Sexting

The Customer, a fat little balding man, got out of his chair and extended his chair.

"Thank you Grace."

I thanked him back and wished him a good day. With his departure, a smile broke across my face. Our deal concluded, the man would be moving into his new home within a few days.

My name is Grace and contrary to my job as a real estate agent, I'm actually an introvert that posses good communication skills. Type of person that stays to herself so much that she has never had a relationship with another person besides her son. Actually he was the reason why I hadn't.

At thirty-four, I had an eighteen-year old boy named Mike. You may see the issue with the age, but I assure you that being pregnant at fourteen wasn't my fault. My family had been strictly religious. They were so religious I had been blamed when the pastor was found with me naked by his secretary. Luckily, our church leader's secretary had seen an issue with it and had called the cops, but not before the father had graced me with his 'holiness.'

The scandal had been terrible for me. My parents flipped and shoved me out the door. Fortunately, an aunt took me in and not only raised me, but also helped raise Mike. Her connections and money also helped me set myself up for a successful career. However, no matter how hard she tried, I just couldn't get over the rape and had avoided men outside of a professional manner. That and the chastity was also cemented over being religious myself. I wanted to wait until I found the one. With virtually no sex drive, I could look hot and not get anything from it other than good sales.

I sighed before sitting back in my chair. Paperwork needed filing and I went through organizing different accounts. Lunch was soon and I was pretty excited about getting a bowl of hot soup and a sandwich at the diner across the street from the office. Then, my phone went off.

The notification on the home screen told me the message was from Mike. Mike and I texted almost constantly. He was on lunch break right now at school. Texting is how we communicated most of the time. We talked about everything important in text, mostly because I avoided a lot of drawn out conversation. In the end, it allowed a ton of autonomy. Looking down, I let out a gasp at what I saw.

*Yeah, I'd fuck her.*

The words sat there on my screen as I shook in shock. How do I reply to that? We have never talked about sex. Even sexual things were off limits only because the subject had never been breached. Just the thought of sex crippled me from being able to function as emotional scars reopened.

My phone clattered to the desk and I got up. No longer excited about lunch, I grabbed my coat and gathered my purse before heading out into the wintry wonderland that was in full swing. Getting into my car, I sped home, trying to escape reality and reassert control.

Tears flowed profusely from my eyes, causing my eyeliner to streak down my cheeks. I looked into my green eyes in the rear-view mirror as my hands shook. My breath became labored by the time I arrived home. In a flash, I was out of my car and standing in front of the door to my home. With my shaking hands, it was difficult get the door unlocked. I managed it somehow and soon was within the safe solitude of my room. Dropping my purse to the floor, I crashed on my bed looking at my phone with the message still visible.

There I was on my bed sobbing and rocking into one of the many "cute" pillows that I had. It was one of the things I splurged on and that was my fortress of solitude. The room was stacked with stuffed animals, some big and others small. They made me feel safe and after a few minutes, I recovered some, but that message was there, staring at me.

Reaching out tentatively, I picked the phone up. Normally the two of us were open. My son was the only connection with any man that I had and so I didn't want to ruin that.

*Who do you want to fuck?*

I stared at my response for a long time before sending it. Immediately my son responded.

*Crap mom, I'm really sorry. That was meant for someone else*

I could have figured that. Still, it jarred me to receive the original message.

*You know you can talk to me about anything right?*

*Sure mom, but the last thing I want to do is bore you with your son's sexual musings with his friends*

I was disappointed with the dismissal and couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because my son had inadvertently given me a glimpse into something he was willing to experience. On the other hand, maybe it was because the shock had faded and I found myself for the first time curious about sex. What made a woman attractive enough? What kind of woman

did he think was hot?

Fully recovered, I got changed realizing that I was not going back to work at all. One of the benefits of my job is that I could skip out on being there because of a variety of possible excuses. Putting on loose fitting jeans and a baggy shirt, I walked to retrieve my phone after hearing it chime.

*Mom?*

*Yes?*

*I'm really sorry.*

I guess I could understand his nervousness. Wanting to know who he was talking about surprised me, but I asked.

