Just Another Day Pt. 01

"Eric, honey, where are you? Oh there you are." My mother said walking into the house, "You didn't get started without me, did you?"

"No mom," I said, "Just getting warmed up for you."

I was sitting on the couch, naked, cock in hand.

"That's why you're my good boy." she said smiling, as she shrugged out of her dress, shed her bra and panties off and came over to sit on my cock. "Now let's put that to good use."

Now you may be wondering why my mother was so cavalier about finding me masturbating and then fucking me. It all started about three months ago, but to truly answer that question we need to go further back.

My parents Susan and Ken met during their junior year in college and got married a year after they graduated. Two years later I came along. By that time my father was a file clerk at a nearby office, and my mother was a waitress. Things were good for a while, and then the trouble started.

When I was three, my father started having an affair with one of the women from his office, and he managed to keep things under the radar for a little over a year. But my mother's not stupid. She had her suspicions that something was up. She noticed little changes in the way my father was acting (she never told me specifics, but they were the little things you pick up on when you've been with someone for almost ten years), and after talking to her parents and her friends about her suspicions she hired a private investigator who confirmed them.

According to my mother, my grandparents, and my aunt, the divorce was UGLY. My father first tried to claim that the woman seduced him, she insisted my father instigated their relationship, but it turned out to be mutual. To this day my mother is still not sure what caused my father to forget about his wedding vows, but instead of trying to work out whatever problems he may have had with my mother, he decided that fucking a woman who was nearly ten years younger (my parents were 28 at the time, and my father's mistress was 20) was a better solution. My mother's lawyer was good, very good. After several months (my father's lawyer dragged things out), my mother walked away with a hefty chunk of change, the house, the car and full custody of me. I was five at the time. Again, according to what people have told me, my father and his mistress quit their jobs before they could be fired. Apparently the news of their affair spread through the office and the gossip went all the way up to the president. Everyone was looking sideways at the two of them, and it was disrupting the office. They moved out of town shortly after, and while the alimony and child support money kept coming in, my mother and my father had no further contact.

Because of that I never really knew my father, all I know of him is the few pictures my mother didn't have the heart to throw away. To help look after me, my mother enlisted the help of her sister (my Aunt Sabrina), and her parents for occasional babysitting. But for the most part my mother raised me by herself. She was amazing, she made sure there was a roof over my head, clothes on my back and food in my stomach. She showered me with all the love and attention she could, and always made sure I was happy and healthy. She told me I could always depend on her no matter how old I got, and she would always be there for me if I ever needed her help or advice.

For the next few years, mom and I led a pretty normal life. Mom eventually quit her waitressing job, and used some of the settlement money to go into business with a couple of her friends to open a bakery. When I started college I went to school close to home (the college campus was literally a twenty minute walk away), and mom was glad to have me around for a while longer. Once I graduated and started to try and figure out what I wanted to do with my life, mom let me stay with her until I was ready to go out on my own.

I guess I never described my mother. Imagine an even sexier version of Gates McFadden from "Star Trek: The Next Generation". That's mom, except she has a bigger rack, and in my personal opinion is better looking. She has good genes too, as she barely looked her age. At fifty, she looked at least 10-15 years younger, and took good care of herself with a healthy diet and daily workouts. As I got older, especially into my teens, I started to realize how gorgeous my mother really was, and how much of an idiot my father was to cheat on a woman that looked like her.

As for me, well I'm no Wil Wheaton, but I like to think I'm a good looking guy. The girls did too. They weren't falling over each other to date me, but I never had trouble getting a girlfriend. Between junior high and my last girlfriend (and I'll get to her in a moment) I dated 6 girls in total (I don't count the "girlfriends" I had in elementary school), but only slept with 4. I moved out of mom's house once I got a job and was able to support myself. After only a couple of years, through no fault of my own, I ended up losing my job and was having trouble finding a new one. I was slowly running through my savings until it got to the point where I couldn't afford the rent on my apartment anymore. With no other choice I turned to mom and asked if I could move back home until I could get back on my feet again. Mom welcomed me back with open arms and told me I could stay as long as I needed to.

