The House at the End of the Street

To be honest, I have never thought of myself as the quintessential "Scarlet woman."

God forbid! Brought up, the eldest of four children within a typically strict Catholic family, I had little inclination, let alone opportunity, to stray from the fold as it were.

Maybe it had something to do with my having married so young - at just eighteen, to a boy I met in my first year at the University of Toronto. Conrad had swept me off my feet - changed my entire perspective on life in fact. At the point he proposed to me that night at the theater, echoing those ultimately simple five words that every girl at some stage longs to hear, "Julia, would you marry me?" I had no need to answer with words. It was simply a case of sooner rather than later!

Trent came along within a year and difficult as it was, I managed to balance motherhood and my studies with remarkable success.

It doesn't even seem that long ago! I am just thirty-seven now while Trent celebrated his eighteenth year a few months back. He is a strapping boy, intelligent and wise beyond his years, with very much his father's good looks and presence. It frightens me.

I can't be sure when exactly I started having the fantasies but once instigated, they were on-site for the duration. Nothing in our marital lives has been anything but blissful contentment and shared romantic indulgence. I love Conrad as much as ever I did and I have no reason to think his attentions and gentle courtesies are anything but evidence of a loving and happy husband.

Looming however - the clouds of dysfunctional sexual desire have been building up in the east now for some months!

If I had to nominate some particular event that catalysed this fully unaccountable emotional upheaval, then inarguably it was that weekend not so long ago.

Conrad had been down at the club with Jeremy, his best-friend since childhood and I had taken the opportunity to have a relaxing hot bath, it being mid-winter still.

Not expecting Trent back for some hours from the movies, to which he had taken his girlfriend, I suppose I had been something less than vigilant in my privacy by forgetting to lock the bathroom door.

As girls do occasionally (and lets not assume boys to be completely innocent in this regard either) I had allowed my hand license to travel to certain intimate areas that appreciate the dexterous nature of rhythmic caresses, shall we say? As far as I can recall, I had no set images in my mind right at that moment, simply allowing the pervading warmth of the bath and the physical contact to work their joint magic. It was certainly "working".....I seem to recall the odd sound of pleasured rapture issuing from my lips.

I don't know what made me turn around, maybe subconsciously I just 'knew!"

Trent was standing there. As shocked as I, he was just staring, as much in disbelief I imagine as dishonorable guilt.

"Good heavens Trent," I muttered, sliding surreptitiously lower into the bubbles so that my breasts were covered, "Have you never heard of knocking?"

"I'm so sorry mom," he answered, "I just heard strange noises in here (at this point he began blushing dramatically) "and, er...well, I guess I just came in." "Were you here......" I paused for a moment, "long?"

"Oh, no," he quite obviously lied, "I just walked in mom!"

Fully a Mexican stand-off, Trent retreated to the hallway then, closing the door behind him. Sitting up once more, I just lay there breathing heavily and wondering why it was I felt so flushed and aroused. I noticed right at that moment how erect my nipples had become. Instinctively I rubbed the swollen teat between my thumb and forefinger.......

Trent and I shared a remarkably quiet dinner that night, exchanging little more than polite conversation and forced pleasantries. I seem to recall a minimum of direct eye-contact.

In the coming days I found my mind replaying this close-encounter and each time I could not deny a pleasured reaction. Just the thought of a boy seeing his mother masturbate - as so surely he had, was turning me on unbearably. Perhaps because I am very slight - barely five three and with a less than matronly figure, while Trent seems far older than his years both in build and maturity - that it felt just that much more "forbidden." Try as I might, I found myself wanting some further 'involvement' with him despite the knowledge that this could never be. If nothing else, it was as much a betrayal of Conrad as a corrupting influence in our family lives.

Gradually, the incident appeared to taper in relevance and my relationship with Trent took on its former stable and progressive habits. That isn't to say though that my fantasies tapered in any way. Far from it.

Even as Conrad would make love to me some nights, it was Trent I was wanting to hold me like that and to whisper the tender words of endearment I was hearing.

I even thought of going to the Parish Priest, but who could confess such thoughts and images?

Nothing would ever have happened - but for the circumstances of last weekend!

Conrad was once again at his Club leaving Trent and I alone in the house. This had caused no emotional hardship or discomfort as things between us were apparently back on an even keel, the events of several months ago now but a distant memory one might presume.

Having finished three day's ironing, I was carrying the basket up to the linen closet - just a few yards along the hallway past Trent's room, when I heard sounds from within, the bedroom door only having been pushed-to.

Not surprisingly, I guessed immediately the likely cause. I just smiled to myself and walked on to the cupboard.

I can't tell you what happened between there and the three yards back to Trent's bedroom door...but something did! Even as I put the basket down quietly, I suppose I knew I was taking "one small step for a woman. one giant step for womanhood." Guessing that Trent would be seated on the bed with his back to the door. I pushed the thing open so slowly and peered around the edge.

