I slept in and was surprised at how refreshed I felt before I again recalled my wet dream. I got up, stretched, grabbed my robe, and had a long shower.
At lunch, Joey was still asleep and I knew we were supposed to be over at the Wilkinson's soon for their annual block party barbecue, which they had every year. It was always an over the top affair with food, servants and music. I knocked on Joey's door and when he didn't answer I walked in to wake him up like I had all my life. Yet, when I walked in he was lying in his bed, completely uncovered, on his back, and his penis was fully erect in his boxers. Again, I had seen him in such attire before, but since having caught him yesterday in the act, at that moment I saw him no longer as just my son, but as a man. I froze, staring at his crotch, my head again clouded. Shaking my head, my sudden thoughts ridiculous, I moved to him and shook him awake. "Wake up sleepy-head; we have to be at the Wilkerson's in a couple of hours."
He stretched and as I glanced back at his crotch, I saw it flinch, last night's dream flooding into my head again. My pussy began getting damp again, against my will, and I gave him one more quick shake and left him so I could calm myself down.
In the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. What was happening to me? I was still quite attractive at 42 (a natural redhead, with green eyes, mostly firm 34C breasts, a tight ass and long legs), I could easily still get a man if I tried, I had rejected many overtures since Jack's death, but obviously my lack of real physical contact was beginning to have a psychological impact on me.
Did I find my son attractive? Although I had never considered it other than in a maternal way before yesterday, I had to admit he was very handsome, being a younger version of his father.
Did my son turn me on? Before yesterday such a question would have been ludicrous but my masturbation while watching him with Jane yesterday, plus my very real dream and my undeniable reaction to him almost naked this morning had me confused.
Did his rugged, dominant behaviour turn me on? It was so opposite of his father and yet so much like a couple of my ex's, the men who I had the best sex with. I loved Jack, we were great together, yet sexually the heat was never close to as hot as my college lovers. I just assumed that the difference between love and lust were prevalent in the differences in relationships. That said, hearing my son's dirty talk and his controlling attitude was an undeniable turn-on, just like it was when I was in college. I liked to be talked dirty to, be called names; it was so much the opposite of my rather dull day-to-day life and personality. I didn't want to be made love to, I wanted to be fucked, pounded, and drilled. I missed the passionate lust, the insatiable hunger of a man and a woman letting go of society's prim and proper expectations to break down the barriers and return to the carnal natural urges of humans.
I concluded as I looked at myself in the mirror that I needed to get laid...SOON!
I finished getting ready for the picnic, the thought that my son planned to fuck Jane at her own party permanently etched in my mind.
Joey came downstairs in shorts and a t-shirt dressed casually as he always was and said, after kissing me on the cheek like he always did, "Good morning, mom."
"It's afternoon," I pointed out.
He laughed, kissed my other cheek and said, "Good afternoon, Mom."
I blushed as such an innocent act like being kissed by my son was suddenly feeling taboo, even if he didn't realize it. My hands got clammy, like they did back when I was in high school and waited for my boyfriend to take my hand. The feelings were ridiculous, yet I couldn't get rid of it or the sudden butterflies in my stomach.
He said, "I'm going to meet Adam for lunch before going to the Wilkinson's."
"Ok," I said, having already decided what I planned to do next.
Once he was gone, I watched out the window to see him pull away before I went to his room to search his computer. I knew I was violating his privacy and what I was doing was wrong, but I was curious what other secrets my son might have. Being a psychiatrist, I long ago have learned that a computer is where the secret truths of all of us are. On your computer, when alone, feeling safe with no one to judge your kinks or fetishes, you can be your true self. I logged into his computer, he trusted me so much he didn't even have a password, which only made me feel guiltier at invading his privacy, breaking his trust. Yet, I had to know...it had become an obsession.
I went to his favorites and, like most boys or men, I saw a long list of porn sites. I clicked on the most recent and saw it was a MILF stockings site, the next one was a site about submissive sluts, I clicked on a few more and a pattern began to emerge: the women were usually older, they usually included pantyhose or stockings, and they often included women in submissive positions.
I decided to search his files out of curiosity and saw he had a folder called Literotica. Curious I clicked on it, and saw more folders labelled: blackmail, illustrated, group, submission and incest. I froze as I saw the word incest even as an undeniable tingle occurred down below instantly.
