The Long Tease

"I'm sorry Mom," he said weakly. "My fingers slipped." I didn't question him why, I didn't need to after all. I knew why. That word, incest, was out there now between us, hanging in the air. We could both pretend it didn't mean anything, though Tom could not know that its taboo promise meant suddenly as much to me as it did to him.

"That's ok baby," I said lightly, "just be a little gentler, ok?" I leaned forward and patted his arm, giving him a view down my dress as I did. Again, I saw his eyes flick towards a place a son shouldn't look. I knew that my tits looked good, squeezed together, the skin still relatively smooth and their modest size avoiding the worst effects of natural gravity that occur to many women of my age. I can't tell you how much it thrilled me. How could any other man's attention mean as much to me as this boy's? How could Tony or Bob or any fucking man compare to my beautiful boy?

In that moment, I felt like I never wanted any other man's hands on me ever again. His fingers were now moving deftly between my toes, as he held each one in turn between his thumb and forefinger, gently pressing the soft pillows of flesh under my sparkly nails. His erection was raging and, when he finished massaging the tenth digit, my breath was running a little short, my chest was a little flushed and a little wet patch had appeared near the end of the cock outline in his pant leg. It was only pre-cum but I had caused it and it thrilled me. I had to bring this to an end, however, before things got out of hand. I had to keep it just the right side of propriety in order to stay a good mother, though truth be told that ship had long since sailed, hadn't it?

"Thanks my angel," I said brightly, lifting my feet from his thighs and swinging them back round to touch the floor. "That was amazing, they feel so much better. You promise to that each time I buy a new pair of heels," I joked as I smoothed the skirt of my dress.

I stood up and stretched. "I'm bushed baby. Thank you for a really lovely evening. It was nice to spend time with Katie and her Mom - less so her Dad for obvious reasons - but it was great to spend time with you too. You're such a gentleman Tommy, I'm proud of you and I hope Katie appreciates what she's got in you. Sleep tight sweetie," I said, kissed my fingers and pressed them briefly against his forehead before making my way upstairs. I feel his gaze on me as I padded out of the room, knowing his eyes were trained on my bare heels, the same heels his fingers had been touching a few moments before. I smiled unseen to myself. I couldn't wait to see if Tom shared tonight's escapades with his online support group. First of all, though, I had some other business between my legs to attend to.

The next day was a Sunday and I spent the morning with a girlfriend and then much of the afternoon busying around the house, ensuring I was on top of all my tasks before work started again on Monday. I didn't see much of Tom, as he was ensconced in his room. A further sign, if one were needed, of my strange state of mind at this time was that I spent a great deal of time, both with my friend and doing my chores checking my phone to see if there was a new post from Tom on the forum. It was as if I was the teenager permanently glued to my phone, precisely the kind of behavior for which people from my generation criticize the young. Why wasn't he posting, I wanted to scream? I mean wasn't last night fucking amazing? Why didn't he want to share it with his little community? I mean, he had enough people wanting to know about him and me.

I had taken the opportunity to 'read around' Tom's posts, as it were, and his posts about me and his feelings often garnered a significant number of comments, nearly all of which were supportive. While most recognized his fantasy, a few posters tried to offer more practical help, making little suggestions about how to make his wish more likely to come true. Most of these revealed the writers to be guys who knew nothing about women, but some related experiences of their own and I made a mental note to read more of their posts to find out more about whether incest ever really happened and how.

For now, though, I just wanted Tom to post. It was in that long wait that I first thought about making an account for myself to try to prompt him but that would be crazy, overstepping the boundaries, making it too real. I just had to wait. Good things come to those who wait, they say, and, in the end, my patience was rewarded. Tom posted while I was making dinner. I saw the post just as I called him down for dinner and I must have been like a cat on hot bricks all the way through the meal, just willing my son to finish his lasagna so I could go and spent time with the virtual Tom. Looking at him eating, it was strange to think that this decent-looking boy who never caused me a day's trouble, was polite, friendly and chatty with me as he ate was, behind that exterior, burning with illicit passion for me and had just written all about it for anyone to read.