He must have been three-quarters there.

I couldn't see his erection from that angle, but I could definitely see what he was doing to it. I had no need to slip a hand into my own panties, much as I felt like it - I knew how wet they would be.

If he was uttering any intelligible words I couldn't discern them, it just sounded like an infinite range of pleasured grunts and sighs to me. To say I was fascinated would be an understatement. It was only then that I realised I had never even seen Conrad masturbating....or him - me, come to that.

As he jerked about suddenly and I saw, to my considerable pleasure I must admit, a stream of his cum shoot upwards. I let down my guard fully unintentionally and made some audible noise. Trent spun around.

"Oh God mom," he cried in an agony of embarrassment, trying to cover himself. "I'm soo sorry!"

My heart melted for him and I ran to the bed.

"Oh Trent," I said, "You have nothing to apologise for. I should never have walked in." I looked him full in the eyes before adding, "Trust me - I know the feeling."

That brought a smile to his young face.

"Yeah....I guess you do mom," he replied, his hands still covering that which unaccountably I wished he wasn't!

Realising then of course that he had condemned himself out of his own mouth, he continued, "S'pose you knew I saw everything that day too, didn't you mom?" I nodded.

"Did you hate me for it?"

That brought tears to my eyes.

"Hate you Trent? Gosh......how could you think that?" I sat down beside him. "No, my beautiful boy, I never loved you more. Would you like me to tell you the absolute truth?"

He nodded, subconsciously perhaps taking a hold of my hands at the same time, seemingly unaware of his limp penis now lying dormant and shrunken at the entrance to his gaping undies. It wasn't the time for me to be looking at that particular aspect of life.

"Well Trent," I continued, "If I was to be honest with you and I'm hoping against hope you never tell your dad this...." Now he was interested. I had to hesitate before continuing.

"This is very hard for me to say......well, I kinda liked the fact you saw me Trent. I know that's an awful thing to admit and I probably shouldn't be saying it to you, but it's the truth." For a moment I dropped my eyes, fearful I suppose, of the effect my words might have on him.

I felt his hand beneath my chin. Raising my face, the last thing I expected was for him to kiss me - and on the lips at that. An electric shock ran through me and I felt like a helpless little girl - the one that I suspect has never really grown-up in all these years. I just looked at him.

"You want to know about the truth mom?" he was saying.

"Even before that afternoon, I always had "thoughts" about you, not thoughts a boy usually has about his mother either." I couldn't have stood-up right then if someone had paid me a million dollars! Now, he was looking away.

"I used to think about kissing you at first...but its gotten worse. After I saw you in the bath mom, I had to go to my room and beat-off......sorry for saying that..." It didn't matter, I think I was beyond further shock at that stage.

"And since then I have been thinking about you all the time. Do you know what I was imagining when you saw me just now?" It wasn't so much that I was casually interested at that stage - I had to hear it! I nodded.

"I was thinking about making love to you....it's all I think about, even when I'm out with Heather."

I wasn't prepared for his emotional collapse and as the tears shook his young body I just held him to me. My own were beginning to assemble in the corner of both eyes.

"It's OK, it's OK," I whispered as I cradled him, "I have had some terrible thoughts myself Trent......things I can't even tell you...things I can barely even admit to myself.."

He raised his tear-stained face towards mine, "You don't have to mom," and then he kissed me again.

This wasn't a child's kiss, not a mother-son kiss, and definitely not the peck of a stranger. This was a lover's kiss. Conrad's image flashed before my eyes, then my father's, but as both quickly faded, my handsome boy's face came back into focus. He was smiling despite the tears.

"I love you mom," was all he said. It was all he had to say!

Whether he lay me back on the bed or I did it myself I don't remember. I recall his undoing my top buttons, exposing my rather flimsy little bra beneath which he gently thrust his hand. I only have small breasts but the feeling as his hand slid across my nipples was one of extreme pleasure. I knew some formative moans were issuing from between my lips. His very inexperience and unfamiliarity with the territory were simply adding to my arousal, hopefully also - his own. My lips sought his and my arm pulled him closer.

"Should I take my dress off for you?" I offered. He looked at me in stunned disbelief but nodded in dumb acceptance of what ultimately must be.

Standing in front of a young man, my own son no less, unzipping that dress must rank as the most erotic moment of my life to date. His eyes the size of saucers, my body took delight in revealing its femininity to him. He pulled me back down on the bed, dressed now only in my bra and panties. I teased him unmercifully by pulling one thin strap down my arm. Taking his cue, he balanced things up nicely by tugging the other down too. For a moment I think my heartbeat must have been audible as he gently took a hold of both straps and made to pull them lower. Maybe it was his we could hear?