I moved the cursor and clicked on the incest folder and was stunned to see over a hundred stories and another folder marked 'best'. Again curious, I clicked on that folder and saw a dozen more stories, all of them with 'mom' or 'mother' in the title. A chill went up my spine at the thought of my son fantasizing about me, just as I had about him last night.
I skimmed the titles:
How to Dom Your Mom
Mom's New Owner
Mom's Progressive Submission
Mom's Leggy Attic Attack
Mom's Hidden Urges
Making Mommy Mine
I read a couple of them. Both were about a mother and son, with the son dominating at some level his mother and each of them included pantyhose or stockings, something I often wore. Before yesterday finding such information out about my son would have been alarming, yet after yesterday it only enhanced a growing desire inside me...a taboo I had never considered before...a sudden obsession to sleep with my son.
I heard the front door open and I panicked and reached down and hit the off button on his computer, knowing I didn't have time to log off properly. I quickly rushed out of his room and into mine where I returned to my mirror and stared at myself.
What was becoming of me?
Did I really want to have sex with my son?
Did he want to have sex with me?
Why can't I get these thoughts about him out of my mind?
"Mom, you still here?" He called out from downstairs.
I called back, "Yes, Joey, just finishing getting ready." I considered adding pantyhose to my attire, to turn him on more, but decided that would look absurd at an outdoor summer gathering.
After one more deep breath, I prepared for the torture that this event usually was, pretentious, fake and long.
PLAYFUL BANTER WITH MY SON
"Ready?" Joey asked, offering me his arm, a gesture he often did. I always thought it was so sweet how he always treated me with such chivalry, especially since his father's death, yet now I pondered what his real intent had been all this time.
I took his arm and asked, "Are you my date for the day?"
He was briefly taken aback by the question before he said, "I would be your date any day, Mom."
His sweetness warmed my heart and simultaneously warmed my cunt, my emotions mixed between motherly love and incestuous lust. I replied, hinting at my submissiveness, "And I would follow you anywhere, son."
Joey didn't seem to catch the slight hint as we headed out of the house and down the block. Wanting to see his reaction, I sighed dramatically during the brief walk, my arm wrapped in his feeling so comfortable, so right.
"What?" Joey asked.
"Oh nothing, it's just these events at the Wilkerson's are always so pretentious," I answered, trying to draw out his thoughts on her.
"How so?" He asked, clearly curious by my accusation.
"Jane always walks around all high and mighty, talks all condescending which I find ironic considering," I said, deciding all of a sudden to stir the pot.
"Considering what?" Joey asked.
"Rumour has it she is banging some teenager on the side," I revealed, although I had no idea where this plan of mine was going.
"Really?" He asked, not really alarmed, but more curious. "Where did you hear this?"
"The grapevine," I shrugged. "Plus let's be honest, she dresses like a slut, walks like a slut, odds are...."
"She's a slut," Joey played along, brilliantly hiding any hint that the teenager in question was him.
"Exactly," I said, adding, "Although I guess she is a MILF, even if her kids are not hers."
Joey laughed, "I teach you a new word, and it is already added into your vocabulary."
"Of course," I said, posing playfully I asked, "Am I a hotter MILF than Mrs. Wilkerson?"
Joey's laughter stopped as he paused before saying, "You are the hottest MILF of all, say all my friends, and have been since they were old enough to get it up."
"You are just saying that," I playfully replied, trying to draw out his feelings.
It was his turn to look awkward. "Trust me mom; I'm not just saying that."
Squeezing his arm, I playfully said, the innuendo dripping, "Too bad you're my son and twenty years younger than me. Twenty year old me would be all over you."
Joey stopped, his eyes going big, "Now you are just saying that."
I took both his hands in mine and said, "Baby, I am serious. You are the spitting image of your father." After a brief moment, I added, "And I was all over your father when we first met."
"Mom," he squeaked, looking so adorably uncomfortable, so unlike his powerful domination of that slut Jane yesterday.
"What?" I asked playfully. "I am still a woman with needs."
"Oh my God," he said, flabbergasted by my frank talk.
