Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 My Son, My New Secret Lover

   M/F, F/b, incest, mother-son, first time, romantic

  
***************************************************************************
*** Author's note.

   -This story involves the act of incestuous sex with someone under the
age of 18.  If this sort of thing offends you I suggest that you stop
reading now.

   -While this can be read as a stand alone story it may be easy to under
if you have read "Affair of a Different Color" first.  The stories do not
deal with the exact same topic by are related in many ways. 
***************************************************************************
***

   Living two lives can take a toll on a person but this was the choice I
made when confronted with diverging paths; I had decided to take both of
them.  My life had become a shroud of secrecy and deceit.  Every lie would
lead to another lie until it came naturally but not without some form of
repentance.  Guilt had become my real partner as no one person now fit the
profile.  Guilt was the one that was now with me at all times, always on my
mind and from whom I could find little respite.

   The only time I felt removed from guilt was on my lover's bed.  The act
of making love to my husband had become increasingly more difficult but it
was something I knew I had to do so my lies were not discovered.  Before my
affair started our love making was not what it used to be but still I
wanted to work on it, since the affair I would just spread my legs to get
it over with.  I never imagined I would find myself in such a vulgar state
but I felt powerless to stop it.

   I was often taking an inventory of my life.  I'm 38 years old and
rolling around in bed with a 22 year old engaging in all sorts of carnal
activity.  Even he annoyed me sometimes as I was becoming increasingly
moody to uncontrollable levels.  I would often ask why he was wasting his
time with me, why he wasn't finding a girlfriend, having a relationship,
moving forward with his life.  He seemed content to stand still.  He would
tell me that he loved me but I knew that couldn't be true.  Was he prepared
to take me with my children?  I think not.  I know that he couldn't even
conceive what that would have meant.

   Our relationship was not smooth; it was tumultuous, passionate and
intense.  We would have heated fights that would often end in a fit of
passion wherever he chose to lay me down or for that matter bend me over as
was often his preference.  It was usually daytime on Sundays when I was
supposedly at the gym, the daylight gave out love making a strange
character all its own.  Sometimes I would get there early so there was
still the morning light peaking through the curtains.  The light would make
me feel even more exposed as I bounced up and down on his ebony sculpted
body.

   I never considered what an affair would make me feel like because up
until the point where I was having one I considered it something that other
people do.  Not stable people from a loving home.  I was part of a loving
home with two wonderful children.  My son, Justin, and I had our problems
but not loving one another was not one of them.  My love for both my
children is so intense that it was what I thought of most each time I tried
to break off the affair.  My son was now 15 and his sister was 9, I
couldn't imagine how it would crush them if they found out or if their
parents got a divorce.  With that constantly in my mind I was always very
careful.

   I would always shower before leaving, Mark, my lover's place.  I had a
good excuse to shower as my Sunday workout at the gym was my cover.  We
only occasionally went on dates but it wasn't unusual for me to go out with
just my girlfriend from time to time so leaving the house a few evenings
every now and then wasn't a huge problem.  My best friend, Sharon, was
always willing to cover for me if needed.  When Mark met Sharon she was
shocked at my choice of man.  Firstly because of his black skin, secondly
because of his age and thirdly because of how well she perceived that we
got a long.  When I told her about all the problems we were having Sharon,
who is usually a sage for advice, was really at a loss of what to say.

   Mark loved for me to dress sexy for him and I loved to indulge him this
pleasure.  He taught me how to do a strip dance for him and the slow
seduction of the dance drove me wild as he watched from his wooden chair. I
knew that I am too old to dance in a club and in reality I wouldn't even if
I could but I still liked learning the moves.  Keeping my distance at
first, teasing, until finally finishing in a lap dance in just my
underwear.

   With this in mind I started picking underwear carefully at the store.  I
went from buying my first real lingerie earlier in the year to having half
a dozen pieces.  I started with the little black pair with the satin lace
to having different colors of silk and satin.  I now had a baby blue pair
that was transparent for half of the front.  I had my valentine red pair
that I matched with a pair of red high heels.  A white lacy pair that Mark
told me looked like I should wear on a wedding night.  Also a few other
skimpy pairs even including a few g-strings.

   Wearing the underwear would make me feel sexy.  My husband would tease
me about a mid-life crisis and while that did hurt my feelings I was able
to brush it off as I knew that somebody found me sexy.  Whether or not I
would feel sexy was something that changed almost as quickly as the
weather. Every now and then I would wake up feeling sexy and even wear a
g-string to work.  Other days I would look at myself in the mirror and feel
an uneasy feeling that an old woman was staring back at me.

