What Happens in the Dark

If you want 10" cocks, women who orgasm in 10 seconds flat, simultaneous orgasms or gallons of cum then I'm sorry, but this is not the right story for you. I like to write about ordinary people with ordinary sexual appetites in slightly out of the ordinary situations. I try to keep the plot lines as near to reality as I can.

I try to keep the sex as true to my own experience as possible. I love to write about kissing, stoking, how sex feels and sex as an encounter which involves all the senses. I do like to 'get dirty' but only in the height of my character's arousal. All my stories have my own experience in them, but they are not autobiographical.

I should make it clear that this is not a mom got drunk and seduces son story. Or how both mom and son always wanted to have sex with each other. It is a story about love and taboo sex. It is an exploration of what circumstances would be needed for consensual sex to take place between a 'normal' mother and her 'normal' son. I know, there is no such thing as 'normal'. It's a story about the parts of our physiology we keep buried.

It does depict consensual sex between a mother and her son (over 18) and if that offends you, please bear in mind it is a fantasy and perhaps this is not the story for you.

Constructive feedback welcome. Thank you for reading my story.

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Prologue

I am not sure where to start. Should I start by telling you how close my son and I are? For a mum and son, we are unusually close, not in a physical way, we are just very easy and natural in each other's company. Since my husband (his father) died 5 years ago he has often accompanied me when I have needed a 'partner' for social and work occasions. Everyone loves Harry, he is bright, intelligent and has good manners. The guys at work like him as he can talk about any type of sport and my girlfriends love him because they say he is a perfect gentleman and the 'spitting image' of his father.

I think he is the greatest looking 18-year-old in the world, but I would because I'm his mum. Like most teenage boys he is full of hormones and curiosity about the world. He certainly has a roving eye for the girls. He is slightly gawky when he meets a pretty young girl, a bit embarrassed, but he will grow out of it. I know that because he isn't at all like that around me or my girlfriends. He is tall and confident. I guess he is fantasising about them (the young girls) but not about us, which is only right.

I miss my husband, mostly at night. I miss the warm cuddles. I miss a sense of belonging, a sense that I wasn't alone. Harry has been great and is definitely the man about the house. He is sensible with money, happy to do a bit of DIY and fix my car. Welcome though all of that is it can't replace the relationship a woman has with a man.

At 42 I suppose I should make more effort to find another partner, it was my husband's dying wish. I think I'm lazy and perhaps I fear the rejection. I'm often told I look great for my age and I do try to keep in trim. Harry is great company during the day that I never feel lonely. it's just the nights he can't make up for.

Act 1

I suppose I should have seen it coming but I was shocked when collecting laundry from his room one morning. I picked up a pair of socks from the floor and one of them was wet. Without thinking I put my hand into the sock and smelt my fingers to see what it was. I felt so fucking naive. You know what it was and now I know what it was. I just never thought of my son masturbating, which is rather stupid of me. Now, having thought about it, I wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't been 'knocking them out' since his early teens. I wasn't turned on, I didn't feel my pussy getting wet, I didn't start fantasising about fucking my son. I simply did what most mums would do, I put his socks into the washing machine and made a mental note to be careful how I picked them up in future.

Later, I did chuckle to myself and I had a non-sexual vision of him lying on his bed masturbating. It didn't last long as I cut it short once I 'saw' him cum. Very inappropriate I thought, but it did make me chuckle out loud. He was a man and I was proud of him. I say 'non-sexual' because I didn't feel any sexual reaction, but also I didn't realise that a 'curiosity' had stirred in the dark reaches of my mind.

Act 2

That was a few months ago and I won't bore you with tales of mundane life. It was summer and Harry had finished his exams. We hoped he would be off to university at the end of summer. The subject of him leaving school had come up at Christmas. He said he was going to get a job locally. He is a bright boy and I saw through that straight away. He was, just like his dad, a real gentleman with a strong sense of moral obligation. He wanted to stay and take care of me, how sweet. After lots of discussion we agreed he would go to university. We both knew I would be lonely and so we resolved to make the summer as good as we could make it.

I knew that noise, but I just couldn't place it. A sort of rapid tap-tap with liquid overtones. It was coming from Harry's bedroom. Then I heard a low muffled moan, the taps grew faster and then much slower, then they stopped. I walked up to his door, it was ajar, and I was just about to walk in when it dawned on me. That was the sound of wanking. I stopped just in time.