*Who is she?*

*You're not going to let this go?*

*No.*

Mike was not your typical teenager. He was what could be known as a smart jock. Someone who loved running as much as he loved to read.

*I was talking about my homeroom teacher*

*Oh*

The conversation ended with that. He didn't reply, no doubt because he was in class now. At home and alone, I decided to take the opportunity to complete a few chores. I was just finishing the dishes when the phone went off.

*Mom, are you okay?*

*Why wouldn't I be?*

*Just thought I made you mad.*

*Little shocked. Why do you talk like that?*

*Like what?*

*You know, saying fuck.*

He didn't respond. Sighing, I left the kitchen and went upstairs. There I was back on my bed and so to distract myself, I turned on the television. One thing you wouldn't know from looking at me is that I am a huge Anime nerd. I put one a new one I had downloaded onto an external hard drive that was connected to the television. Watching, I lost track of time and was brought out of my trance when I heard the front door open and close.

*Is that you?* I texted.

*Yeah.*

*Are you going to answer my question?*

*I used the word for impact, mom. It encompassed how I really wanted to have sex with her.*

*Is this conversation making you uncomfortable?*

*It's fine. I just feel weird with you wanting to know.*

*Why? We talk about everything.*

*Okay mom. What do you want to know?*

What did I want to know? It was my turn to be silent with him. I heard him go into his room as I thought. Biting my lip, I looked over to one of my stuffed animals. He was a big, fluffy, white rabbit in a pair of overalls named Mr. Bumbles.

"What do I want to know Mr. Bumbles?" I asked. He didn't answer, but I stared into his glass eyes. She then got the idea to ask about his teacher.

*Why your teacher?*

*Because she is sexy and I like older women.*

*Why?*

*They have experience.*

*How do you know?*

Heat rose in my cheeks as I blatantly asked my son about his sexual experience.

There was no reply.

*You won't get in trouble.*

The words made me feel better and a little disgusted. I knew by his lack of answer that some older woman somewhere had taken my son's virginity. He had sex and probably enjoyed it.

*I know because the first woman I ever saw naked was you. After that, I did some research online and found that older women just do it better*

*When did you see me naked?*

Again, there was a break in reply. This time though, I watched as the typing icon danced on the screen.

*I've caught glimpses of you now and then in your bedroom. Not that I want to be a peeking Tom, but you've left the door cracked open. Sometimes when I come by to talk, you're naked.*

*So you just look at me?*

*A few seconds before knocking.*

I didn't know how I felt about that.

*Why?*

*At first it was just to see a woman naked, then it was just to see you naked.*

I wanted to ask if he thought I was attractive, but reserved myself. There was a flutter of perverse excitement within me, so I distracted myself by asking him the most direct question I could. ]

*Are you a virgin?*

*Mom! What the hell?*

*?*

*Yes.*

*So you watched me because you were a virgin?*

*Mom...yes.*

Did he have the hots for me? The thought sent chills through my body and created a feeling of floating in my stomach I had never felt before. Questions ran rampant, but the most pertinent involved questions how taboo it was for him to be look at me. Then it sunk in that my son may actually have the hots for me. With his comment about older women, it flattered me. Why didn't it disgust me?

*Am I hot?*

There was no reply. Instead, she heard what sounded like a groan of frustration reverberate throughout the house. That question had been over the line. Instead of waiting for a reply, I put the phone down. Nervous and feeling weird, I got up and went to the bathroom.

My bathroom wasn't much better than the bedroom. Inside, it mimicked the sanctuary in that it was filled with cutesy things all meant to help me stay calm. Honestly, if anyone saw the loli wallpaper I had they would have recommended me for a psych ward.

Not that I wouldn't deserve it. I probably did with the aversions and now the thoughts racing in my mind about my son. After using the loo, I headed back to the bed and saw that Mike had responded.

*When is dinner?*

Looking at the clock, I saw that it was getting close to five.

*I'll start cooking soon. Are you going to answer?*

*Do I have to?*

*Want dinner?*

I couldn't understand why I would want to know. I never cared how I really looked unless it

was to make a sale. My son wasn't buying anything from me and yet, I wanted to know what he thought.