What would he think, I wondered, if he knew that I knew? More than that, what if he knew that I was excited, thrilled by what he felt. The disgust and horror that I had first felt on learning about the true Tom had gone, slowly melted away by the heat of my lust which had mixed with the strength of my love for him to create something new, intense and so powerful inside me that I was no longer sure that I could control it. The force of it was making me do and think things that I would never have dreamed possible just a few short days before.

Tom went out after dinner to a friend's house, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my son's post. I retired to my bedroom and made what were, by now, my customary preparations for my virtual date with Tom's words. I stripped off, freshened up all over, reapplied my make-up and slipped on my kimono before sliding onto the bed and opening up the website. His post was waiting for me and I devoured every word with voracious eyes:

"More strange and exciting happenings with Mom for me to tell you about. So, my GF and her family invited Mom and I out to dinner as Dad's *still* away. Mom went the whole nine yards in her preparations, salon, hair, nails, new shoes (fuck me, those shoes but I'll get to that! :) ). I wasn't really sure why, I mean I thought maybe she was trying to show off to GF's Dad, I mean he's some big-shot surgeon with a seriously handsy rep apparently and Mom's been pretty lonely in recent years. Anyway, for reasons that will become clear, I'm pretty sure that wasn't it, so I'm really not sure why she went to all that effort. Not that I'm complaining of course because, wow, she looked amazing.

'I mean, you guys all know how much I like her and I've always thought she was beautiful, but she was a real knockout last night. Super-hot dress, amazing hair and just the sexiest nails I've ever seen on her. They were like gold sparkly glitter on both hands and feet. They really brought out her hair and dress and definitely drew attention to her feet which were in some new red stils which I fucking loved as you can imagine. That I totally crush on Mom's feet is not exactly a secret here but, OMG, they look A-fucking-mazing - like they were shining. I just wanted to spend all night looking at them. I seriously nearly fucked up and blew my load in my pants when she dropped her purse getting out the car and asked me to pick it up. I must have spent like half an hour scrabbling around her feet, trying my best not to lick and nibble every single golden digit on those perfect feet. I could smell the fresh leather, the talc and the sweat. I felt like both my heads were gonna blow off! She then gave me the perfect view of her feet in the booth. I mean not deliberately or anything, just because we were both on the end and she was sitting with her legs out the side of the booth because it was cramped on her side.

'Whatever, though, I just kept staring at them, the glitter I'm sure must have been hypnotic or something. It was everything I could do not to make it totally obvious to her and to my GF that all I really cared about was those sexy feet moving in rhythm with the music. I felt a bit bad for my GF, I mean it was her idea for us all to meet up and all I really cared about was my Mom. Plus, Mom looked way hotter than the GF, I mean *way* hotter and she's like 30 years older nearly. Am I just being crazy? I mean the GF isn't like ugly or anything, but shit, she's no Mom. I mean, what the hell is wrong with me? I also felt bad because GF's Dad (Tony), was a right slimeball and was coming onto Mom right in front of his daughter and his wife. Jeez, what a dick!

'Anyway, when we got home the evening got even more bizarre but amazing. Mom asked me to give her feet a massage! I know, like cliché alert but she really did, I swear I'm not fucking with you guys. She had bought the new heels and I think they were hurting her feet. It wasn't like some cheesy erotic story or anything, for her I'm sure it was just asking a favor from her son. For me though? It was like fucking Nirvana - for a son with a foot and incest fetish does it get any better without her actually foot fucking me (like that's ever gonna happen!)? What can I say about it? My God, it was everything I could have hoped for. I was so fucking happy, if I'd been smited then and there by a thunderbolt from Heaven I'd have died happy.

'Her feet were perfect, so silky on the instep and soft as marshmallow underneath on those sexy wrinkled soles. I could have wept with joy and I'm pretty sure my cock was gonna do just that, lol! Fortunately I just about kept it together without doing anything stupid like sniffing my fingers or anything. The smell was just divine though even from where I was sitting - I can't quite describe it except to say that it made me want to bottle it and sell it on the internet. I was doing ok until she talked about Tony and how he'd come on to her then, out of nowhere, she said the word 'incest' and I nearly wrenched her fucking foot off, so surprised was I. I'd never heard her say that word, that divine word before, and it sounded so fucking amazing coming from her lips. I just wanna hear her say it every day now. How do I do that, I wonder? Lol! :) She said that it might be like incest if she slept with my GF's Dad but if she was gonna do that she'd rather sleep with someone much more attractive.