   Most of my friends tell me that I'm lucky that I have aged so well.  I
know that that is something that us almost 40 (ugh I hate that number) say
to each other but sometimes I really believe it.  My hair is brown and
long, while the color has dulled a bit with the odd gray I haven't decided
to cut it yet.  I've always had long hair and I love the way mine curls at
the bottom.  I know that a lot of middle aged women cut their hair but I'm
still hoping that middle age doesn't come for me until I'm 50.  I have
brown eyes that at one time I would cover with glasses but since I was in
university contact lens have become more common for me, although I often
wear my glasses to work.  I have a slight frame but I'm not short, I'm 5'7"
and have long legs.  My legs have always been my main attraction and since
my early 20's I have liked to show them off.  While my age does demand
modesty to maintain a bit of class I like to wear a short sundress when I
have the chance from time to time.  Even if just to embarrass my son in a
trip downtown in the summer time.

   My son was moody before my affair started but once it was in full force
I began to internalize his moods as something wrong with me.  I began to
think of all the failures that I may have had as a parent and I would dwell
on them; the guilt was almost too much to bear.  It's not that my son is a
complete mope, he plays hockey, has friends and does ok in school I guess.
It's just that he gets into moods and I know that from myself that I have
been prone to depression and it makes me sick to think that maybe I passed
that on.  As a parent you only want to pass on the good things about your
personality, I wanted to pass on my work ethic, my friendliness and most of
all my smile.  Instead it seems that I have passed on fits of depression.

   Depression is something hard to break even if you face it head on like I
learned to do.  I still had never broken free of its clutches.  Why else
would I find myself on the bed of a man almost young enough to be my son
once a week?  It had to be depression, it had snuck up on me again and had
me acting like a different person that person that I don't know and who
only wants to fill a void by causing me harm.

   With all this in mind my son took up a lot of my thoughts, I had even
discussed it with Mark until he was sick of hearing about it.  I wanted so
badly to help him but any gesture I made was met with hostility and usually
ended with more bad feeling.  No matter how I approached the subject.  I
tried to get my husband to do something but his answers were always the
same, something along the lines that mothers and sons have strange
relationships sometimes and that I would just need to be patient and things
would work out.  It's never been my experience that things just work out,
you have to make them work out has always been my belief.

   As the school year wore on Justin was having problems with grade 10, I
guess I didn't pass my skill of math on to him either.  I made it a point
that I would tutor him on the weekends and we would go through his lessons
of the week and prepare for the next one.  This was something that he hated
to no end and he sulked his way through it.  It also interfered with my
secret life as I would have to cut my Sunday interludes short on many
occasions, often angering Mark and in turn upsetting me.

   It was in this uneasy state that Justin and I had our biggest fight that
we ever had.  He was doing his typical sulk and looking at the ground or
his pencil while slumped over and fidgeting in his chair.  Really giving me
attitude and I wasn't going to put up with it this time and demanded that
he sit up straight.  After receiving several negative responses I lost it
and turned into a crazy woman.  I was screeching at him at the top of my
lungs, telling him that he was going to listen to me.  I was worked into
such a frenzy that my husband knew that it was not a good time to
intervene. And that's when he said it.

   "Why don't you just fuck off you fucking bitch!" were the words out of
my one time baby's mouth.

   My voice broke on the spot and I was unable to finish my words.  I began
to cry uncontrollably, my legs would no longer hold me and I had nothing to
say.  I'm not sure how long it took but it probably wasn't that long, his
father entered the kitchen he was using most of his restraint to not throw
him through the wall.  Justin for his part was frozen in horrified shock at
what he had said.  The expression on his face seemed to say that he could
never be in enough trouble for as bad as he felt.

   He was almost flung to his room as what we needed most was space from
him to sort this out.  I hadn't even begun to think of a punishment when my
husband asked me what we were going to do.  I could even think about that
question as all I could think about was that my son hated me.  I didn't
feel like I had a reason to live anymore and I didn't care what was done to
him.

   One thing that I was sure of was that my affair would be over.  It was
causing me to be emotionally unstable and it was a selfish dalliance.  I
had to end it and I knew that a text message wouldn't work and I was going
to end it that night.  I told my husband that I needed to get some space
and think; there was not one bit of protest as I got the keys and went
driving.  I knew where I was going but the drive over felt mechanical in a
strange way.