"What you think your mother doesn't have needs? Many that have not been fulfilled in a long, long time I might add," I continued, making him squirm even though my intent was to plant a seed I hoped he would allow to grow.
"TMI, TMI," he said, his hands going up.
"What does that mean?" I asked, my quick wit ad-libbing, "Totally Mommy Irresistible?"
"It means too much information. Mom, what has gotten into you?" he asked.
"Nothing, that is the problem," I quipped.
"TMI again, Mom," he said exasperated as I glanced down and saw without a doubt his physical reaction to my naughty conversation.
I laughed. "Sorry Joey, I will keep my lack of sexual satisfaction talk to my girlfriends."
"Thanks," he said.
"Although watching you squirm was a lot of fun, you remind me of your father and his awkwardness when it came to sex," I said.
"I am not awkward about sex," he countered, "just sex conversations with my Mom."
"Your MILF Mom," I corrected.
"Aaaah," he screamed playfully, "this is the most surreal conversation I have ever had."
Taking his hands back in mine, I said seriously, "Honey, you are eighteen now, you are an adult. If your dad was here he would be having these conversations with you, but since he isn't I think it is important for me to be there for you if you have questions."
"Trust me, Mom, I know all I need to know," he said, the confident swagger he had while dominating Jane back.
"You do, do you?" I playfully teased.
"I haven't had any complaints," he shrugged.
"Honey, I hate to break it to you, but we ladies are great actresses. If you were not great you would never know," I said, my tone a mixture of flirtatious and playful.
"Trust me, I would know," he replied, again his tone firm, confident.
"How?" I asked.
"This conversation once again is crossing the awkward stage," Joey replied.
"Would you answer if you were talking to your father?" I asked.
"Probably, I don't know," he shrugged, his confidence again fading into awkward confusion.
"Honey, I understand you find this awkward, so do I, but I want you to know I will always be here if you need to talk about anything...anything at all including sex," I smiled.
"I know," he said, unable to look me in the eye.
"I love you, Joey," I said, kissing him on the lips just briefly.
His eyes went wide again, but he quickly composed himself, "I love you too, Mom."
"Shall we?" I asked, pointing to the party already under way, thinking I had pushed about as much as I could. I needed our conversation to marinate in his head until he was good and ready to understand the offer I had begun laying out in front of him.
THE RETURN OF MY SUBMISSIVE NATURE
Joey led me to the party and I was surprised when I saw Jane in a sundress and pantyhose. I cursed her and myself for not wearing them when I considered it. Everyone else there was in casual summer attire: bikinis, sundresses, shorts, except for Jane and Breanna, my next door neighbour and best friend. She was also in a fun white skirt, beige pantyhose, and a cute blue blouse. The first thing that popped into my head was: 'was Breanna fucking my son too?' It was a ludicrous thought but it was the first one that occurred seeing her in those pantyhose.
Breanna, was Mrs. Salmon Joey's English teacher. She was only twenty-eight, a third year teacher, and currently pregnant with her first child. Another thought popped into my head...'what if the baby was Joey's?' I shook my head as I continued to jump to extreme conclusions without even a thread of evidence to back it other than she was wearing pantyhose on a very hot day.
I squeezed Joey's arm and joked, "Well let's see you in action."
"Pardon," he asked, his gaze directly at Breanna.
"Who here are you in to?" I asked. "How about Beth?"
"Are you serious?" He asked.
"She is a cheerleader, pretty and has that wicked British accent," I said, using my own pretty good British accent.
"She has the IQ of a bag of potato chips, plus I like them a bit more experienced," Joey said, his tone seemingly to be flirty and directed towards me.
"How much more experienced?" I questioned.
"Twenty years," he revealed.
"You're a MILF hunter are you?" I coyly joked.
"And I am on the hunt," he joked with a smile as he left me alone.
I watched as he didn't even pretend to be sly as he walked directly to Jane and started talking. He glanced over to me to see if I was looking, before continuing his conversation. Not wanting to look like I was stalking my son, I meandered my way over to Breanna.
On my walk, a waiter who looked straight out of a GQ magazine walked by with wine and I took not one, but two. I finally reached Breanna who was rather intently watching Joey chatting with Jane.
I said, "Rather dressed up for an outdoor gathering, aren't you."