*"Yes.*

*Then answer me.*

*Mom, you're not just hot, you're breathtaking. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?*

*Of course, I look at myself every morning, but I'm nothing special.*

*Mom, any man should worship you.*

His words made me blush, and gave me a peculiar feeling in my stomach. Feeling

altogether confident, I got up and headed downstairs to cook dinner for him. I decided to

make a stew and put all of the ingredients in a pot. While cooking, I did text him again

asking what made me hot. By the time I got all the ingredients boiling in a pot and rolls

buttered, he had responded.

*You just have a sexy aura about you. Plus there is that killer smile and a body to die for!*

I smiled, but the thoughts of being attractive suddenly lost way to understanding what it

meant. A feeling of dread grew in my stomach and so I asked him something to help me

get over it.

*Do you feel weird telling me these things?*

*Kinda. I don't want you to think i leer at you all the time.*

*You don't?*

I put the phone down and continued to cook. The phone sounded with a ding and I

retrieved it.

*No.*

*You sure? I mean you've seen me apparently a few times.*

*Not up close though.*

*We couldn't do that.*

*I wasn't asking you to. Sounds like something you'd want.*

If he was in the kitchen, he may have seen the look of horror on my face. The thought of

wanting sex or even being attractive made me dread my sexuality.

*What are you insinuating?*

I asked the question in an accusatory tone, hoping that it would deter him. A growing pit of

disgust grew in the pit of my stomach. Somehow I knew it was the wrong thing to say.

*I'm insinuating that you want to get laid.*

That couldn't be it. I had sworn of sex. Mike didn't know. He had asked about his father

once, but I had just mumbled something about him being dead. That wasn't true. The evil

asshole who had raped me was still alive. I knew because he had tried contacting me years

before. We had talked and the man even sent me money, but told me one day he'd like to

meet his son. There was no apology given for what he had done.

*Can we talk at dinner?*

*Yeah, why wouldn't we? Are you going to stay downstairs for that?*

*Yes*

*Okay. When?*

*Ten minutes. Don't be late*

I almost backed out of getting dinner. My nerves so worked that I had returned to my room

while the stew finished. In my room, I was a complete mess with what I was about to do.

Tell Mike about his father. There was a surety that Mike would hate me for sure when I told

told him about his father. Maybe I wanted to finally open up to someone about it.

After ten minutes, I returned to the kitchen to prepare the plates while my heart raced. I

even opened up a bottle of wine and killed two glasses. Something to help calm my nerves

and I swayed in drunkeness a bit as I served dinner.

Mike was at the table waiting for me and he greeted me with a smile.

"Man mom, that smells great," he said enthusiastically. I hoped the stew was. As I settled to

eat an awkward silence permeated the air. With a sigh after a few bites, I started to tell him.

"Mike, I'm sorry," I said staring into the bowl.

"About our talk?" he asked with a mouthful. He knew I hated that and it did focus me

enough to glare at him for a second. With a few chews he swallowed and continued. "Don't

be sorry mom. It's fine, just surprising to talk to you about it. I'm glad you weren't mad

about me peeking."

I began to shudder as words stuck to my throat.

"Not about that. About you're father."

"What about him? He's dead?"

I looked back down and realized my appetite was gone. After a moment of silence I looked

up at him.

"Do you remember your aunt?" I asked with more confidence. Mike wouldn't have

forgotten her though. Before she had passed, the two of them had been inseparable.

"Yeah."

"Do you know why we lived with her?"

He shook his head and continued to eat. I got up and poured myself another glass of wine.

After a big sip, I continued.

"I was thrown out by my parents because I was pregnant with you," I said, knowing he

knew this part. "What you don't know is that I was knocked up by the pastor of the church

they attended."

That made him stop eating.

"My parents blamed me and cast me out after his arrest."

Confusion passed over his face.

"When we were talking earlier it was because I have never had sex since. It's been too

painful to think about such things, and essentially," I trailed off, more words becoming a

mumble. The shakes were back.

"Your father isn't dead either."

"You serious?"

I looked up to him and the tears fell down my cheeks. He was mad. I could see it all over

his face.

"I'm sorry son."