   I drove down the narrow alleyway that led to the parking spot behind his
house.  The alleyway that I once scraped the side of my car on but those
months before now seemed like such a long time.  I felt changed and I
wanted to somehow change back, I wanted to somehow save my family.

   Mark was not home when I got there but I had sent him a text message and
he knew that I was coming over; he would be there soon.  I sat at the
bottom of the steps and thought of all the things I would say, maybe I
wouldn't even have to go in I said to myself.  It started to rain and I
went to get shelter inside the covered stairway that led to his second
story apartment, I was getting closer to the entrance and felt that going
in was inevitable at that point.  My will power had been broken down and I
was in an emotional state but I was here to restore it so that is what I
had to do.

   Break-ups are always hard, even as it turns out when it involves an
illicit affair.  I went through the typical I can't go on like this speech
but this wasn't the first time I took the podium to announce that.  This
time I was determined to make it different and I stood my ground and said
what I had to say.  The normal paces weren't being taken this time; instead
we sat and had some tea in his kitchen like the first time we consummated.
In a reserved way I made my heart felt good bye and thanked him for the
times we had together reminding him that we both knew it would have to end
like this.

   When I made it out the door the rain was beating down on the covering
that led to his front door.  The area was very cramped and I stood at the
top of the stairs to exhale and catch my breath.  As I was doing this Mark
stepped out of his house and grabbed me from behind.  A struggle then
ensued.

   "It's over!" He told him as he moved his hands forcefully around my
body.

   "Tell me what you want." He whispered into my ear as there was no space
between us.

   "I want to go home." I whimpered unconvincingly.

   "No, tell me want you want." The insistence in his voice could not be
ignored.

   "I want you to fuck me." I let out as I felt him taking my pants down.

   He fucked me on the staircase with my pants barely around my knees.  As
much as I wanted to resist he had long ago broken my will power.  The cold
rain continued the pound on the roof while it muffled my cries of passion.
There wasn't much room to move in the narrow staircase as he held me close
and humped with increasing urgency.  I felt extreme disappointment with
myself and it mixed with my shame but my body wasn't listening to my mind
as the intense show of affection was filling my void.  It didn't last long
until he was filling another void sort of speak, a much more physical void,
he was cumming inside of me.  I had asked him not to cum inside of me after
he had done it once before, we usually used condoms, but this time I felt
no desire to protest as I understood on a primal level what he was doing.

   We broke our physical connection as he withdrew his penis from my
opening.  I fumbled through my purse for some tissue to wipe up the mess. I
pressed the tissue on my vagina and then pulled my panties up to cover my
sex.  They were the sexy black ones that I had worn earlier in the day for
our morning meeting.  With the tissue and panties in place I pulled my
pants up and casually said good-bye.  I walked down the steps without
turning back.

   I drove around for a while feeling isolated in my car.  The intensity of
the rain had relented but it still drizzled through the darkened sky.  I
told myself that I would never go back there and that it was over.  I
hadn't ended it in the most convincing fashion, no, but in my mind I had
ended it.  I wanted to get home to my family ready to accept the new me;
the middle aged me.  I believe that my husband was right when he kidded me
about having a mid-life crisis, he just doesn't know how right it was.

   When I got home my hair was slightly wet from having been in the rain
briefly, but worse my pants were a bit wet from the activities of my
encounter.  My husband met me at the door and seemed very concerned about
my state of mind.  I told him that I was fine, that I just need to lay
down. We could discuss what to do about Justin later.

   Before bed I first went to the washroom to remove the tissue and clean
up any other evidence.  I flushed the tissue down the toilet and went into
the shower to clean myself up.  I took the panties and put them in the
middle of the laundry, I inspected them and there didn't seem to be any
obvious signs of cum on them, not that it really mattered as I was the only
one who was going to do the laundry anyways.  I put on my familiar navy
cotton panties and got ready for bed.  In the morning I got up early and
left for work before anyone could notice me.  I'm guessing that my husband
made breakfast that morning for the kids and was at least understanding
enough not to send me any messages chastising me for sneaking out.

   I wasn't having the easiest time concentrating at work; I even forgot to
pick up some samples from shipping; being that they are time and
temperature sensitive I ruined the entire batch.  I don't really work in an
environment where I am closely supervised so when my supervisor asked me to
come to his office I wasn't sure how to act.  He wasn't mad at me but he
seemed concerned and told me that I hadn't been myself lately.  Of course,
he was right but I wasn't about to confide the reasons as to why.  My job
was never in question as I am a valued member of the team but the fact that
he took notice was enough to make me shake my head.