Her face flushed as she saw me and my random suspicions that she had slept with my son continued to become more credible. "My man likes my legs in nylon."
"I was going to wear some too, but thought I would have looked strange," I replied.
Breanna laughed, "That would have been interesting."
"Why?" I asked.
"Oh nothing," she said, her eyes glancing back to where Joey and Jane were standing.
"So what's new?" I asked, before adding, "Besides the obvious."
"Were you always horny when pregnant with Joey?" She asked, out of the blue, moving closer to me.
Reflecting back, I wasn't, except near the end. "Not really, except when I couldn't handle him in me anymore and read that sex was a good way to trigger labor."
She laughed, "I need it every day. I have turned into a nympho since getting pregnant, although I got it pretty regular before then."
My head went to my last time, over a year ago.
As if able to read my mind, she squeezed my hand, "I'm sorry Sarah, have you, I mean when was."
"Over a year ago," I answered the question she couldn't finish.
"Oh my God," Breanna said as if I had said I was dying. She added, "Wow, I went a week once and I thought I would die,"
"You get used to not getting it," I smiled back.
"I can't fathom," she said. "It is my addiction. Some girls love chocolate, others shoes, I love sex." After a brief pause, she added, her tone shifting slightly to flirtatious, "all kinds of sex."
A chill went up my spine at what I perceived as her hitting on me, my last lesbian experience over twenty years ago.
She glanced over again to where Jane and my son had been talking but her facial expression changed and I looked over to see neither was still there. I recalled yesterday's declaration that he planned to fuck her in the ass at this party and couldn't help but feel slightly envious at the thought.
I turned back and asked, "Is something wrong?"
Hiding her anger, there was no longer any doubt in my mind that Joey was fucking her too, she said, her tone rather dominant, "Come with me back to my place, my appetizers should be ready now and I could use a hand bringing them over.
"Okay," I said, following her.
Once in her house, she turned around and said, "Your son is fucking Jane."
"I know," I said.
"You do?" She said, her face going pitch white.
"I saw them yesterday afternoon in the pool," I replied.
"What did you do?" She asked, clearly curious.
"I wanted to freak out, but I didn't," I answered, slightly ashamed by my answer.
"He is fucking other women too," Breanna said.
"And one of them is you," I guessed, "isn't it?"
"How do you know?" she asked.
"The way you kept looking over to him and the look of jealousy that was written all over your face when they disappeared. Plus, only two of you were wearing nylons today and I know he has a thing for them," I answered.
"Stockings really are his one fetish," Breanna stated.
"We all have our kinks," I shrugged.
"We do, do we?" She questioned, her tone shifting. "And what is yours?"
"You know of my past," I said. Although Breanna was quite a bit younger than me, we had coffee regularly and our discussions were often very frank. I knew Breanna was bi, and she had implied on more than one occasion that she would love to draw me back into my wild past, often touching me playfully or talking very openly and candidly about her lesbian trysts. The temptation to give in to Breanna's relentless advances were constant before Jack's death, but Breanna had quit the sexual flirting since he died probably thinking too much too soon. We talked about our wild pasts and our less wild present, of course she had neglected to talk about the fact she was fucking my son.
"I do," she purred, as she lifted up her skirt, revealing her pantyhose were actually stockings and sat on a chair.
I watched frozen in place, remembering the many times I had pleased girls back in college.
"Come please me, Sarah," she ordered; her tone soft yet firm. "You know you want to."
"Breanna," I said, "I am not a lesbian anymore." Even though as I said it, the idea of tasting her had my own pussy wet, my horniness not yet subsiding since Joey's and my earlier conversation.
"Me either, but we have both switched teams on occasion and since your son isn't here to do as he promised he would do to me, I think I will get the next best thing," she said, opening her legs, "his mom."
I flashed back to college again and the memories of my roommate and I regularly getting each other off when our men didn't.
"I don't think we should," I said weakly, even as I could feel a hunger growing. I hadn't eaten pussy since college, yet the second such an opportunity was presented to me the hunger was back as if I had never quit.
"I wasn't asking your opinion, Sarah," Breanna said, as if knowing all I needed was a firm push to obey. Her tone firm, in control, she ordered, "Get on your knees, crawl between my legs and eat my cunt."