Loving Jason

Still, though, at 19 years old, I had never seen my son with a girl. Or even a guy for that matter. I would have been fine if he was gay. A little disappointed about my hopes for grandchildren, but he could always adopt. Hell, I had never seen him with a friend. There were people that came by the house to speak with him, but I always got the distinct impression that those were more customers than friends. But the fact that he wasn't showing any sexual interest was starting to disturb me. Then again, my own sexual interests had been relegated to all things battery powered for the last few years.

But this wasn't about me, it was about my son. So I decided to do what any loving mother would do, I snooped. Or I attempted to. I took a day off from work, and thirty minutes after he left I walked into his room.

"Hello Mrs. Davon."

I jumped out of my skin at the female voice that came out of nowhere. The television and all his computer monitors suddenly came on. There was a pretty woman with a silver face and short black hair looking at me. I moved and her eyes followed me. All of them, from different angles.

"How may I help you, Mrs. Davon?"

"What are you?"

"I am Virtue." Somehow she seemed familiar. Something about her face and her voice, but I couldn't place it.

"But what are you?"

"An assistant program created by Andrew Davon."

"How did you know who I was?"

"I have access to facial recognition software as part of my programming."

"But you knew when I came in?"

"There is a camera on the wall there." She pointed straight to it. As impressed as I was, I was also a little scared to think of how easily she was able to communicate with me. How lifelike she was. And I still couldn't get past the idea that I knew her somehow. "Is there something I can assist you with, Mrs. Davon?"

"I was looking for Andrew," I lied. Do you have any idea how ridiculous I felt, lying to my son's computer?

"According to his schedule, he is on his way to Advanced Language Theory right now and he has two other classes scheduled today. He won't be home for approximately 5 hours and 18 minutes if current traffic patterns hold."

Wow. "Okay, I'll see him then."

"Would you like me set an appointment for that in his reminders?"

"No, but thank you."

"Very well, Mrs. Davon. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, that will be all," I said as I left the room. I had the distinct feeling that I wouldn't be doing any snooping while "Virtue" was around.

I was lying on the couch reading the latest issue of a mental health journal when Andrew came home. "What is virtue," I asked him as he sat his book bag down.

"Is this a philosophical question, because I haven't taken that course yet?"

"No. In your room. Virtue."

"Oh, she's my assistant program. Did something go wrong with her?" He was so honest! I loved that about my son. He never tried to hide anything from me.

"No, I was going to take you out to breakfast this morning and hadn't realized I had missed you. She surprised me is all. I didn't know I wasn't the only woman of the house anymore."

He laughed. "You're still the only woman of the house. Virtue just helps keep my schedule straight, plus she's really cool, don't you think?"

"Did you download it from somewhere?"

"No," he said, sounding almost offended. "I made her. She's very sophisticated. She's tied into my phone and my computer system. She has facial and voice recognition, full internet access, and can do pretty much anything, virtually speaking. Do you want me to make you one?"

"No thanks, honey. I was just very impressed." I let it go at that as I turned my attention back to the journal, but the idea that I recognized that woman from somewhere was still bouncing around in my mind.

It may be a horrible thing to say, but by that point in time, both my son and I had gotten use to completely ignoring my husband. He no longer had a place at the dinner table, was never consulted about anything, and we never worried about his comings or goings. We didn't even sleep together anymore. I'm not sure where he slept actually. I don't know if he used one of the guest bedrooms or just drunkenly fell off in his recliner each night. I didn't care. He didn't bring anything to the table in our relationship anymore. He didn't make any money, his looks were totally destroyed by years of alcohol, and I had long ago learned to satisfy any sexual needs I had. For some reason though, I still never cheated on him. Even though whatever might have been between us had died years ago, he was still my son's father. As worthless as he was, my son could still say he knew him and that was worth something. Not much, but something.

When Andrew was 19 he was a junior in college. I knew for a fact that he hadn't taken all the courses that were listed on his transcript though. He was hacking again. Still, I didn't say anything.