'What did she mean by that? Do you guys think it was just a throwaway comment or might it actually mean something? I guess not but a guy can dream right? I did more than dream, though, once Mom had gone to bed. She'd kicked off her shoes for the massage but had forgotten to take them upstairs. There they were, by the sofa, just staring at me and me so aroused as you can imagine. I was fit to burst, like a geyser I was waiting to blow. I know I shouldn't have but I couldn't help myself.

'I grabbed one shoe and brought it to my nose. The fresh leather the salty sweat, the smell of her skin, it was so intense in my nose and my head and my cock. I ran my cock all over the other shoe, in the little indentations made in the leather soles by her toes, all over the straps, along the spiked heel. I should have pulled away but it all happened before I was ready. I fucking came on the shoe. It wasn't loads as I grabbed my cock hard to stop the flow and managed to find a tissue to release the rest into but there it was, right on the sole, between where her big toe and second toe on her right foot had been. Fortunately I missed the straps or the heel and I was able to wipe it clean but that's the first time I've ever cum on one of her possessions.

'Was I really bad in doing so? I felt pretty guilty afterwards, I mean I don't want to abuse her trust in me any further than I already have. I just love her and everything about her so much. Sorry for the really long post guys, but I'd really appreciate your thoughts on what's been happening. Am I mad for thinking something weird is going on? Am I just reading way too much into things? Anyway, thanks for all your support guys (and girls) and I'll look forward to reading your thoughts and comments.'

As before, my head was reeling from reading Tom's intimate thoughts about what had passed between us. Part of me felt guilty about what I was doing to him. I was clearly confusing him and making his addiction to me worse but then again I didn't start this addiction and he clearly was enjoying what I was doing. He was also being very naughty, but I could forgive him that. In fact, I found the revelation about him cumming on my shoe dirty and hot at the same time. I had tidied the shoes away in my closet this morning and now leapt off the bed and over to find them. Kneeling in front of my closet door, looking at myself in the mirror, I brought the right shoe to my face as my fingers slipped beneath the gaping kimono to touch my bare pussy. Could I smell his cum there? I don't know, I told myself I could but then I don't normally smell my shoes so I wasn't sure. Just the thought of it was heady, though, enough to make my pussy lips slippery and my clit hard as a pebble.

I looked at myself in the mirror, what a slut I was becoming. That thought might have appalled me a week ago but now it just spurred me on. I wanted to cum for my son as he had cum for me.

"Yes Tommy," I groaned, "Yes, I want you to cum on Mommy's shoes, on my sparkly feet. Why do you think I painted them like I did? It was all for you baby all...for...you!" My breathing was getting ragged and my vision was becoming blurry as my orgasm approached. I welcomed it like a long-lost sister, embracing it as it washed through me and over me, making me feel, not guilty, not now, but utterly calm and happy. I collapsed by my mirror, shoe falling out of my hand, gown wide open, my pussy lips twitching as I lay there in utter contentment for a few moments. I could have happily fallen asleep there but I wanted to know more. Had there been responses to Tom's confessions. I needed to know, so I returned to the bed in search of answers, a slave to my son's desire.

Although Tom had posted barely an hour before, there were already a couple of replies and, over the next day or so, each time I went back to check, there were more comments. Some didn't believe Tom's story and were calling it out as BS, others were sure that it might have contained a grain of truth but that he was exaggerating. That may have been so last time but not this time, it was absolutely true, unless, of course, he was lying about cumming in my shoe. Of those who thought Tom was telling the truth, the majority thought it was just dumb luck what had happened and that he shouldn't read anything into it beyond thanking his lucky stars.

