The Theft of Our Lives -- Kellen

"Okay," Kellen answered agreeably, happy to spend time with his strangely free-spirited mother in her revealing outfit.

"Let's listen to some music. There's never anything on TV on Saturday night anyway," Emma offered with a cheery lilt designed to hide her discomfort at her wicked intent.

"We don't get too many chances to talk when it's just the two of us, alone," she added, speaking in a slow, hushed tone emphasizing the obvious fact they were alone.

In the family room, Emma let Kellen pick some music he liked.

"Not too loud though or we won't be able to hear ourselves talk," she advised parentally, setting the stage.

Kellen sat on the sofa, but his forethinking mother deliberately sat in the easy chair facing from the right, rather than sitting directly next to him, but remaining within touching distance. The next part of her brazen plan was designed to give our unsuspecting son an 'inadvertent' show and sitting in his line of sight allowed her to 'accidentally' flash him.

What Emma hadn't counted on was that at her angle she also had a good view up Kellen's pant leg. Respectfully, her initial impulse was to avert her eyes, knowing he preferred the freedom of boxers and wasn't aware of the unintended exposure of the loose fit.

While she couldn't see anything at present, she guessed that at the right angle the open shorts might afford her an accidental flash too, and the realization of that indecent prospect sent a disquieting and quite improper shimmer through her body.

Listening to some current pop band in the background, mother and son sat in the family room and conversed while drinking wine. As they did, Emma's questions became strikingly provocative and ever more personal.

"You said there are some attractive girls at school, Kel, do you think about sex?" my prying wife inquired venturesomely, straying into areas she'd never talked about with the kids, at least until recently with Kerri, for obvious reasons.

"Well, uh, sure," Kellen replied tentatively, embarrassed by the question, but with the warm feeling of the wine prompting him to answer.

"Have you had sex, Kel?" she quizzed, suddenly acting the alarmed mother not wanting her son to grow up too soon.

"No, of course not!" he denied strongly, genuinely caught off-guard by the presumptive question. "It's just, you know, me and the guys talk about it."

Emma was relieved in an ironic reaction considering all she was trying to accomplish in satisfaction of my deviant boss.

"You mean, you talk about the girls at school, like, which ones are hot and that type of thing?" Emma pressed onward, curious while trying to sound cool.

"Sure," Kellen replied, limiting himself to the one-word answer, while confused and uncertain where this was leading.

Uncomfortable with the intrusiveness of the probe, but committed to her task, my cautious wife pushed the discussion in an increasingly taboo direction.

"Do you talk about the lady teachers? The 'MILFs,' I think you call them?" she inquired directly, seeking his own level of understanding by employing what she considered a disrespectful acronym in her proudly feminist worldview.

"Mom?" Kellen questioned at the odd line of inquiry and surprised she even knew the term 'MILF,' but it did give him a sense she considered him an adult.

"I'm just curious. I know some young men prefer us older ladies," Emma girlishly retorted, slipping in a playful comment including herself to aid her intent.

"Yeah, a few of them, I guess," he hesitated, gullibly not picking up on the allusion and uncertain if he should say what he did next but taking the chance considering his mother was asking the questions.

"Mrs. Green is hot," he answered, throwing caution to the wind under the bizarre inquisition.

"Really? She's probably what, in her mid-30's?" Emma asked in response, not truly shocked but pretending to be anyway. "I'm surprised you're attracted to a woman that age, but I can understand why. She's very pretty."

My actively involved wife had met Paget Green, Kellen's biology teacher, at a parent-teacher conference. The raven-haired teacher was gorgeous, with her finely chiseled facial features topping a long, lithe body possessing sculptured curves in all the right proportions and all the right places.

Emma now shifted in her chair, pulling her legs to the cushion in a slow, deliberate manner hiking her skirt up her legs and exposing more of her thighs, all the while acting as if she was completely unaware.

Kellen squirmed on the sofa as well, discreetly adjusting his shorts to a more comfortable position.

"So, have any of your friends ever said anything about me? Do they think I'm, well, a MILF?" she asked, devilishly employing a purposefully impish giggle at the evocative leading question.

My intrepid wife boldly strayed into dangerous waters, but she wanted our son to think of her as a sexual attraction to young men and not simply as his mother, so she took the risk.