Not too long after that I met Lauren, and that turned out to be the biggest fucking mistake of my life, she was one of the most toxic people I ever had the displeasure of meeting. Like most relationships it started off pretty good. But things quickly started to go sour. First off she constantly poked fun at me for living with my mother at 25 even after I explained why, and that I was trying to get financially stable again so I could move back out. Then there were her "jokes" at my expense, they started out fairly innocent and light hearted, but got more mean spirited and personal as time went on. I tried to brush it off, because there was a part of me that still liked her. Then there was the big one. I had a group of four friends that I got together with about 2-3 times a month and the five of us would go out, maybe grab a beer or play some pool or go bowling. You know, guys night out. Lauren hated this and had no problem letting me know. She often tried to talk me into spending time with her instead, but if I was already out with the guys, she would either call or text me constantly (until I turned my phone off) or make me feel guilty for spending time with them afterwards. She always talked shit about them, making it abundantly clear that she didn't like them or how much time I spent with them (which was no more than 9 hours a week). On the other hand, whenever she wanted to spend time with her girlfriends, even if we had plans, she would drop everything to go have a girls night out. And she would spend almost twice as much time with them than I spent with the boys.

When I tried to argue the double standard with her, it led to a huge argument where she claimed the only reason I was going out with the guys was so I could cheat on her. I mean, yeah, I checked out beautiful girls when I hung out with the guys, we all did, but as one of my friends put it "I can look at the menu, but I can't order anything." One of my other friends pointed out that if she was so adamant that I was cheating, it meant she probably was. So I turned things around and accused her of cheating on me. She vehemently denied it of course, and again accused me of cheating on her. I never found out if she was cheating or not because we broke up immediately after and I never saw her again. Total time of our relationship, three months. I wonder if she ever really had feelings for me, because in hindsight, I don't think she did. It makes me wonder why we even dated in the first place. I guess I'll never know. There's a small part of me that wonders what's going on in her life now, and then there's the more rational part of me that doesn't care.

That leads to three months ago. About a week after I broke up with Lauren, mom was at work and I was sitting at home watching TV before I realized I was procrastinating and should get back to job hunting. I turned the TV off and headed up to my room, which mom had turned into the guest bedroom after I first moved out, but became mine again when I came back. I fired up my laptop, logged on and was about to go on a job hunt but couldn't concentrate. Like most guys, I had a sudden erection. I knew there was only one solution. I needed to rub one out. Getting rid of my raging erection would help clear my head, and since I currently didn't have a girlfriend to call, the only way to relive that tension was to take matters into my own hands.

I went to my bed, because laying there was more comfortable than trying to jerk off sitting up in my computer chair. I used my phone to get online and went to my favorite porn site. I pulled my rock hard prick out and started stroking it as I watched some of my favorite porn stars going at it. I was so caught up in furiously beating my meat I didn't realize mom had come home. Not until it was too late.

"Eric, are you home honey?" I heard her voice from down the hall, and it snapped me out of my trance. Before I had time to shut off the video or pull my pants up, mom was in my doorway, "Oh, Eric, I'm so sorry!"

After a second mom backed out of my room, closing the door behind her, I was laying there with a ball of ice in my stomach, my dick wilting in my hand and my heart beating a million miles an hour. No guy, no matter how old he is, wants to get caught masturbating by his mother. My will to jack off gone now, I stopped the video, pulled my pants back up, and shut off my phone. I just sat there on the bed embarrassed and unsure of what to do. I eventually went back to my laptop and started job hunting. I didn't think I could face mom after that. A couple hours later there was a soft knock at my door.

"It's okay mom," I said, "You can come in."

Mom poked her head in, "I just wanted to let you know dinner's ready."

I shut down my computer and headed downstairs for dinner. Mom and I sat and ate in an uncomfortable silence.