One or two of the more perceptive posters, however, did think that something might be happening but that it was too early to tell what. There were several calls for more pictures, especially 'tributes' on parts of my shoes or my pantyhose. I was a little shocked to read that but then a wicked smile crossed my face and I imagined seeing it and I didn't want people to think Tom was a Walter Mitty or anything, did I? Maybe I could help him with that task? In a later post Tom had expressed once again his desire for a photoshoot and promised that, if he ever managed it, he'd post pictures (with my face blacked out I was relieved to read). Could I let him do that, I wondered? Surely, that would be taking things too far? Giving him too much false hope, I mean I wasn't going to let things escalate further, was I? Where was the line? I wasn't sure at that point. The truth, of course, was that I'd already crossed it and I just didn't know it.

I didn't take any major steps over the next week and certainly there was no direct encounter with Tom. I didn't want to be too obvious for one thing but also, given the intensity of my thoughts and actions, I subconsciously perhaps stepped back from the brink, not ready yet to tumble further into something I could not control. Instead, I created opportunities for Tom that were perfectly innocent in themselves but which allowed him to indulge his fetish if he so desired. His own growing confidence, egged on by his forum supporters, made me suspect that he would take them and I was not disappointed.

One evening, I asked him to collect the washing from the bathroom and to bring it to the laundry room. I had deliberately, and unusually, left the lid of the wash basket open and there, on the top, were a pair of tan pantyhose that I'd worn in the office that day. Sure enough, they disappeared from the wash, why would I miss one pair of pantyhose after all, when I had so many? Later that night, a 'tribute' picture of my pantyhose appeared on the forum along with a detailed post about the texture of the nylon, how it had felt around his cock, the smell of the feet after I'd spent a whole day in them and, eventually, how he'd blown his load on the foot. The only disappointing thing about the post to my incest-riddled mind was that my son didn't show the world (or, rather, his Mom) that beautiful, smooth, long cock again.

All that week I had also been leaving my work shoes, a variety of pumps, downstairs in the evening and wandering around the house barefoot. The latter wasn't unusual but I normally tidied away my shoes as soon as I got home but no longer. Would Tom notice and would he do anything about it? To my intense frustration he did nothing until Friday. That day, in desperation, I'd worn a pair of shiny patent leather high-heeled pumps and it was with great pleasure and satisfaction that, come Saturday morning, my shoes appeared online with a dollop of cum on each closed, pointed toe. If my tongue could have reached through the computer screen, I'd have licked the cream away myself. Instead, as I noted when I tidied them away while Tom was at soccer practice, he'd wiped them clean themselves and I could see my wicked, lusty smile in them as I raised them to my lips to kiss them happily before returning them to my closest, their task completed.

Both Tom's posts garnered plenty of praise and encouragement but while his friends liked my possessions, what they really wanted to see more of was me. I should have been old enough and wise enough not to be flattered by their attention but at my age and with a husband as useless as Bob, can you blame me? Some of you doubtless will and maybe that's right but I can't say I'm unhappy with my choices, not how it all worked out.

I thought long and hard about how I might satisfy Tom's desire without him realizing and without things getting out of hand. It was still, just about, fantasy I kept telling myself. What was wrong with a few photos that Tom and his virtual friends might jerk off over. Guys jerked off over photos of women on the internet all the time, why not over me? What harm would it be? I knew my Tom, even this online Tom, well enough to know he'd never expose my face, the real me. Why should I get the confidence boost of knowing I was still attractive to men? Bob didn't give me that, so why shouldn't I get it from elsewhere. It wasn't like I was posting the pictures, that I knew the men or anything like that. Would it be so bad? It could be my last little gift to Tom.

I knew that these games would have to stop soon, they couldn't go on much longer. It was a nice distraction, a nice confidence boost and why shouldn't he have a memento of it, even if he didn't know the real source of it?

I purchased the gift, therefore, and waited for the right moment to give it to him. It arrived one evening when Katie had come for dinner. Bob was due back from his work trip at the weekend and neither Tom nor I were particularly looking forward to having him back, not least, from Tom's point of view, because I was a lot more liberal about Katie staying over than his father was. Tom had decided to take advantage of this by inviting Katie over. We ordered takeout as I couldn't be bothered to cook that evening and shared a bottle of wine as well. We were, thus, nicely buzzing when I declared that I had bought Tom a little gift. When Tom opened the gift box, his eyes widened as he pulled out the Panasonic camera that I'd bought. I could almost see the possibilities swimming across my boy's face - Moms know their children so well after all!