"Mom!" Kellen started with surprise.

"Well, why not?" she protested gamely. "I'm not just your mother. I'm a woman too, you know."

Kellen considered the immodest query and then, in the spirit of the increasingly ribald evening, confessed the truth of his prurient conversations with his buddies.

"Yeah, my friends talk about you. You know, about your looks and stuff," our son admitted warily.

"And stuff?" his mother pressed, hoping for him to speak his mind and talk about her other female attributes.

"Umm, well, your, uh, body and like that," he mumbled, ashamed to mention such thoughts about his beloved mother.

"Oh, that kind of stuff. Really? That's interesting," Emma sighed, a little flattered and definitely intrigued.

"Brian thinks you're hot, and, one of my friends even said, 'your mom has a great rack,'" Kellen volunteered, emboldened by the frank discussion in his wine-fueled bravado,

"He even told me to my face how much he'd like to 'get into your pants,'" he candidly admitted, unbidden and pushing into new territory.

"Well, the audacity!" Emma gasped, genuinely surprised and feigning disapproval, but her heart fluttered from the compliment, and also her arousal at the youthful praise.

Emma had only taken their talk in this direction for effect, not really expecting to learn our son's horny friends had such indecent thoughts of 'kindly' Mrs. Tyler, whom they'd known for years. Still, it was beneficial to her deceitful plan, so she tucked away the valuable information for future reference and moved ahead with her immoral scheme.

As they talked, Kellen kept sneaking looks at the expanse of his mother's creamy inner thigh leading perilously to the edge of her skirt, improperly available for his viewing. Emma simply drank her wine, pretending not to notice while shamefully titillated by his furtive glances.

"Kel, do you ever look at porn on the internet?" she asked as the chat became more intensely sexual.

"Uhh, yeah, most guys do," he paused, afraid to answer before defensively admitting the truth.

"What type of girls do you like to look at online?" his inquiring mother ventured, not chastising him but instead probing deeper as the wine left the two more open and willing to tell all.

"I mean, do you ever check out the MILFs? Do you have any interest in older women? You know, women my age?" Emma pushed, deliberately steering the direction of the discussion to the salacious topic.

As she asked the question, his newly wanton mother seized the moment to shift again in her chair, this time uncoupling her legs and adjusting them to the left one at a time in a casual manner. In doing so, she left a slight gap between her thighs for a brief second before pulling her feet up to the cushion.

With her skirt high on her thighs, Emma was certain she had just crossed a new line by giving our son an unmistakable view of her shaved pussy. Not for long and just a glimpse, but certainly enough for him to realize what he was seeing.

Of course, she acted as though she had no idea, but it didn't take her long to confirm the flash of her uncovered snatch had indeed caught Kellen's observant eye by the way his head reflexively jerked, and his eyes froze in place.

"Uh, yeah, I look at them, um, sometimes. Some of them, uh, look great," he conceded self-consciously, managing to pull his wide eyes back into their sockets and struggling to form the words to his answer.

Answering this type of question from his mom was weird and Kellen was unsure what was happening, but he was certain he'd just seen his mother's bare pussy and was so stunned he almost couldn't digest the image.

'Why isn't mom wearing any underwear? What's going on?' he asked himself, bewildered by the prospect, certain she'd shaved down there.

Kellen had seen enough bald pussy in the porn he viewed, bit that was for sluts and porn queens. In his unsophisticated mind, our incredulous son simply didn't expect it from his own sainted mother.

"Really, what is it you like about them?" Emma questioned interminably, forcing Kel to vocalize his sexual desires.

"I don't know," Kellen shrugged, uttering words typical of an embarrassed 18-year-old guy when confronted by an uncomfortable situation. "They're more grown up, I guess. You know, they have more, um, curves."

Emma didn't let up, pushing our insecure son in a difficult direction for his youthful emotions.

"Curves, huh? You mean, breasts?" she scoffed, playfully raising an eyebrow.

Kellen was clearly out of his element under the bizarre inquisition from his mother, and between the wine, the questions and the undeniable crotch shot she'd flashed, he was aroused. Shifting again in his seat, he bashfully didn't want her to know about the awkward bulge growing in his shorts.

"Yes," our flustered son answered with a coy grin.