However, that dark curiosity pushed my head to the gap and I saw Harry lying naked on his bed facing away from me. He was still holding his cock which had spewed cum on his chest. He was breathing heavily, his skin glistened with a sheen of light sweat and had not yet moved to clear the cum. There was a rivulet of milky liquid from the tip of his cock to his right nipple. I turned around and went back downstairs.

My head was all over the place, I can't tell you what I thought. I know he had not, as my son, turned me on and I wasn't particularly shocked, he was a teenage boy what did I expect? I was interested, not in him as my son, but as a male body that had just climaxed. I had visions of me stroking the glistening sweat and running my fingers through the sticky cum. I was touching the cock, stroking its limp state. Feeling the softness of the skin.

Back to reality. "Hi mum, what's for dinner."

"Quiche and salad," I replied.

Act 3

That wasn't the last time. Was I passing by his room on purpose? Was I lingering a bit longer every time? I can't tell you as my brain was just so foggy. I do know I was pleasuring myself more often at night in my bed. I developed a fantasy of watching a man, covered in sweat, masturbate himself to climax. This body didn't have a face, it wasn't my son, but (to my shame) it was Harry's body! I didn't think about it all the time, 'real life' saw to that, there is just too much going on in all our lives to be thinking about sex, but when I did have a quiet moment my mind invariably drifted back to my fantasy. I couldn't shake it out of my head and the dark part of me didn't want to.

Act 4

One day, while cleaning Harry's room I caught a reflection of myself in his mirror. I instinctively adjusted my hair but then it dawned on me. I could see the door to his room from where I was standing and, therefore, so could Harry when he was lying on his bed. I was horrified, ashamed and very angry with myself. I had stood in the doorway 6 or 7 times in the last couple of weeks. Had he seen me? If he had why didn't he say anything? Should I say something?

I started avoiding his bedroom when he was alone in it, but my dark side would not leave me alone. It tortured me with my fantasy of watching a man masturbate. When I closed my eyes, I could smell it, that musky slightly sweet smell of sex. I could hear it, that rhythmical beat, the soft moans, the sound of the bed sheets and springs shifting as the man's hips moved involuntary. The sight of the cum arching in the air. That moment of ultimate pleasure and the calm following the storm.

I am ashamed to say I had to see it again and I did, many times. While I was standing in the doorway watching this man work himself to sexual ecstasy I made sure I did not look in the mirror. If Harry knew I was doing this, I didn't want him to know that I knew he knew. I could ignore the fact that this was my son if we did not make eye contact. I felt safe in my very private voyeuristic fantasy providing I could tell myself he didn't know I was watching. It wouldn't be my son if we didn't make eye contact and I could convince myself he didn't know.

I was safe in my own little world. For 99% of the day I didn't give it a thought, I was a working mum with lots to think about. Sex didn't feature on that list at all and I was happy with that because at night I did fulfill my desires. I wasn't frustrated, I was content with virtual sex and I enjoyed playing with my pussy. I preferred my fingers over toys, it seemed more sensual to me, less automatic. I convinced myself that this was safe. It didn't involve a relationship and, if we didn't acknowledge, it didn't involve my son. Naïve? Probably.

Act 5

Unfortunately, summer came to an end and it was time for Harry to go to university. He was excited to start a new chapter of his life and I was excited for him. I was sort of relieved that I wouldn't be able to spy on him. It would, perhaps, force me to do something about a relationship.

I drove him to Cambridge (UK) and helped him set up his tiny bedsit room. It was a hot day and the flat was up 2 flights of stairs. We worked hard all day, and both ended up quite sweaty and worn out. It was about 9pm by the time we finished, and I gave him a bottle of champagne to celebrate his independence. He kissed me on the cheek, and I kissed him back. We hugged "goodbye" for a while and both of us knew this was the closing of a chapter in our lives. I was awoken out of my sadness by my sense of smell. I could smell him and I'm sure he could smell me. Not unpleasant dirty smells, just that mixture of aftershave, anti-perspirant, perfume and hot sweat. Generally dirty body odour is not nice, but I've always thought that this clean sweat mixture is a sexy smell. Suddenly while hugging him I got my vision of the man pleasuring himself on the bed. The heady mixture of the smell and the vision made my knees a little weak and I slightly slumped into Harry. Our hips were lightly touching.

