Nympho

'It's not my fault. I just can't bloody help it.' How often had she repeated those words to herself, always those same sentences rattling around inside her head? She did not consider herself a nymphomaniac, despite what other people may think. It was just that sex constantly preyed on her mind. Every day, and even during the night, the most innocuous of things would suddenly set her off, and what she needed most when that happened was to either fuck, or at the very least, masturbate. When she slept, it brought no respite, her dreams tormented by lustful acts with strangers or even members of her own family. Male or female, it made no difference. Once that fire ignited in her belly, and no matter what she did to try and stop it, she knew it was inevitable that it would quickly travel to her vagina. The juices would start to flow, and her nipples would become erect, another sure sign that she was in heat.

Did she find it embarrassing? Of course, she did. But there was nothing she could do to stop it despite it not being an ideal situation; although lots of men would probably disagree. When it happened, she just needed someone; young or old, big, small, ugly, or handsome; it made no difference so long as they had a cock and could get it up. Failing that, she needed a pussy and fingers. Any woman would do, someone to rub her twat against, someone to jam their fingers into her cunt and frig her roughly until she burst and achieved her seismic climatic release.

She had been married, quite a few times sadly, but none were ever destined to last. When a fresh relationship began, her new man could never quite believe their luck. Not for her, 'I'm washing my hair tonight,' or 'It's that time of the month,' or even 'I've got a headache.' She needed shagging every night, several times preferably. It was sex before tea or maybe straight after. It was mid-evening or early morning. Out in town, in a bar or a club, maybe the cinema, when the feelings started, she pleaded with her beau to fuck her. Upstairs on a bus, in the car during a journey, she didn't think there was anywhere that she hadn't opened her legs.

The problem always arose when her current partner, husband, or other half was not with her. Because then, she needed to find someone else, fidelity going straight out of the window, and in next to no time, so too would her marriage.

At work, and she'd had plenty of jobs; she had attained an advantageous position. You could say it was because she had slept, or rather, fucked her way to the top. At thirty-six, she ran five miles every morning and had a body that most twenty-year-olds would be envious of. Every boss she had ever had, and there had been quite a few, could never quite believe their luck. No need to try and proposition her; she had lost count of how many offices and boardrooms she'd had sex in. Eventually, though, she became a liability, word got around; as did she when the lust came over her, and then it was usually time for her to move on.

There was a date circled on the page of her open desktop diary, the twenty-fifth of January; it was a day she had been dreading. Thankfully, it had arrived and departed without anything untoward; but she knew that the time was drawing closer. She had a son, conceived with one of her husbands, or maybe one of the many men whom she had allowed to penetrate her; and that date had been his eighteenth birthday.

Over the years, and although she loved him dearly, she had managed to keep him at arm's length. He'd had many babysitters when he was a baby. As a toddler, he had a nanny, and when he was old enough, she sent him to a prep school and then to a private boarding school. She didn't want him to see her as she truly was. When that ache in her fanny controlled her sensibilities, the temptation was to leave him alone, desperation sending her out, searching for someone to relieve the demands of her body.

Thankfully, on the few occasions, he was with her, she had managed by locking herself in a bedroom and plunging toys into her cunt; but now, unfortunately, he had come of age. He needed no one to take care of him anymore, and she was afraid that she may be inclined to try and seduce him at some point when her desires got the better of her.

They were not estranged; rather, her son probably thought of her as being distant. That wasn't true. She had always sent him away to keep him safe, despite how much she wanted to be with him.

Jonjo was no longer a child; he was a handsome young man, and as she looked at his photo, dressed in his suit and posing at his prom night, she pushed away the thoughts that had invaded her mind.

Even now, and as yet, he was still away; thinking about him made her knees tremble and she could sense her developing urge. Over the years, although they had met up several times, she hadn't seen a great deal of him. When he returned home for his summer breaks, she would often pack him off to her parents or suggest a summer camp, anything that kept him at a distance from her. She only had pictures of him to go by; the one sitting on her desk presently, and the one in her bedside drawer.