"So, you're saying you like the older women because of their big tits?" Emma alleged, purposefully lewd hoping to shock him with her bold language while smiling alluringly with a toying look in her eye.

Manipulative and sexually assertive in a manner previously unthinkable to our unwitting son, she incorporated the coarse term to assure Kellen he wasn't in trouble or that the conversation was unacceptable. Nonetheless, his eyes popped wide with shock, and was obviously too embarrassed to answer.

It was just the reaction Emma wanted and despite his efforts to conceal it, my mindful wife noticed the tightness in his shorts as a sure enough indication of her progress in continuing the depraved game.

Pointedly, she decided now was a good time to press her advantage, uncrossing her legs in a deliberately slower manner than the first time, intentionally affording Kellen another unhindered view of her bald pussy, then moving next to him on the sofa.

As she did, she dipped low giving another good shot of the cavern between her generous melons, barely hidden behind her loosely buttoned blouse.

"Your wine is gone, and I'm not going to pour you another glass, but why don't we share the rest of mine?" she offered, sitting to Kellen's right, and noticeably pressing her voluptuous body against his own.

Puzzled and more than a little addled, Kellen took the glass from his mother, unintentionally brushing his bare arm along the soft, full curve of her large left tit through the thin cotton fabric. The contact was brief and unexpected, with his eyes widening and gulping openly at his miscue while quickly grabbing the glass for a drink.

Emma was also affected by the inadvertent touch against the side of her unencumbered breast, sending a shiver coursing her body and goosebumps rising on her skin. Perceptively, her areolae unmistakably tightened, with the reaction surprising Emma, as her own arousal was the last thing she expected from the shameful seduction of our son.

'It's gotta be the wine,' she rationalized, unwilling to accept any other explanation, and regaining control of herself.

Returning to her nefarious mission, my wife leaned against the back cushion putting her giant chest on its best display.

"This is nice, isn't it? Just the two of us together, listening to music," she sighed, setting her hand on his back and lightly rubbing his strong muscles. "We don't ever get to talk, especially about important things."

Sitting side-by-side and arm against arm, the proximity of their bodies kept Emma's nipples erect, and if Kellen had looked, he'd see the fine points poking through the material of her thin blouse. Instead, he was focused elsewhere, as his mother's skirt rose high on her thighs, almost to her lap, and if it crept much higher her pussy would be fully in view.

Swallowing deeply, summoning her courage to make that possibility more likely, his intractable mother's legs slackened apart immodestly, leaving the landscape of her pale inner thighs available to his wandering eyes only a foot away.

Studying Kellen's puzzled expression staring at her thighs, Emma knew she was exposed and that she should cover herself. What she was doing was wrong, enticing our son with her bountiful body, but she did nothing to correct the disgraceful display of illicit flesh or to prevent him from looking as long and as closely as he desired.

My crafty wife studied Kellen's face peering indiscreetly at her crotch, noting he was quite handsome and grown-up. His arms were muscular and well-defined as a result of his weightlifting for his sports activities and a patchy but clean-shaven beard had developed on his chin.

'How can I do this to him? Take his innocence?' she asked herself, battling her conscience internally through a stream of unanswerable questions. 'What kind of sick man forces a mother to seduce her son? How can I live with myself?'

Snapping herself from her pity before she sank irretrievably into doubt and melancholy, Emma returned her attention to the task at hand. She had come so far, and she needed to see how far she could go or else lose the momentum.

Emma had broken a visual barrier by exposing her bare pussy to our 18-year-old son and knew she needed to break a physical barrier as well. To accomplish that unthinkable feat, she judiciously set upon continuing the salacious questioning.

"So, you and your friends like women with big knockers?" Emma asked crudely, turning the language as naughty as possible keep the lewd nature of the discussion in high profile, but receiving no response from our flummoxed son.

"C'mon, Kel, spill. Who told you I have a 'great rack?'" she pursued his earlier admission, girlishly raising her plucked eyebrow to demonstrate her curiosity.

"Well, it was Tim," Kellen said after hemming and hawing for a moment.

Tim Bradley is our son's best friend living down the street. The same age as Kellen at 18, Emma had known him since he was a kid, and even served as the den mother for their scout troop. She still thought of Tim that way, when obviously he was now an adult too.

'Maybe it's time to change my point of view about Tim Bradley,' she reflected indecently.