As my breasts were exposed I gasped. Trent simply laid a hand on them and so very gently began to fondle me. I could not repress the urge to squirm slightly nor could I wrench my eyes from what he was now doing to my nipples. "If this isn't the most arousing moment of my life" I was thinking. I needed him to suckle me.

Manouevering Trent's face to within inches and by arching my back slightly, nature's own blueprint for survival took over. As I felt his mouth latch back on to that which his own regressed memory was now recalling with no impediment, I let out a sigh of extreme pleasure.

"That's it Trent, suck them like you used to," I whispered, immediately feeling totally embarrassed at falling back on the use of such immature dialog. I don't think he was even listening.

Raising his lips from my nipples he looked at me for a moment. "You are so pretty mom...so pretty!" Right then, I felt it!

It was all I could do not to slip a hand inside my own panties. The two reasons I managed not to being that (a) that might be construed as overly improper and (b) I was hoping desperately that he would do it himself. I knew how wet I was there - I just wanted Trent to find out in his own good time.

Loving and gentle as he was, quite obviously he was afraid to take the initiative and that I found so endearing. It wasn't helping my incestuous needs though. Past wondering why I was thinking (and now acting-out) these forbidden desires, all my body was demanding was satisfaction.

I wriggled my hips as if to remind him there were other areas he might find interesting if he would but look. Returning his lips to my own, rather than my nipples was a subtle reminder. If I was going to be forced to take a hold of his lower extremities in order to widen his considered options I think I would have done it.

As it happened, his hand commenced its own exploratory across my abdomen and hips. I let him know by a series of sighs and light moans that this was definitely a move in the right direction. When he reached finally the waistband of my panties I felt his reticence to proceed.

"It's Ok Trent," I whispered in his ear. "You can take them off."

He didn't need any further urging.

"Oh God mom," he managed to get out as he just knelt there beside me, staring at my pussy, not that he could have seen too much, my legs were still together.

"I can't believe how beautiful you are....just as hot as the girls at University."

"Really?" I teased. "And just how many of them have you seen like this Trent?"

Fully blushing now he corrected himself. "You know what I mean mom...of course I haven't been with any girls like that.:

For some reason I found that incredibly arousing - the fact that I was basically the first "girl" he had ever seen naked. Why I wasn't thinking about Conrad at this stage I have no idea, but I wasn't.

"You're not being very fair Trent," I told him. He looked puzzled.

"Why?" he asked.

"Well you've taken all my clothes off...and you're still dressed!"

"You want me to undress?" he said semi-shocked.

"Only if you want to," I replied, parting my legs fractionally. I saw his expression change momentarily. He must have noticed.

Feeling more wanton by the minute I was not about to discourage Trent's gently invasive exploration of my vaginal ingress. On a voyage of discovery himself, he was making me feel anything but a mother as his fingers separated my labia and softly felt their way inside. Quite beyond my control, several little gasps escaped my lips as he became more daring in his exploration. Nor did I fail to recognise the significance of it all, my beautiful boy stimulating now the very areas where-in he had been himself conceived. I sat up suddenly and hugged him to me. Tears ran down my face and Trent withdrew his fingers and stared at me.

"Was I hurting you mom?" he asked, unsure of his own emotions right that moment.

"Of course not baby," I reassured him, "Nothing like that, I was just thinking about things, that's all."

"Is it dad," he enquired - somewhat perceptively I thought.

"No Trent," I answered truthfully - just girl stuff....honestly!" I lay back and drew him on top of me. I wanted him badly...needed him if the truth be known. To judge by whatever was pressing hard up against my tummy, I wasn't alone in the "needing" department.

Shucking off his jeans, shirt and underwear I found it hard to believe that this was a boy in his late teens. His work-rate at the gym had obviously been paying dividends.

A born kisser, we both swiftly reached a level of arousal that was never going to be denied whatever the laws of the land. He had what I needed, I had what he craved.

With a minimum of guidance he slipped into me and as I drew my knees up in absolute pleasure at what was so deep inside me, I let myself be taken.

Whether he was making love to his mom or a girl he was just going to know for a short time I can never know, but you can't fake sincerity or respect. He gave me both and I loved him for it. In his passion and inexperience he fondled my breasts until they were red raw....almost vandalised. He spread me to my theoretical limit and nearing his orgasmic Waterloo, thrust into me with the gentility of a considerate lover yet the work-rate of a first-time novice.

I think I cried out as I reached my own plateau, almost passing out with sensory overload. Trent was driving a mile-long goods train with no brakes and it felt like he came for ever.

After some five minutes of exhausted silence, with him lying still atop me while I just kissed him, playing with a few locks of his dark brown hair that had fallen across his forehead, he raised his head and smiled the most beautiful loving smile. They call it incest.

I call it the purest love of all.