   When I arrived home my son was ready to apologize and his words trembled
as he did do.  He knew that he was in a lot of trouble but I was still
having problems with his apology I just wasn't ready for it.  Maybe I
wanted him to feel worse about what he said.  I don't care what I have done
or how guilty I feel he doesn't have the right to talk to me like that.  We
avoided each other for the next two days until I was ready to make peace. I
gathered myself and took him to his hockey game that night, his dad was
going to, but I told him that I would be taking him as usual.  I didn't
want this incident to push me any further out of his life; I still loved my
baby boy more than anything in the world.

   As the weekend approached I made a clear statement of willpower that I
would not go and see Mark as I would usually.  Mark sent me a text asking
what time I would be over but I made it clear this time that I was not
coming and didn't answer the rest of the texts.  I was going to spend this
weekend at home with no expectations from anyone.

   The first thing on my list was the laundry, and I was going to do it
Saturday morning.  I got my husband to take Lisa to her gymnastics lesson;
I had to avoid Mark completely for at least a little while until he took
the hint.  I started to sort the laundry as I put some in the machine that
was already being filled with water.  I like to do the dark loads first as
it usually has more things that I have to hang to dry.  Mostly I will
separate Justin's and mine together as we are the ones most picky about
things not going into the dryer, then I move to my husband's and daughters.
Laundry if done all at once can be a daylong task, I usually do a few loads
during the week but this time I had let it pile up.

   I went through the laundry piece by piece to make sure I wasn't breaking
any washing instructions as I am careful not to.  When I started to wonder
where my black sexy panties were, the ones I wore last Sunday when I went
to Mark's.  They had to be in there somewhere and I looked closely not
really yet worried.  I still hadn't found them so my search became more
frantic.  I stopped the machine and started to pull the wet clothes out one
by one and no sign of the panties.  My heart nearly stopped cold.

   Had I been caught?  Maybe I didn't look close enough at the fabric. 
Maybe there was a big spot of semen looking me right in the face and I was
too emotional to notice.  Maybe he's going to pull them out and drop them
on the table and then what would be my defense?  I must have really screwed
up this time, but why is he waiting?  Is he trying to torture me?  By this
time I was going over every piece of laundry, light or dark, at least 5
times each.  Maybe they got into a shirt and I have to shake them out I
thought as I gave each shirt a shake.  Nothing, there was nothing and there
was no denying that the panties were not there.

   Last chance!  Maybe they're upstairs having fallen out of the laundry
basket.  I retraced my steps with my eyes covering every square inch of
floor.  I passed the closed door of my son's room and was back in my
bedroom.  I looked on the floor, under the bed, in the washroom and I even
went through my husband's things.  Other than the couple porn magazines I
did know he had I found nothing.  The panties were gone and all I was left
with was fright.

   Why now?  Why when I was determined to change did I have to go and get
caught?  I couldn't believe what was happening and worse I didn't know how
I was going to explain it.  Would he want to know who?  I could never tell
him, his opinion of me would be forever changed and it would crush him at
the same time.  All I could do was go back and do the laundry and wait for
the guillotine to drop.

   My husband didn't bring it up that day.  I didn't know what he could
have been waiting for but there was no mention of the panties.  The laundry
was done and sorted but there was still no sign of them; he must have had
them.  That evening we had sex and I initiated for the first time in a long
time.  I tried to do everything to please him, I sucked his dick, I got on
top and I even did one of the naughty things that he likes that is strictly
a special occasion thing I licked his asshole.  Afterwards he told me that
it was the best sex that we have had in years.  And there was no mention of
my lingerie.

   Once a few days past I figured that maybe there was never going to be
any mention of the soiled under garment.  I could shake the feeling that he
must have known, but if that were true he was keeping it to himself; I
couldn't even decipher a hint.  The weekend came and I skipped my
daughter's lesson again but made it up to my husband with another night of
sex.  Justin and I were not really on better terms but at least content for
the time being to leave each other alone.  I hated being shut out of his
life and this still gnawed at my soul.

   On Sunday, my husband took Lisa to the zoo for their dad-daughter time
and my son went off to his friends.  I was for the first time left alone
and it was Sunday.  I knew that I had to fight my temptation; I couldn't
slip up again I just had to be a better person.  I repeated these
sentiments to myself while I was nearly climbing the walls.  I had to do
something to keep my mind on the straight and narrow; I tried to think
about other things.