It was no good; the urge was increasing rapidly, and she needed to finger herself. Racing up the stairs, ripping clothes off in the process, she was naked by the time she reached her room, throwing herself onto the bed and rummaging in the drawers.

Extracting the photograph, she gazed at her son. It had been taken at Easter, Jonjo on a faraway beach. It was his eighteenth birthday present, and he was posing for the camera; tanned, and wearing nothing but a pair of swim shorts. Her mind had already removed them; imagining his cock rigid as she lay on her back and opened her legs. The initial touch made her shiver, her fingers teasing her pussy open. She neglected her vagina for a few seconds because her nipples were demanding attention; each one twisted and pinched until it stood erect, solid, and throbbing with the pleasure of her touch.

And then her fingers returned to her pussy, one on either side of her clit, as she rubbed slowly, eyes closed now, as she imagined Jonjo shuffling between her thighs, his plump knob pressing against her fanny. This had become her go-to scenario; her arousal escalated until her fingers replicated his cock and were plunged into her quim. The frigging was frantic, fast, and hard, her mind now imagining her son looming over her as his cock penetrated and pounded her cunt.

The pressure was building, his picture now discarded because he was alive in her mind, so real that she could actually feel his shaft inside her as her other hand abused her tits, squashing and fondling the flesh; her nipples becoming twin peaks which transmitted pleasure signals to her brain. On the edge, she was seconds away from exploding as her fingers switched to her clitoris and the world disintegrated around her.

She imagined her son's cream filling her pussy, mixing with the cum and juices as her thighs clamped together; her body shaking as the force of her convulsions made her thrash back and forth. When she surfaced from her orgasm and gazed at her son's photo once more, she felt nothing but an overpowering love for him. There was no disgust or repulsion in what she had just done; this fantasy of hers was one she used frequently when masturbating, because the eroticism of imagining having sex with him, gave her the best climaxes she had ever experienced.

Slowly she wiped herself, cleaning up the wetness that covered her pussy and mound, as well as what had run between the cheeks of her arse. She had to be careful, this soon after an orgasm, her body was still ripe, and too much touching and wiping could quickly reawaken her arousal. Her legs were still a little unsteady as she recovered her clothes, dressing slowly and then retouching her foundation to make her face look presentable once more.

Despite having had his birthday, Jonjo was still safe until the end of the month. That was when his school finished, and he arrived home to await his exam results. She was hoping he had done well for the simple reason that a university would take him away again, out of range of a potential indiscretion. Failure meant that finally, he would return home, and she did not trust herself. If he were here full-time, even if he got a job, eventually, she would try to seduce him, that was if she hadn't raped him first.

Jonjo stepped down from the train with his cases and made his way towards the exit. He was not expecting his mother to pick him up; she never had in the past. Normally there would be a taxi waiting to drive him to his destination, his grandparents or maybe another member of the family or even summer camp. This time, though, he was going home; somewhere, he only had vague recollections of. He loved his mother because that was what was expected of him, but he didn't know her and could only imagine her in his mind's eye due to the photographs she sent him from time to time. They spoke every week on the phone, but that didn't mean he knew her; she was just a female voice on the other end of the line.

He was both bemused and stunned when he exited. Caroline, his mother was waiting outside, stood beside her, four-by-four. In the flesh, she looked different than in her pictures. His first thought was that she was gorgeous; his second thought, unprintable. From birth, they had never attained that mother and son bond. Jonjo realised that even though it was her name on his birth certificate, he only saw her as some woman, albeit at that moment, a quite sexy one.

'Hello, mother dearest.'

She stepped forwards, and into his embrace, conscious that despite her better judgement, she had dressed for him. The tight "V" neck top displayed her cleavage and a last-minute decision to discard her bra ensured that her breasts, still full and firm, jutted prominently beneath the flimsy material, her nipples becoming erect the minute they pressed against his chest.

'Hello, Jonjo. It's lovely to have you home at last.'