"Really? Tim thinks I have a great rack?" she teased, openly expressing her surprise and teasing Kellen outright about the perceived misdeed. "Why, I should talk to his mother about him having such dirty thoughts."

Willfully, Emma sat upright, pressing her chest against the tightened blouse so her erect nipples were unavoidable, with the shape of her large melons neatly defined by the contours of the thin fabric. The inside of her generous right boob was easily visible through the gap left by the open buttons.

"What about you, Kel? Do you think I have a great rack?" his saucy mother brashly inquired out of the blue.

"Mom!" our astounded son exclaimed, but his eyes betrayed his untoward interest, immediately drawn from her scantily covered lap to her outthrust chest just as she intended.

Overtly, Emma's hard nipples figuratively poked holes through the front of the flimsy material of her chiffon blouse, and there was no hiding her excitement as the scandalous exhibition.

Disgracefully, the naughty questions, the deliberate display of her pussy, and now conspicuously pushing her impressive chest outward for Kellen's benefit while asking his opinion of her tits, were all erotically charged acts spreading the warmth of arousal throughout her body.

"I just want to know if I match up to the MILFs you see online," she elaborated shamelessly. "Tim must think so, and I just want to know if you do too?"

Emma made it seem so perfunctory and harmless, instead of a shameless, sexually ignited way to force our son to examine her expansive chest and make him confess that he liked his beguiling mother's big tits.

Hesitating to answer the unusual question, Kellen still couldn't peel his eyes away from his mother's giant melons, with her thick eraser tip nipples pressing through the shirt right before his eyes. Knowing he had to say something, he decided to tell the truth.

"Yeah, mom, you have a great rack," he announced, cautiously using the demeaning phrase while entering unknown territory.

"Well, thank you," she replied endearingly, listening with great interest when he spilled more insight than requested.

"They look as big as any I've seen on the web, except for the freak job women with fake boobs," he added unsolicited by way of explanation, although not quite using the same naughty language his mother had employed.

"Well, I promise you Kel, these aren't fake," Emma responded proudly, making the comment an unintended challenge by momentarily boosting the immense globes from beneath with her hands as a shelf.

Kellen's eyes bulged at the unexpected presentation and fidgeted in his seat with the bold presentation.

"I didn't think you'd know fake tits from real ones anyway. Does it really matter?" she pressed, continuing the use of her bawdy anatomical slang.

"Yeah, it matters! I can tell just by looking at them and, um, I can tell yours aren't fake," he declared presumptuously with a touch of bravado in his knowledge of such adult things, fueled by the glibness of the wine coursing his veins.

"My what, Kel? You mean, my tits?" she prodded deliberately, forcing him to use the salty language in the context of speaking about his esteemed mother's breasts.

"Y-yes," he stammered tentatively, contemplating the consequences of using the disrespectful word about his mom.

"Then say it, Kel. I've always taught you to speak your mind, so say what you mean," Emma chided forthrightly, not backing off in her determination for our deferential son to use the word to her face.

"Um, your tits, mom. I can tell your tits aren't fake," Kellen hesitated, gulping before finally saying the word.

"Really? Are you so sure? You haven't even seen them, yet?" his cunning mother pounced, her last word foreshadowing a previously unimaginable promise as he fell further into her trap.

Cleverly playing with Kellen's youthful pride in his ostensive knowledge of female anatomy and driven by her unyielding need to protect our family by succeeding in completing Hank's depraved quest, Emma grew more brazen with each challenge to our chastened son.

"Besides, you really can't be sure if tits are fake unless you feel them. I told you mine are real, but how can you be so sure?" she advised, smiling with satisfaction at her small victory in manipulating him.

Baffled and hesitant, Kellen sat dazed as his wily mother twisted him into knots of confusion and doubt.

"Have you ever even felt a woman's breasts before?" Emma asked with a hint of contrived exasperation, setting up her next daring move by exploiting his fear of exposure as a fraud, or worse, as just an inexperienced kid.

"I, uh, don't know, but, um, your tits don't look fake, and you said they weren't," he muttered sullenly, his pride wounded and defensively countering her query.

Kellen squirmed talking to his bedeviling mother about the inappropriate subject, searching for some bizarre rationale even as he subconsciously grew more comfortable using the cheapening 'street' name for her breasts.