   My mind wandered until I started to think about just want my son does in
his room all the time and why is the door always closed?  It was with this
on my mind that I heard the hinges lightly squeak as I opened his door and
entered his room.  What was I doing here?  I always said that I would never
be one of those mom's that snooped in her kids rooms but I had also told
myself that I would never have been a lot of things that I had recently
became.

   I tip toed careful not to make a sound even though nobody was home.  I
didn't want to disturb even the smallest thing that might have given myself
away.  The first thing I went for was his lap top and I opened the screen
and pressed the power.  "Darn." I thought to myself as the screen required
a password to get on.  I pressed the power but it didn't go off, I looked
all over for another switch, I tired pulling the power cord but it had a
battery.  I was actually sweating from the pressure as I fiddled with the
machine to turn it off, until I remembered to hold the power button and the
machine powered down and turned off.  What a relief.

   I was in this deep so I wasn't quite done there.  I started to carefully
wade through the mess on his desk finding nothing of real interest.  I
looked in his closet, on his shelf and then finally under the bed.  Of
minor interest was a few porn magazines and a few CD's I assumed to be
porn. That stuff didn't bother me that much and I flipped through one of
the magazines to see what women my son was looking at.  They were typical
porn bimbos, lots of surgical tits and close ups of vaginas.

   As I was carefully replacing the magazine I noticed something on his
bedpost.  It looked like a piece of fabric but I wasn't sure.  His bed
frame in made of metal and the post comes apart at the top.  I tugged on
the post a bit and, pop, it came off.  I was not prepared for what I saw,
there they were what I searched the house high and low for.  My little
black panties were stuffed into my son's bedpost.  I think my jaw was on
the floor, I nearly collapsed on his bed as I picked up the intimate
lingerie.

   I wanted to see if I had missed any semen spots from Sunday and I held
them out to look.  Well if I had missed any they wouldn't have been
recognizable at this point.  Justin had clearly added lots of semen of his
own.  The panties were covered in dried and partially dried cum, there
wasn't much room that didn't have cum on it.  My son had been masturbating
into my panties and not just any panties but my sexy panties.  Something
came over me like all my nerves were exploding all at once.  I didn't know
whether to scream, cry or laugh.  I was very upset, why was he doing this?
Was there something wrong with him?  I'm his mother and I thought he hated
me.

   One thing I didn't want was another fight with my son, the other thing I
didn't want was for him to know that I've been in his room.  I stuffed the
panties back into the bedpost and tried to restore the previous order the
best that I could.  I was no longer thinking about going to Mark's place;
all I could think about was that I failed my son.

   Was he thinking about me?  Why my underwear?  Did he just like the feel?
Why from the laundry?  These questions and a million others entered and
exited my head like bullets.  I didn't want to think that my son was a
pervert.  Trying to figure out his behavior was like figuring out a seven
sided rubik's cube I could spend all day trying and still be at square one
or further behind than were I started.

   I decided to have a bath and try to forget about the whole thing. 
Forgetting about such a thing really wasn't a possibility but I was going
to give it my best.  I stripped in front of the large mirror in the main
washroom as I ran the bath water.  The mirror began to fog and I even
noticed a small smirk on my face as I looked my long legs up and down and
thought, "He does have one hot mama!" With that in mind I lowered myself
into the tub.

   All the hot water and relaxation in the world couldn't get my mind off
what I had found.  There was cum all over them, it looked like he "used"
them over a dozen times.  I wondered what he did when he used them, if he
stood over them or just wrapped them around himself.  The image sent
shivers done my spine and I tried to knock it from my brain.  When I got
out of the tub I decided to put on one of the sexy pairs of panties that I
had left even though I was content to stay home.

   I tried to see if there was anything different about Justin when he got
home but I could detect a thing.  Maybe my skills of reading emotions was
going away with my youth but if this was a game of poker he could have had
a full house and I wouldn't have known.  Moody?  Check.  Sort of rude? 
Check.  Hard to talk to?  Check.  As I stewed these things over it dawned
on me that these things are only true of me.  He's in fine moods around his
dad, I'm the only one who gets the rude attitude and I'm the only one he
shuts out of his life.  Something was going on but I didn't even know how
to begin to get into a discussion with him.

   There were so many questions that I had, questions that I didn't ever
expect to get answers to.  Still I wanted some solution; he had to see me
as a human being and as his mother.  For the past two years he had been
treating me like trash and now like an objectified piece of trash.  I admit
that I have done some bad things, things like infidelity and being somewhat
emotionally unavailable as of late.  That doesn't change the fact that I am
his mother, that I love him more than anyone in the world and that I
deserve respect for all the things that I have done for him.