My eyes dropped again, and then in a panic I got up, and rushed to my room. There, I cried

into a pillow nonstop for what seemed like forever. I was brought out of it when my phone

vibrated with a message.

*Why did you lie to me?*

*Scared of the truth and ashamed. Your aunt was the only one who tried to make the ordeal

out like it wasn't my fault. Everyone blamed me.*

*So my dad is still alive?*

*Yes, he wants to meet you.*

*Not going to fucking happen.*

The conviction in his voice, well text, made my heart leap in joy for a moment.

*If I ever see him, I'll kill him. Just look at the damage he has done.*

*What do you mean?*

*I was always confused why you never had a boyfriend. Always thought guys were after

you. Seen plenty of them flirt and you flirt back. So why not?*

*I've been too scared.*

My first time was a horror, and everything that happened was confusing. I mean pregnant

at that age, I was lost and scared.*

*I'm sorry it happened to you. So that's why you text so much?*

*Yeah, I'm actually really shy.*

I was fidgeting on my bed concerned about opening up so much with him. To help with the

scenarios, I actually pulled out my computer and began searching on mother and son

relationships. More of a curiosity on my part, but I found myself wondering about Mike in a

new way. He, after all, was the second male to ever see me naked and the first as an adult.

Clicking on an images section, I found myself look at picture of mothers and sons. It

reminded me that I have few picture of my son and he fewer of me. An idea crossed my

mind and I typed out a question and sent it before I had a chance to think about

consequences.

*If you could get a picture of me, what would you want?*

I bit my lip hoping that the question was over the line but dreading if he decided to cross it.

What was wrong with me that I had decided to try out all my inexperience like a teenage

girl on my son?

*I'd want one of you naked.*

*Why would you do? Show off to all your friends*

*No! I would just enjoy it.*

*How?*

That question wasn't answered.

*Not like you would send one mom. Moot point.*

*What if I did?*

*What if you did?*

With a sigh, I got up and stripped out of my work clothes. I left my bra and panties on and

hesitated before taking them off. Naked, I found my nipples hard and my pussy extremely

wet. There was no denying how turned on I was but I had no idea how to handle it. Striking

a sexy pose with my body turned to hide my myself as best as possible, I snapped a few

picture while moving around. When I was finished, I found one that hinted at my curves but

hid my intimates and decided on that one to send if I worked up the nerve.

*I can send one, but what do I get in return?*

*Are you serious?*

With a deep breath I sent the picture, forgetting that I did want something for breaching the

line.

*Oh my fucking god mom, you're hot!*

I blushed.

*You're joking.*

*No, I'm not. You should model. Can I get one of you tits?*

Standing my hands drifted to cup my breasts. They were a handful and still perky. As skin

touch skin, I shuddered in delight. As my hands roamed across my body I felt stirrings of

desire. I found my nipples hard and delightfully sensitive. Rubbing them softly with light

pinches, I thought of Mike suckling on them. The thought made me moan loudly, and

unfamiliar stirrings went through my body. Pleasure like this was new, and I drifted my

hands down to my sex.

My pussy was burning with an unfamiliar feeling. I touched the labia tentatively and

moaned as pleasure went through me. When I pulled my hand away, the milky film on my

fingers was thick and pungent. Curious I stuck my fingers in my mouth and tasted myself

for the first time in my life. The enjoyment of my sweet and instant addicting juices was

interrupted by the chime of my phone.

Opening the text from Mike made me let out a gasp of almost horror, but the curiosity and

fascination of what he sent overrode that. On the screen was a picture of my son's penis.

The appendage that had plagued me all my life now looked appetizing. My aversion

disappeared and at that moment, Mike was all I wanted in the world.

*You're a bad boy.*

I texted him, feeling the heat rise in my body. Fingers drifted back to my groin almost

subconsciously, but I snapped a picture of my bare chest and sent it. Then I moved back to

my bed and grabbed my laptop once more. This time, instead of looking at picture, I looked

for incestuous stories online.

To feel more comfortable with what I was doing, because lets face it, I was now

uninhibitedly masturbating, I would have liked to have found a story to similar to my situation. I couldn't and the closest scenarios I found were of experienced mothers