"So have you found a new job yet?" mom asked, deciding to break the silence.

"Nothing yet," I said, "Put in a few applications but haven't heard anything back yet. I put in a couple more today, so I'll just keep my fingers crossed that something comes up soon."

"You know, you could still come and work at the bakery." Mom said.

Even before I got my job, mom had been trying to talk me into working at the bakery with her. She brought it up after I lost my job and when I moved back in, but I always refused, feeling it would be weird to work for my mother.

"Mom, we've talked about this," I said, "It's bad enough I had to move back in with you, I don't want to be working for you too."

"Eric, I told you before, I don't mind if you stay here," she said, "You're my son, and it's my job as your mother to take care of you, no matter how old you get. Even if that means living with or working for me. But I have a feeling this isn't about our living arrangements or your job situation. Are you embarrassed about what happened earlier?"

"Mom..."

"Oh come on now, masturbation is perfectly normal." she said. "You think you're the only guy who's ever been caught by his mother?"

"No." I said, "But that doesn't make it any less embarrassing. The last person I expect to see me naked is my mother."

"You used to run around the house naked when you were a baby." mom said. "And I can't count how many dirty diapers I had to change, and who do you think bathed you until you were old enough to do it yourself? Me, that's who. I've seen you naked plenty of times."

"Yeah, when I was a baby. I've grown up since then." I said.

"You sure have."

"MOM!"

We dropped the subject, and finished dinner in another awkward silence. We cleaned up and I headed back up to my room, fired up my PS4, and picked up from my last save point in the game I'd been playing. Eventually mom came upstairs and poked her head in my room.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure, mom," I said, pausing the game.

Mom came in and sat on the edge of my bed. "Look honey, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. Sometimes it's hard to admit you've grown up and don't need me as much as you used to."

"It's not that I don't need you mom..." I started to say, but she held up her hand.

"Let me finish," she said, "Sometimes I look at you and think back to the little boy who I had to raise on my own. The little boy who would ask me to tuck him in at night, climb into bed with me when there were thunderstorms, who used to ask me to make him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and would depend on me for everything. Then suddenly, somewhere along the line, that little boy grew up, became a self-sufficient teenager, and from there into the man you are today. I miss that little boy."

"I still need you mom," I said, "And I'm grateful for everything you've done for me. I know all the sacrifices you made after the divorce, and I appreciate everything you've done for me, but as much as I still need you, I don't want to feel like a burden when I do need help."

"A burden?" Mom said, genuinely shocked, "Eric, you're not a burden. You never have been, and you never will be. You're my son, my pride and joy. When the doctor told me I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I never once had second thoughts or regrets about becoming a mother. Well, except for the morning sickness... and the 12 hours of labor... but aside from that, no regrets." She laughed, smiled at me and gently stroked my cheek, "Eric, I love you more than anything else in this world. I will always be your mother, and you will always be my son, and nothing can take that away from us. Remember that."

"I love you too, mom." I said, smiling back at her.

She leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. Then she stood up and started to leave the room.

"Oh, and if you're going to do... you know... that. Remember to close the door." she smiled again and left the room, closing the door behind her.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and eventually mom poked her head in to tell me she was going to bed. That was nothing new, she always let me know when she was grabbing 40 winks so I wouldn't make too much noise if I decided to stay up. It's what she was wearing that was unusual.

When she got home from work Mom usually wore a t-shirt and either pj bottoms or shorts, which she'd also sleep in. This time however, she was wearing a pale blue silk nightgown that I had never seen before. It showed off a decent amount of cleavage and leg.

Despite myself I felt the blood flowing to my lower abdominal area, and openly gaped at mom for a second before moving my eyes from her cleavage to her face and said a flustered goodnight. Did I see a smirk on her face when she closed the door? Nah, I must be imagining it, but what I wasn't imagining was the boner in my shorts. I found myself thinking back to when mom caught me earlier. Did she pause for a moment before she closed the door when she caught me? Was she openly staring at my dick before she left the room? The image of her standing in my doorway in her sexy nightgown was still fresh in my head. I could see the gentle curves of her huge breasts outlined in the fabric, and maybe it was just my imagination but were her nipples erect? I couldn't help it, I pulled my cock out and started stroking myself to two mental images, one of mom's face when she caught me, and her standing in the door just seconds ago. The second image won out as I stroked my now rock hard cock. My imagination took over.