   This can be a touchy subject between siblings and I would never say it
to my daughter but there is something different that I feel as a mother
toward my son.  It's a bond that is hard to describe to anyone who hasn't
felt his maternal tie.  Some people wonder how mothers can be in a court
room while her son is being sentenced for a horrible crime and stand by his
side but I understand it.  No matter if we have a fight or have an argument
the feeling that I have for my baby is that of intense love more than any
notion of love that I have ever known.  If my husband tried to pit my love
for him against that of my son he would find himself out in the cold.

   The things that I want for him in this world are the best and I'm
willing to fight even him to make sure that he gets them.  The things that
I do I do with his best interests in mind even if he doesn't feel that way.
In many ways I get along better with my daughter and I have plenty of love
for her so I hope this isn't being read the wrong way, it's just different
than the intense love I feel for my handsome baby.

   All that and I had no idea on how to relate to him at all.  We didn't
share any interests and I wasn't about to start playing video games, it's
also doubtful he was going to take up ballet; common ground is hard to
find. Most times he talks to me are preceded by his father saying "Will you
please talk to your mother?" I was at a loss of what to do.

   Laundry day came and this time my blue panties were missing.  There was
no frantic search this time I knew exactly where I would find them.  As
much as it pained me I had to go and see for myself.  I waited until the
house was empty and went to his bedpost.  Sure enough, the panties were
stuffed into the post and they too had semen stains all over them.  He must
have been some sort of factory, only a week had passed and there were at
least 10 different stains some on top of each other but noticeably
separate. I once again replaced the panties in his post, careful to keep
them in order, and sealed them in there.

   There was no doubt I had a full blown crisis on my hands.  My son was
having problems and I didn't know how to solve them.  I thought about
confronting him but that option wasn't considered long as the humiliation
he would surely suffer would far outweigh any good done.  So I turned to
the internet, I really had nowhere else to turn.  I couldn't talk to his
dad about this, I just couldn't.  I couldn't even talk to Sharon about this
and we share out secrets like twin sisters.  The internet was the only
place I could get advice that didn't talk back.

   First I made sure that I was completely familiar with the history
function on the browser and then I tried some key words and got various
hits.  One of the searches I did was "sons attracted to their mothers" soon
I was clicking on various sites that offered some insight into this
apparent phenomenon.  I also tried, "son takes my panties" and once again I
got hits.  It turned out that I wasn't alone.

   I spent the morning when I was supposed to be at work taking in as much
information as I could.  I even joined a female advice forum to try to
interact with other mothers.  The advice varied from the absurd to level
headed.  What I mostly found out was that it's pretty normal for a teenage
boy to be sexually attracted to his own mother.  The panty raiding may have
been more cause for concern, it probably indicated that he was feeling
confused and frustrated.  As a result he used my panties to bridge an
emotional gap he felt between me and him.  It was my job then to close this
gap, but all this research and I was still at square one!

   The other thing I ran into over the course of my search was a darker
side to the topic; I found erotica written about the subject.  I have
always enjoyed erotica; I started reading it back when all I could get my
hands on was a dirty romance novel as a teenager.  Now I was reading these
stories that were way past the erotica that I was used to.  It was dirty,
filthy and it described in detail sexual acts between mother and son.  My
jaw was locked open as I read the tales.

   By the time I closed the browser and deleted all the history I was
breathing pretty hard and I was trying to come out of my zone.  I felt
completely turned on, I felt the inside of my pants and I had basically wet
myself while reading.  As I was changing my underwear I had weird thoughts
on whether or not my wetted panties would be the next casualty to my son's
newly formed habit.  I did my best to push all the sexual stuff out of my
mind, I really didn't feel any danger of falling prey to it but it was
unsettling nevertheless.

   Justin is a handsome boy, but he is just that: a boy.  He's not exactly
the example of manliness that I would find sexually attractive.  He's
rather tall for his age but he's lanky too and doesn't have very good
posture.  I've almost given up telling him to stand up straight.  He
inherited his bone structure from me; I was a complete stick in high school
as well.  He has a handsome face; all in all he looks like a normal kid. 
He dresses like a bit of a skater but I've never caught him smoking pot or
even skipping school.  Like me he has brown hair and brown eyes but luckily
for him he is like his father in that he doesn't need glasses.  He's not
the most popular kid in school by any stretch but he does have his group of
friends and they wouldn't be considered the uncool kids either.  He's shy
around girls but I figure that will get better once he fills out a bit and
his skin clears up.