He kissed her cheek; Caroline wanted to turn her face and present him with her lips instead. Immediately, she could feel the heat between her legs; thankfully, she had overruled her thoughts of going pantie-less, glad that she had because she knew she was beginning to leak.

The skirt she was wearing was a lot shorter than those she wore for work or even for her normal day-to-day attire. She picked it to show off her legs, toned, and tanned at this time of year. In the car it would ride up, giving her son a view of her thighs nearly to her panties. She began to imagine his hand curving between her legs and had to stop her thoughts. Her arousal was escalating and at this rate, she would not even make it home before the need for sex or to masturbate overwhelmed her.

She made small talk, but all the while, her mind was thinking of sex. Somehow, she managed to get them home, but desperation made her quickly disappear once they were indoors.

'Sorry, hon! I've got a headache coming on. I just need to lie down for an hour.'

In her room, she locked the door, undressed, and extracted his photograph before fingering herself to orgasm.

Jonjo was accustomed to his mother's disappearances. It had been like that for most of his life. Over the years he remembered her suffering constantly from headaches, often suddenly disappearing up to her room. When she was well, she would be out, and he would be left with the nanny; and then later, she had sent him away.

He was surprised at the sensations that had quickly manifested themselves. On the journey home, he had been unable to take his eyes off her legs and heaving bosom, especially her erect nipples, which had caused a thickening of his shaft. It left him feeling uncomfortable as he realised that what he was experiencing was a desire to see her body undressed.

Up in her room, Caroline had dozed, the orgasm leaving her feeling exhausted. Jonjo hadn't been home for more than an hour before she'd had to relieve herself; how was she going to manage for the next six weeks until he received his results? She needed to make an effort, at least to begin with. This first week of his break would be hard because she had taken several days off, hoping to get through it without doing something that would both disgust and repulse him.

She managed to get through the rest of the day unscathed, although, with her bedroom door locked that night, she's had to masturbate twice to get rid of her building tensions.

The following morning, Caroline had an idea.

'How about we go visit my parents?' She asked

Jonjo had been waiting for such a scenario. 'We can visit. But! I will be coming home. I can look after myself now if you are too busy to keep me company.' For most of his life he had been farmed out here and there each summer; this year it wasn't going to happen, he had decided.

Caroline was startled at his declaration. Despite being drawn to her son sexually, she still saw him as her little boy, forgetting that he may now have a mind of his own.

'I wasn't thinking of you staying. I'm sure your grandparents would love to see us both and I thought we could take our costumes and use the pool.'

Jonjo relinquished his stance. It wouldn't hurt to visit, he supposed. But he wouldn't be staying, even if he had to walk home.

Caroline's parents were wealthy and well-to-do; their large home, about an hour's drive away, incorporated an indoor swimming pool. She had packed a costume in her bag, looking forward to lounging by the pool while watching Jonjo swim and parade around in just a pair of shorts.

Relaxing by the side of it in her dusky pink bikini, Caroline watched as Jonjo's powerful strokes carried him from one end to the other before he executed an underwater turn and headed back towards her. Although her eyes followed him, in her imagination, he was climbing from the water naked, his erection bouncing up and down as he headed in her direction. Her pussy was on fire, and with his attention diverted, her fingers were teasing her distended labia. The bikini top did nothing to disguise her erect nipples, but she was so consumed by the scene she was imagining, that she had become oblivious to her surroundings.

After several lengths, Jonjo slowed and stopped, resting against the edge as he caught his breath. His grandfather had taught him to swim in this very pool, and each holiday, he would train until he became an accomplished swimmer. Whether his mother was not child orientated, Jonjo had no idea, over the years his grandparents had functioned as his surrogate parents.

He wondered if his mother realised that he could see what she was doing, watching surreptitiously as she touched herself. He slid underwater and resurfaced; she was still at it, appearing to be in a world of her own and oblivious to his presence. He found watching her, erotic, his cock automatically beginning to swell and expand. Whatever was taking place in her mind was arousing her; even from his present position, he could see that the crotch of her bikini bottoms had changed hue due to moisture.