Harry didn't say anything and nor did I, but we stayed like that for what seemed like an hour even though it was about 10 seconds. I didn't feel the monstrous bulge of a 9" erect cock, in fact I could discern any bulge, nevertheless I could sense it's presence. I knew it was there. I imagined me holding it and slowly working to its full magnificence and then watching it spewing cum over my hand and stomach. Just like before, it wasn't Harry's cock it belonged to my fantasy. Harry moved his head from my shoulder and said he would see me down to my car.

Act 6

Of course, you've guessed it. The car wouldn't start, we drank the champagne, there is only one bed and on a hot night with no air conditioning we agreed to sleep in our underwear. I had to say that quick as it sounds so improbable, but there you are, that is what happened.

Harry turned out the light and we both stripped down to our underwear. We got onto the bed and as agreed we both lay back to back. There were no shower facilities so I could still smell Harry. I can't help it but that does make me feel sexy. The difference is I was now semi naked lying on a bed with my son. I didn't want to feel sexy. My dark side would not let me go. It kept confusing me with visions. Naked men masturbating. Naked men between my legs slowly licking every part of my pussy.

I tried to ignore these feelings and must have managed it because I drifted off to sleep. It was hot so it wasn't a deep sleep. I was woken by Harry shifting position, he had turned to face my back. He wasn't touching me although given it was a small bed, he must have been very close. I was drowsy and couldn't be bothered to ask him to turn over. I drifted back off to sleep.

I was in a warm room on a four-poster bed draped with silk curtains. The bed morphed into an altar. The room was dimly lit with hundreds of candles which flickered and danced. I was clothed in a very sexy dark blue negligée. I remember being concerned that my sweaty state would spoil the negligée. Next I noticed a naked Adonis with chiselled features and a chest to die for. I noticed his strong muscular legs and tanned body as he climbed up onto our altar. I started babbling on about how I was too sweaty, but he put his finger to my lips.

He bent down and licked my foot. With long languid strokes of his tongue he worked his way up my legs. The tension built as he approached my pussy. He missed it out and went up to my tummy. I probably should have pointed out that it was my dream and how dare he miss it out, but I was lost. He licked my tummy and I wondered where my negligée had gone. It was a dream; it had just disappeared. He moved up the side of my chest and I again wanted to express my disappointment that he looked like he was going to miss out my breasts.

He did, he put his nose in my armpit and took a deep breath that seemed to last forever. Then he proceeded to lick my armpit. I have no idea what part of my brain that came from. It isn't something that I have fantasied about, maybe it was the goodbye cuddle with Harry. I wish I had previously fantasised about it, because as I was in heaven. The feeling of his wet tongue slowly lapping up and down my armpit was very sexy in a dirty sort of way. It felt smooth, it felt wet and I could feel his nose nudge me as he worked up and down. I could feel his breath cooling the skin where he had just licked.

He moved again and started kissing me. Not hard or forceful but slowly and insistent. His tongue worked into my mouth and I felt his jaw flex open and shut. I could taste my armpit mixed with peppermint. His tongue was wet, our mouths were wet. Our chins were wet and still he kissed me. He had beautiful full lips which were soft and yet muscular as I felt the edges when he flexed his jaw open and shut.

The he moved, oh fuck, why stop? I needn't have worried it was a dream and I was enjoying it. The sexual tension had risen all day, and this was my sub conscious finding relief. I felt his face between my thighs and instinctively opened my legs slightly. He started with the lips of my pussy slowly licking up and down. When he got to the bottom of my lips, he carried on just short of my star. Then all the way back up. His tongue was huge, smooth and wet. It glided over my lips, parting them, opening them. He slightly sucked my clitoris and then went back down again.

His tongue paying special attention to the insides of my open lips. He had turned my pussy from a rose bud to a fully opened flower. It blossomed to his touch. He was being more rhythmical now, paying more attention to the little centre of my pleasure. He freed it from its hood and lapped at it. It responded getting bigger. I responded moving my hips in time to his rhythm.

A tongue appeared in my mouth, which I gratefully received, humming into the mouth. The 1st man was still paying full attention to my clit. I looked up at the 2nd man, it was Harry. This was rapidly turning from a dream to a nightmare. The light and dark sides of my subconscious were battling for control. The light side wanted me to wake up, the dark side wanted more.