I came home early one day to find a strange car parked behind his Jag. I entered the house quietly, figuring he had another "customer" over. Andrew never told me what he was doing for all the people that came over. But he kept getting thousands of dollars in the mail, and I knew if he started talking computer with me I wouldn't get past the first three words, so I let it be. Still, a mother has the right to know what her son is doing.

I took off my heels and crept back towards his room. The door was wide open, he wasn't expecting me home for two more hours. I peeked around the doorway and was absolutely shocked at what I saw. My son was sitting at his desk, his pants down around his ankles, and had a woman on her knees between his legs. I couldn't see much of her except that she was wearing a finely cut business suit and had long black hair just like mine. Her face bobbed up and down in my son's lap as he laid back with his hand wrapped in her hair. She moved like a pro, taking him all the way to the base, and proof of her skills could easily be seen on my son's face as he moaned his pleasure.

When she pulled off him to catch her I had the proof that my little boy wasn't little anymore. He was twice the man his father had ever been. He was long and thick and was making this girl work for it to take him all the way down. Still she persevered. Up and down her head bobbed. Up and down, up and down. I could see her throat working him every time she hit bottom.

I surprised myself when I found my own hand inside my panties. I couldn't do this. I couldn't stand outside my son's room, watching this girl suck his cock, fingering myself. But I couldn't stop. And I couldn't turn away. My panties were soaked with my own juices, something that hadn't happened in years. And as hard as I tried, I couldn't stop my fingers from moving inside me, I could barely keep myself from moaning. My eyes were glued to the scene that was going on in front of me.

She came up for air again and I got another view of my son's glistening cock standing tall and erect. Strong. Hard. God, what was wrong with me?! I should have been stopping this or walking away or something, I don't know. But I did know that the one thing I shouldn't have done was start fingering myself harder! Just the sight of his dick, standing there in the air so firm and proud made me even hotter. Her mouth dropped back on him, pumping him faster and faster as her hand played with his balls. I fell to my knees as my orgasm washed through my body. I almost bit through my own lips trying not to scream out, and, somehow, they didn't hear me. Still, I couldn't leave though. My hand stayed in my pussy, lightly circling my clit. Then I saw his body tense up as he grabbed the back of her head and shoved his cock into her mouth. He shot his load down her throat and she swallowed it, all of it. And I sat there, on my knees, licking my lips in envy.

"How was that," she asked.

He turned and typed on his keyboard. "That's one A."

"And here's $2000. You would think I would get a discount after that."

"If you want a discount, find someone else to change your grades for you."

She sighed, "How much longer do we have?"

"About thirty minutes."

"Lets see if I can get another A then." She grabbed his softening dick and sucked it into her mouth.

Somehow his release had released me. I quietly stood up and walked back to the front door. Grabbing my heels off the floor, I quietly closed and locked the door and made my way back to the car. I drove around for two hours, still refusing to accept what I had just witnessed, what I had just done! I drove down any and every street, not really going anywhere, turning here and there just to give my hands something to do. The feel of my pussy soaked panties rubbing against my skin disturbed me. The smell of myself on my fingers terrified me. But the realization that thinking of my son's cock was making me wet again...

When I got home, I pretended nothing had happened. After all, how do I tell my son that I didn't approve of him hacking girls grades in exchange for money AND sexual favors? "Honey, mommy was watching you get your cock sucked today, and while I was fingering my cunt outside your door, I don't think you should be doing that." Yes, that conversation would go great.

It was an awkward night. Every time I looked at him, I found that I wasn't looking at my little boy anymore. I was looking at this handsome man that was sitting on my couch. His clothes didn't scream "money", but he was stylish. His muscles showed in even the smallest of his movements, he walked with a quiet grace. As smart as he was, when he spoke, he never tried to outshine anyone, which just showed his intelligence all the more. Every time I looked at him, I saw that girl's face in his lap, I saw his cock going in and out of her mouth. Disappearing and reappearing down her throat, her saliva glistening on his skin.

"Mom, you okay?"

"What?"

"You've been staring at me for the last five minutes."

"Oh, sorry honey, just caught up in my own mind."

"Okay, well, I'm going to my room." He bent over and kissed me on the cheek, "Night Mom."