"There's my little boy," mom said, "I love you so much Eric. And I'll always need you."

In my imagination I was jerking off just like I was in real life. Mom wasn't just watching, she was enjoying the show. "Don't stop on my account." she said, even though I hadn't. In fact, I picked up the pace.

Mom started to cross the room and I lost it. I grunted quietly as I exploded before the mental image of my mother could even get to me. I grit my teeth, squeezed my eyes shut, bucked my hips and bit back a cry of pleasure as I came. For several pleasurable seconds I furiously jacked my cock until I was dry. When I settled down, I looked at the mess I'd made.

"Holy fuck..." I mumbled.

I'd shot cum all over my stomach, up onto my shirt, on my arm, and even some onto the bed next to me. It was, for all intents and purposes, the most intense orgasm I'd ever had in my entire life.

"She's my mother. What is wrong with me?!" I asked myself as I lay there, my dick slowly deflating.

I looked at my cum covered hand and then to my t-shirt and shrugged, I figured since the shirt was already stained I might as well use it to clean up. So I pulled it off and used it to clean up the mess. Even though I did my own laundry I decided to be cautious. I buried the shirt and my underwear in the bottom of my laundry basket before putting on clean shorts and another shirt and going to bed. When I woke up the next morning, mom had already left for work.

I grabbed a quick breakfast, headed back upstairs to take a shower, got dressed and called a couple of my friends. I needed to get out of the house for a bit. My friends came by and picked me up and we spent the day just hanging out. I got home as late afternoon became early evening, not too long after mom had gotten home. I found her in the living room watching TV. She was wearing her usual combo of a t-shirt and a pair of pj bottoms.

"Hey mom," I said, casually.

"Hi sweetie," mom said, turning to smile at me, "Come sit with me for a minute."

"Let me just change my clothes real quick." I said.

I headed up to my room, the events of yesterday running through my head. Mom catching me masturbating, the possible pause before she left the room, and the sexy nightgown she wore to bed. I kicked off my sneakers, changed out of my jeans to a pair of shorts, and changed my sweat stained shirt for a clean one. I headed back downstairs and sat on the couch next to mom, watching one of the trashy afternoon talk shows she'd recorded while she was at work.

"Why do you watch this crap mom?" I asked, after watching for a minute.

"Because I know that no matter how bad I might think things could go in my life, I'm not them." She said, laughing, "I know who your father is, even if I do I hate him, you're not a drug addict who's stealing from me, you don't have 17 illegitimate children, or one of the hundred other ridiculous topics they have on these shows."

I found myself watching and laughing along with her at the ridiculous (and obviously staged) show. After it was over she switched over to something else. I adjusted the way I was sitting because my leg was falling asleep. Mom also changed the way she was sitting and patted her lap.

"Why don't you rest your head in my lap, honey?" she said.

"Mom..." I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm not five anymore."

She patted her lap again, "Humor your old mother."

I sighed, "Fine. But just for a minute."

"Remember how much you used to like this when you were little?" she asked, gently stroking my hair.

When I was little, from the time I was four probably up until around the time I was nine or ten years old, I used to like resting my head on mom's lap while I watched TV. Especially on the weekends when she would watch cartoons with me. She'd stroke my hair and sometimes tickle me.

"Are you still ticklish?" she asked.

"Don't you dare, mother!" I said, laughing.

"I'm sorry, honey," she said, "I just miss this."

I looked up and could barely see her face past her enormous tits. Just for a moment I found myself fascinated by the way they filled out the shirt, and I could tell she was definitely not wearing a bra.