Then there was a 3rd person holding me down and I couldn't move. Maybe it was my dark subconscious taking control. I had one very expert man bringing me to an inevitable climax and my son had his tongue down my throat. Part of me still wanted to stop but my dream wouldn't let me. It was wrong and I knew it, but it would not stop. Like some machine the man between my legs had lit the fireworks and I knew the night sky would soon be illuminated with rockets.

Kissing Harry was not unpleasant it was just wrong. What was I thinking? I wasn't, it was a dream. My dream-self stopped fighting. There was nothing I could do to stop dream-Harry kissing me and I began to kiss him back. My tongue entered his mouth and our lips mashed closer. He was lying on top of me. I could feel his weight. I could smell him. Dreams are fantastic because despite Harry's new position the man between my legs never missed a beat.

I was getting close now, my hands were all over Harry's back and bum we kissed with a passion I had forgotten I possessed. His weight was forcing the breath from my lungs and every time I breathed in, I could smell him. I could smell the day we had. I could smell the mixture of his scents. His tongue was in my mouth and I didn't care. I wanted orgasm. I wanted orgasm with his tongue in my mouth. I wanted him and the tension was rising. The wave was building, and I could feel it coming. I just didn't care anymore and suddenly Dream-Harry was fucking me. The rhythm was smooth and insistent. I didn't care, I wanted him, I wanted orgasm, I was so horny I could have fucked anyone and everyone. Then it washed over me, once, "oohhh," twice, "oohhh arrgh," three times, a few little ones and then calm.

I was starting to wake up having had a beautiful orgasm. My world felt warm and cosy. I was half awake and half asleep. My knickers were slightly pushed down and my hand was slowly stroking the top of my pussy. I had a body pressed up to my back and a hand draped on my hip. I was at one with the world. Happy and perfectly relaxed. The person behind me was close enough that I could feel his manhood pressed into my bum. It felt nice, I felt wanted. That lovely smell haunted me again. Oh yes, that is Harry. Harry! I woke up very quickly.

It's Harry's boner, it's Harry's hand. Fuck, I've just had an orgasm in my son's arms. He was in the dream. He was fucking me in the dream. Is he awake? Was he awake? What do I say? What do I do?

Harry moved his hand and started stroking my hip. I was still waking up. My head was mush. I was still recovering from a really lovely orgasm, I couldn't move. I let him stoke me, I shouldn't have. He might be asleep. He might think I'm still asleep. I didn't want to embarrass him or me, so I let it happen. He moved his hand to stroke my tummy between my bra and pushed down knickers. He couldn't get complete access as my hand was still in my crotch. I still didn't move. I decided to act out the pretence of being asleep. It seemed the simplest thing to do.

His hand started stroking my arm from shoulder working his way down to the hand that was in my pants. He did this slowly so I had plenty of time to think, but I just couldn't think. The longer this went on the more my pretence of sleep would fail. I had to stop this now, but it was just going to be so embarrassing. I couldn't do it and took the cowards way out (mainly because my brain was mush), I let him continue. His hand was stroking and caressing virtually every bit of bare skin he could reach. I felt safe that this would soon end when he got bored or fell asleep. I even managed to kid myself that he may be doing this in his sleep. It was safe as after all he couldn't reach my crotch as my hand blocked it and he couldn't stroke my breasts I had a bra on. Wrong!

Harry pulled a bra strap down, pulled out a breast and started stroking it. Yes, I know I should have stopped it. I don't why I didn't, something stopped me from moving. I blame the 1st dream-guy who bypassed my breasts on his way to my armpits. Harry was gentle and I found myself involuntarily relaxing as he stroked my breast. Something stirred when he lightly brushed my nipple. Again, I know I should have stopped him but the darkness of the room, the heat, the smell of Harry and the come down from my orgasm just stopped me talking. It stopped me moving. I let it happen.

One part of my brain was shouting from the rooftops that this was all wrong. It was shrieking that I would regret this. The dark part of my head was calm and relaxed. Devoid of any moral compass it was enjoying being stoked by a real person. It was enjoying the dirtiness of the situation. Not just the fact neither of us had a shower but the fact that mother and son should not be doing this. The ultimate dirty sex. The ultimate erotic situation. Totally taboo.