"Good night, honey."

I couldn't sleep. I every time I closed my eyes, I saw my son's cock. And it wasn't that girl on her knees anymore. I kept imagining myself, kneeling down in front of him, worshipping his cock. The mind is a horrible thing. As I slept, alone in the dark, I remembered every single detail. Black hair bobbing up and down, the sound of a throat working to swallow that beautiful piece of man-meat, the lines on the suit...

I suddenly woke up, sitting straight up in my bed. I ran over to my closet, throwing the doors open and riffling through my wardrobe. I found it. The suit she was wearing was hanging up in my closet. She had been wearing my suit!

I walked back to my bed, but had to sleep on the other side. There was a wet spot on my side. I had to fall asleep with the smell of my pussy on my hands because I refused to wash them. If I did that, then I would have to admit that I had been masturbating in my sleep to the thought of sucking my son's cock.

I fell asleep sometime in the night. When I woke, I decided I wanted to send a message, but I didn't want him to know that I knew. I decided to wear that suit. It had been a while since I had worn it but it still fit me. It fit me better than it fit her. I had more breasts to fill out the jacket and top. And to make sure he noticed them, I left an extra button undone. The suit pants made my ass look deliciously grabbable when I paired them with my black heels. Instead of putting my hair in my usual bun, I let it hang down past my shoulders. When Andrew saw me, he choked on his cereal.

"Morning honey," I smiled at him as I walked over to the coffee machine.

He beat on his chest as he regained his composure. "Morning mom. You look great today."

"Thank you, sweetheart!" I smiled into my coffee as I noticed his eyes roving over my body. I opened the refrigerator and bent over at the hip. I wasn't looking for anything, I just wanted him to get a good look at my ass. As I stood up and looked over at him, he quickly turned his head back to his cereal. His blush began to spread as he knew he had been caught. I smiled to myself, he was still my shy little boy. I bent over and kissed him on his forehead, his eyes were locked onto my cleavage. "I'll see you tonight, sweetie." I picked up the briefcase and walked out the door.

On my way to work I chastised myself. I shouldn't have been teasing him. I should have been trying to find a way to help him turn his attention to a more attainable female. I was a married woman. I was his mother.

Throughout the day, I considered every woman I came across as a possible candidate for my son's affections. But I compared them all to me, and I always found them lacking in some essential way. She wasn't as pretty as me, her ass wasn't as nice as mine, she had daddy issues, she wasn't as smart as me. I found countless reasons why none of these women were right for my Andrew.

At lunch time, Bernie came into my office as I was looking over a new client's case file. Bernie was a handsome 23 year old gay man with his own mother issues. He was my very own therapeutic relief. He was also great eye-candy. I know at least four of my patients that had already worked through their issues. They only came so they could look at this African Adonis that I had sitting in front of my door.

He set a vase filled with beautiful tulips on my desk. "Looks like someone is having a really good day. First you come in looking all sexy, now you're getting flowers?"

I opened the card and read it aloud. Bernie wouldn't leave me alone until he knew who they were from. "Just wanted you to know I love you. – Andrew."

"That is such a sweet boy." He picked the flowers up and placed them underneath the portrait Andrew had painted for me years ago.

"I know. I'm a very lucky woman." He spent a minute adjusting the flowers and centering the vase. I admit that I was possessive over Bernie. I knew his history. Abused by his father, he left home at 13. He started working out after being viciously bullied in school for being gay. That became a habit for him. When I found him sitting outside my office for an interview, the 18 year old was attracted to men and terrified of them at the same time. It had taken years to get him past his issues and out of his shell. Now, he was 6 months away from being a married man. Every time I was promoted, I had taken him with me. He had a way about him that put everyone around him at ease.

"So what's going on today? You spice up the wardrobe, start getting flowers..."

"Nothing Detective Bernie. I needed a little pick me up, I guess Andrew picked up on that this morning."

"Is he seeing anyone? I've got a few friends that could use a man that intuitive."

"No, not that I know of." I didn't want to think of Andrew as "dating" that little slut from the other day. "I don't think he's gay though."

