Don't Tell Your Father

"I need your boxers," Renae said.

"What?" Brad was confused.

"The reality of sex in real life. There's still some of you inside, I need to waddle to the bathroom. I don't want to leave a trail," she was joking, partially.

Brad climbed down, his legs looking more than a bit unsteady at first, and handed his underwear over. Renae accepted them and wedged them in place between her legs. She accepted Brad's offered hand to help her down from the table, and somehow managed to accomplish her dismount without sliding through the puddle of her son's cum they had worked so hard to produce.

Renae started for the door, but saw Brad bending down to reach for his jeans.

"Are you finished for the night?" Renae asked.

Brad looked up at her with a confused expression, "Well, you said you had to go to the bathroom."

"Don't you want to watch?"

And so Brad followed her down the hall and into the bathroom. Renae sat down on the toilet seat and tossed her son's boxers into the corner. She needed to pee so damn badly, but she wanted to make sure that, if she was right about her son's taste in fetishes, Brad got to see what he needed.

"Sit there," she directed, pointing to the edge of the tub that faced the toilet.

As soon as Brad was in position, she spread her legs apart for him and opened herself up with her fingers. It felt so damn good to empty her bladder, and the thrill of letting a man watch her, letting her son watch her, made it almost feel like she was going to have another orgasm from it.

"A lot of girls don't like this," Renae explained, "But I think it's hot, letting you watch. When you do find the future mother of my grandchildren, if she doesn't let you watch her pee, I'm never further away than a video chat."

What the hell was she saying, Renae thought to herself. That's it, my brain is officially broken. I think maybe my son literally fucked my brain out. And apparently, he wasn't done yet, Renae thought, seeing her son growing hard again before her eyes. He was actually bold enough to start stroking himself for her as she finished urinating.

"Lay down on the floor for mommy," Renae said, "But don't stop stroking it."

As her son did what she said, Renae stood up and positioned herself so she was standing with one leg on either side of his head. She looked down at him, saw him shifting from staring at her vagina, to her tits, to her face. She settled down on top of him, giving him permission and access to her sex as her own hands replaced his around his cock. His tongue had already begun eagerly lapping at her. In the moment before she closed her mouth around him, Renae thought to herself how much she had missed being with a younger man. Then, almost as an afterthought, she heard herself say,

"Don't tell your father."