   The hockey season was coming to an end which meant that it was time for
the tournaments to begin.  Each year we would have to drive to the location
that the competition was being held, it was always outside of the city so
we would have to get a motel.  My husband's demands at work excluded him
from being a potential chauffeur so that meant four days with mommy
dearest. This year was no different than any year, I would always do the
driving but I didn't mind, I actually liked it.  It was a chance for it to
just be me and him and this time I was going to do what it took to bridge
the gap that had formed.

   He was just finishing packing the car when I heard my name called, "Mom!
I'm ready!" his voice boomed through the house like a demand.  "I'm coming,
I'm coming." I was quick to reassure.  I put on my yoga pants and my pink
jogging sweater because I wanted to be comfortable for the rather long
ride.

   In the car he had brought his I-pod, a device that was full of all sorts
of music I had no understanding of but I wanted to try to be hip.  This was
a brick wall as any time I expressed interest in one of his bands or songs
he would sigh and change the album.  It wasn't long until melodies were
replaced by hardcore rap that was as clumsy as it was vulgar.  I playfully
reminded him that his mom is from the 80's and know what rap is all about
and that this isn't it.  The notion that his mom ever listened to rap
seemed almost funny in a mean spirited way to him as he shrugged off my
contribution.

   He was already building a wall between us and it hadn't even been an
hour yet.  That was that, I was going to go head first into that wall, I
was going to talk to him about sex.  Not about my clothing going missing,
just about sex, let him know that he could talk to me and that he didn't
need to be confused about it.

   "Honey, I know that at this age you may have a lot of questions that you
don't think can be answered but I want you to know that I am here to answer
them the best I can" I almost stumbled through this opening, it didn't
sound like I thought it would in my head but it was out in the open I had
said it.

   "What are you talking about mom?  I don't have any questions." He said
in an avoiding tone as if he could sense the intonation in my voice meant
more than just "questions".

   I knew that I had to spit it out now so I swallowed hard and continued.
"I'm talking about sex Justin.  Sex, women and masturbation and
that......." He cut me off mid sentence.  "oh mom, please I don't need to
talk about that, I know about it."

   "What do you know?" I said almost playfully challenging his insistence.

   "I know that I don't want to talk about it with you."

   "Ok, I just want you to know that you can and that you don't have to be
shy with me." I decided to pull my tanks back and retreat knowing this was
a battle that I wasn't going to win.

   "Fine, now let's change the subject." He said obviously implying that
the next subject would be silence.

   The next hour was filled with silence and we didn't talk.  This wasn't
going the way that I had hoped.  It seemed like nothing was ever going the
way I had hoped.  I didn't want to blame myself because I don't think
anything good could come from that but I couldn't help but thinking those
thoughts.  If I thought them too much I would have probably cried so I
tried to push it out of my head; I couldn't get emotional or he wouldn't
respect me.

   We got to the motel and it's funny how something like a change of
scenery can change the mood.  Justin was now talking to me as if there was
no unpleasantly in the car.  I was happy that he seemed to brush it off and
we went to get something to eat.  I didn't like that he would be eating
fast food the day before his tournament started but it was late and that
was what he wanted so that's where we went.  By the time we got back to the
room it was sort of late, almost 10:00pm.

   "We going to order a movie mom?" he asked.  This had been our tradition
on the first night that we would order a movie to unwind from the long
drive.

   "Sure!" I said, excited that we had something we could do together that
didn't have to be awkward.

   "You decide want to get and I'm going to get changed for bed so that I'm
comfortable." I said already taking off my earrings.

   I started taking off my clothes in the washroom but I realized that I
forgot my bag in the room.  Without even thinking I went into the room in
my bra and panties to get the bag.  Justin was sitting on the bed in his
boxer shorts looking through channel.

   "Gross mom!" Was his reaction to seeing me.

   I stopped in my tracks "What's gross?  Me?" I was almost chuckling to
myself as I thought about his little secret.

   "Just put some clothes on." He said as he turned on his side in a rather
squeamish manner.

   "Young man, you've seen me in a bathing suit so what's the problem?"

   He wasn't talking anymore but his face was extremely red as if every
blood vessel had burst all at once.  Right then I did a double take of him
on the bed and noticed that something was standing to attention.  I didn't
really mean to but my nervous reaction was to laugh a bit but this was once
again the wrong move on my part.  Justin sprang to his feet with his hands
over his crotch and made a b-line to the washroom and slammed the door.