"Neither are they," he smiled as he walked out of my office.

I sat at my desk, fondling a small heart locket Andrew had given me for my birthday, when I looked up and gasped.

I was staring at the flowers beneath my portrait when suddenly I realized it. Virtue. She was me. She was my portrait in android form. I was younger then, and not so silver. But I could see it now. She was me. I was Virtue. And I was stunned. Andrew's talent and subtlety was stunning. How long had my son been watching me, attracted to me? And I was shocked to realize how pleased I was about this new discovery. As much as I would like to believe it was the pleasure of helping to solve my son's problem, I was honest enough with myself to admit that I liked his attention. It had been far too long since I was the object of a man's affection.

I got home an hour earlier than usual. To be honest, I was hoping to catch another show. A powerful orgasm is like a drug addiction, and I was chasing the high. I knew it, but I still left work with a huge smile when my last appointment canceled on me. I was disappointed when I pulled up to the house and only saw my son's car in the driveway. Still, I came in quietly, slipped off my heels, and crept back to his room.

I wasn't disappointed. Apparently, Andrew recorded everything that went on in his room. He was sitting at his desk, his dick in his hand, watching a video of the girl from the day before. Unlike yesterday, I wasn't surprised when I unzipped my pants and slid my hand into my panties. I was already wet. I slid two of my fingers into my cunt as I watched him stroking himself. His hand gliding along his the veins of his shaft. My shock didn't come for a few minutes.

He was still stoking himself, but not very fast. He was going slowly, building it up. Then he typed something on the keyboard and another video came on beside the video of the girl. It was us. It was a video of a Christmas party from a few years ago. We inadvertently walked under a sprig of mistletoe. Every one ooo'ed at us and I was already a little drunk. I pulled him into me and gave him a light kiss on the lips. "I love you, Andrew," came from the speakers.

He picked up the pace as his hand sped up and down on his cock. He changed all the screens to a view of the girl from behind. My voice was repeating through the speakers. "I love you, Andrew" over and over. From that view, it could have been me there, down on my knees, sucking his cock into my throat, telling him how much I loved him. And, as I stood there in the hallway, my fingers going in and out of my cunt, watching my son jack off, I wished it was.

Suddenly, it was too much. I bit my lips, I could taste the blood on my tongue, as my orgasm rushed through my body. I wanted to scream, but I didn't dare. My fingers couldn't stop moving, the orgasms were coming one after the other, the next one starting before the last one finished. I fell down hard on my knees, still playing with my pussy. My panties were soaked, my pants ruined, the air around me reeked of pussy juice. As I looked back into the room, I saw my son leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed. My voice still sounded through the speakers, "I love you, Andrew. I love you, Andrew." His hand, still wrapped around his cock, was dripping with his cum.

As I walked through the house, I realized that Ben was already sitting in his chair, half-way through a glass of scotch. I picked up my shoes and walked into my room. Stripping out of my suit, I knew I would never wear it again. It was dry-clean only and the pants were soaked in my juices. I would be too embarrassed to hand them over to Sue, the dry cleaner.

I flopped down on the bed, exhausted from my own orgasms. I thought about my flowers sitting under my portrait. I thought about how I felt this morning, knowing my son was ogling my body. I thought about the orgasms I had just experienced. I thought about standing in the hallway, fingering myself to thoughts of my son as my fat, useless husband sat just around the corner. In 24 hours, my son had made me feel like more of a woman than my husband had in the last 10 years.

I wasn't sick. I was a woman in need. And my son, my Andrew, needed me as well. I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. I was 46 years old, but I took care of myself. I could have easily passed for a woman 10 or 15 years younger. My breasts weren't as perky anymore, but they didn't sag. My face had more wrinkles than I would have liked, but I was a long way from crone-hood. My stomach was nice and flat. My ass was flatter than was popular these days, but it was still firm and tight. My legs were long and lean, supple muscle lying just under the skin.

I could rationalize it. I could tell myself everything that was wrong with what I was thinking. All the medical reasons, all the social consequences. I finally understood my most difficult patients now, because none of it meant anything to me.