn't said it. He thought for a brief moment, darting his eyes away for a second before fixing his gaze back on me. I could see, his face clouded in doubt and uncertainty. But there was something else, he was weighing up how much to admit to. And then, he gave me this amazing look that told me it was true (that he wanted to fuck me).

That look, and without warning my fucking pussy just gushed. I mean it just gave out a huge squeeze and soaked my panties totally. So much for my research, my resolve and all the self-control I had built up. So much for all the logical and moral reasons I had just explained to him. My fucking pussy had betrayed me.

I recall I blushed, and Ben smiled wanly, then admitted that he was going to say "It's absolutely gorgeous and I'd fuck it if you weren't my mum ..."

My heart sank, it felt like the bottom had fallen out of my world. Honestly, I can't even explain it to you here, and even now I feel the pangs of abject disappointment and devastation. I realised that I had leapt to the idea that my son was going to say he wanted to fuck me, not realising that he was going to put that caveat on it. And that caveat changed everything.

How could I have been so stupid? How could I have leapt to such a conclusion? I'd allowed my own sexual feelings and desires to dictate how I thought my son wanted to interact with me. I was instantly consumed with guilt, inwardly I berated myself over and over, cursing myself.

Whether Ben saw the confusion and disappointment on my face, I don't know. But he got up and coughed awkwardly before excusing himself and going upstairs. I barely noticed he'd gone. I felt so foolish and stupid, I told myself I was just a sad & lonely pervert who was desperate for any cock. I screamed at myself because of how close I had come to ruining my son's future. I ridiculed myself that I was so undesirable and unattractive that I couldn't get a decent cock and that even my own son had rejected me. Over and over in my head, I played the last few words 'if you weren't my mum'.

It was a small comfort and I told myself he'd only said it to make me feel better. My son didn't want to fuck me, and I should have felt happy and content. It was the right and proper response, and I should have been proud that he was a normal balanced and decent human being. Instead I was crying my eyes out because he didn't want to fuck me. It was insanely stupid to the point of total idiocy.

I drank a lot that night, perhaps 3 bottles of wine. The more I drank, the more depressed I got about the whole situation. I must have eventually passed out because I woke up on the sofa the following morning, a blanket covering me. My head hurt like the mother of all hangovers and I barely managed to sit up before the pangs of nausea kicked in. I closed my eyes and tried to let the nausea subside. That's when the memory of the previous night came flooding back.

Eventually I managed to get up and go to the kitchen to fix myself a coffee, then I sat down at the table and ruminated. At least it was all out in the open now, I consoled myself. I just needed to make sure I kept all my sexual desires in check. We had 2 weeks left before Ben was hopefully out of his plaster cast and then things might return to some sort of normality. I told myself that I just needed to get through the next 2 weeks, that was all.

The next day I took Ben in for his first x-Ray, to check his shoulder alignment. At the hospital, while he was having the x-ray, I saw the physio nurse that we had spoken to previously. I pulled her aside and asked for a bit of advice, then I told her that my son had been having frequent 'erections' when I was applying the cream.

In my best concerned motherly tone, I asked if it was safe and right for me to alleviate them for him. I really didn't want to give any inclination of the pleasure I had received in doing it, nor that I had used my mouth. The nurse smiled knowingly and nodded, telling me it was quite acceptable to do so. She then added, that from a medical perspective it was important to do so because infrequent or delayed ejaculation can cause male infertility, as well as other complications in a man so young.

That made me feel a whole lot better, I remember the huge feeling of relief I had as I left the hospital. I do remember briefly considering whether I should push the nurse further and ask if it was acceptable to give a blow job rather than a hand job -- but thankfully I had the good sense not to.

The next few days were good. The X-rays had shown the bones healing well and there was no reason why Ben would not be out of his cast in 2 weeks or so. I had received validation that I was doing the right thing for my son in alleviating his erections, all be it I had used my mouth that one time. Since then, he had not asked, and I had not offered.

His showers were quick and clinical, I remained naked for practical purposes and I showered separately, making sure the door was closed. If Ben had any erections, I didn't really see them. He had one wet dream, as I recall and I cleaned it up with a towel. We rarely spoke about anything that had a sexual connotation and everything seemed to be back on an even keel.

One morning, I woke up quite excited (and horny) because in going to sleep the previous night I remembered that my new toy was to be delivered the next day. I went to sleep dreaming and fantasying about how that 17 inch fist would feel in my pussy, and just how much of it would I be able to take.

I knew my spoilt brat of a daughter would be out of the house, as she often was for days on end and Ben had arranged to go to the pub with his mates for a couple of hours. I went about my day merrily considering what I would need for that evening's session. Plenty of lube, I giggled to myself as I considered where I would masturbate. My own bedroom? Ben's bedroom? The lounge? I decided I would see how the mood took me.

But as the day wore on to mid-afternoon, there had been no delivery and my enthusiasm was beginning to wane. By the time it got to 6 o'clock I was livid. Not only had there been no delivery, but my daughter had changed her mind about going out. If I was going to masturbate, it would have to be in my own bedroom, the lounge was a definite no and Melanie would question why I was spending so much time in Ben's room.

Not only that, but I would have to use my 'old' toys. Somehow, they didn't instil the same excitement and desire in me anymore. Not even the one that my son had seen me impale myself on. I don't know if other women feel like this, but sometimes when I know I'm going to masturbate I usually have everything laid out in my mind. The location, the toys, the aromatic candles. Now 2 of those decisions had been forced on me and it felt like it wasn't my choice anymore. I know that sounds stupid, but I'd got myself so fixated on using the fist and I just felt like there was little point in masturbating now, because I wasn't going to enjoy it as much without the fist.

That night, I tried. Laying on my bed naked, the door closed and locked I began. I started with my little vibrator and used the tip to run across my chest, teasing my nipples erect. I ran the vibrator between the valley of my tits, fantasying that it was a stranger's hand. I ran it down over my tummy, and stopped just above my clit, teasing myself. I ran it down my thighs and then agonisingly back close to but not touching any part of my pussy.

I lifted my hips and sort of slid the vibe along the cleft of my backside, again being careful not to touch my pussy. At this stage, it was all going well, and I was getting quite aroused, and wet. I put the vibe down and picked up a dildo. It wasn't terribly large, maybe 6 inches or so. I brought it to my mouth as if I was giving it a blow job and imagined the stranger stood in front of me as I did so. The stranger didn't have a 'face' as I recall. I deliberately wanted him to stay a stranger. In hindsight now, I guess it was to minimise the risk of having my son's face pop in there.