With closed eyes, the scene in her head was quickly reaching its culmination, just a few moments longer and she would achieve her climax. Suddenly, she noticed the silence, unable to hear the splash of water as her son worked his way up and down the pool. She sensed that someone was watching her; it could only be Jonjo. Caroline's hand froze. She wanted to move it away, but that would mean admitting that she had been touching herself. Afraid to open her eyes, she continued to lay motionless, the silence becoming oppressive.

'You don't have to stop if that is what you need to do.'

The sound of her son's voice made Caroline jump; he was close. She was far too embarrassed to even think of opening her eyes now. In a flash, her hand was moved away, and then she jumped again, her eyes opening because suddenly, a finger other than her own had just stroked her pussy.

Jonjo was perched next to her, staring intently into her eyes. Without saying a word, his finger slid along the lips of her pussy once more. Caroline's arousal, which had quickly disappeared when he had spoken to her, immediately returned. She should have told him to stop, to appear furious at what he was doing, but her mouth refused to work, and her mind wanted him to do more. His stoking continued through the flimsy material of her bikini bottoms; she wanted to scream at him to finger her, to perhaps fuck her. But with her arousal nearing its summit, she just needed to climax.

The sensations started deep down, the sudden release of building pressures as her climax made her body rigid. Clamping her thighs together, she gripped her son's wrist tightly, holding it in place as his finger continued to gently rub her vagina. Caroline tried to stop her groans of pleasure, but they crept out anyway, her buttocks and shoulders pushing against the lounger as her spine arched, and her head was thrown back.

She was still recovering from the enormity of her orgasm when she felt Jonjo's hand withdraw. By the time she was breathing slowly, and her eyes opened again, he had disappeared. About to go after him, Caroline realised she needed to take a dip in the pool before entering the main house; the gusset of her bikini bottoms was a different shade from the rest due to the juices she had lost.

By the time she exited the water, dried her body, and then went to her room and dressed, Jonjo was downstairs with her parents. Try as she might, for the rest of that day, whether it was coincidental or whether it was intentional, she could not manage to get him alone.

'Well, at least on the journey home it will only be me and Jonjo,' she thought to herself.

Her plan was scuppered when her mother asked. 'Why don't you and Jonjo stay over and then we can have a BBQ tomorrow.'

Before Caroline could say anything, her son had agreed. The rest of the day, she found, was frustrating. Now that he had touched her, she wanted an explanation. In reality, what she wanted was for her son to touch her some more, to ultimately, if he was up for it, have sex with her. As bedtime rolled around, all four of them retired. Dressed in a borrowed robe, she was deliberating whether to go to her son's room once all activity had died down and the house was quiet.

A soft knock came at her door, and she opened it to find Jonjo outside. He slipped around it dressed in a borrowed pair of pyjama bottoms, and closed it behind him, giving her no chance to say anything, as he spun her around so that she was pressed up against the door. Her eyes went wide with surprise as his face drew closer to her own, and then he kissed her.

Despite having attended a boys-only school, it did not mean that he was ignorant of women. The local town had boasted a multitude of young girls and even women, all eager to catch the eye of this tall handsome young man. He'd had more than his fill; his strong libido meant that he had begun entertaining more than one or two during opportunistic evenings and weekends since his birthday.

Caroline could not believe what he was doing; the moment their lips met; she indulged herself in the kiss, her arms around his neck as her mouth worked against his, and the dampness down below began to appear. When his hand slipped inside her robe and cupped her right breast, her legs turned to jelly. Her arousal was now making her feel light-headed, especially when his hands cupped both of her tits and pinched her already erect nipples.

Her mound was trying to press against him, desperate to feel his hopeful erection pushing back. But he kept his lower torso away from her gyrating hips, before sliding one hand down over her belly and then curving it between her legs. If it hadn't been for their mouths still being firmly locked together, Caroline would have screamed the house down when she felt him part her pussy lips, and then his two fingers enter her cunt.