   I didn't know what to say.  I mean what could I say?  I knocked on the
washroom door and told him that it wasn't a big deal (maybe wrong choice of
words) and that they just get hard sometimes.  He was throwing a fit and
being a big baby; crying and the whole production.  I got tired of trying
to coax him out of the washroom so I told him that when he was ready he
could come out and we could watch a movie.  I wasn't in any mood to
overplay this and I didn't want to say the wrong thing to emasculate him
any further.

   It took about 20 minutes before he came out; I guess he figured out that
he had to sooner or later.  I was fully changed wearing my night gown and
under the covers on my bed in the two bed room.

   "Come on baby, sit up on the bed and let's find something to watch." I
said through the tension that could be cut with a knife.

   He sat on the foot of my bed and without saying anything picked up the
controller and started to flip through movies.  We had been through them
more than three times before exclaiming that there was nothing to watch but
he kept going through the categories anyways.

   The tension was pretty thick and I thought I could joke to break it. 
"You still haven't checked one category and from the looks of things you're
ready for one of those." I laughed so there could be no mistaking that I
was joking.

   He didn't really laugh but he didn't fly off the handle either; I guess
I got away with that one.  He flipped for five more minutes until.  "Sure,
I can order one of those." Thoughts raced through my head until I realized
what "one of those" was, he was calling my bluff!

   Nothing was working between us and I didn't know what to do I wanted him
to see me as cool and figured that it wasn't something he hadn't seen
before so I told him to go for it.  "You order the movie and I'll pay for
it."......................what was I getting myself into?

   It didn't take him long in the adult section to pick out a movie.  I had
a strange sense that I was continuing a cycle of sorts but part of me was
just happy to see him engaged with something we could do together.  My
heart was racing to the point where I could take my pulse without feeling
and my mouth was completely dry with shock.  In this state the opening
credits started.

   He kept his seat at the foot of my bed and started watching as the scene
opened to slow motion close-ups of a woman's body.  The bad music continued
through the credits until it opened to some awful dialogue.  This was a
really stupid movie with a plot to fit that description.  The movie was
about this super sexy team of real estate agents that would have to sell
mansions to rich clients.  Of course the clients would end up with the
agents, their boss would end up with the agents and yes, the agents would
even end up with each other.

   In the beginning we were both joking about just how bad the acting was
and how unrealistic the situations were but once the sex started he was in
no mood for light humor.  I hadn't really watched dirty movies since I was
a little girl and this one was pretty graphic.  There were extended
close-ups of the man's penis entering the woman's vagina, they showed the
man cum and there was lots of oral done.  As silly as it was it was turning
me on, but I think my son watching with me was more of the thrill.

   I wanted to know which girls he thought were hot and he was actually
answering me without the usual BS.  He seemed to favor the brunettes.  He
asked me if I liked the guys and I told him the truth that I didn't like
them all as they seem sort of greasy but there was or two that I found
attractive although one of them didn't take his clothes off.

   There wasn't much plot beyond what I have detailed it was one sex scene
to the next as I think the directors understood their demographic.  I was
sitting in a small dimly lit motel watching a porno with my son but I was
enjoying it.  He was moving around a lot and being generally squeamish and
he problem was a rather obvious one.

   "Honey, it's ok if you want to take care of that."

   He did confirm what I meant as he sat on the floor in front of the bed.
I couldn't see what he was doing but I knew that he was masturbating.  It
didn't take long before he let out a gasp and I knew that he was cumming.

   "Mom, mom, mom, mommy." he repeated over and over as his orgasm
subsided.

   I got up to get him a towel to clean it up.  When I returned he was
still sitting at the foot of the bed on the floor with his shirt pulled up,
his pants pulled down a cum all over his chest and stomach.  I threw him
the towel and he began wiping himself off.  At that moment I decided to end
the tension right there and I threw my nightie over my head so I was
standing there in just my bra and panties.  "Is that what you think is
gross?"

   "No, mom." he was able to reply.

   I bent down and took his already very hard penis by the hand and rubbed
it up and down a couple times while saying "Sweetheart I know about the
panties in your room"

   I was looking right into his eyes while I said this and he was releasing
more cum into my hand.

   I wiped my hand on the towel and stood up in front of him.  "Is this
what you wanted to see?"

   His head nodded in approval rhythmically up and down.  He kept his eyes
mostly on my mid section; he was looking right at my panty covered pussy.
His young penis was straining to get hard again having already cum twice.
The movie was playing in the background but neither one of use was watching
it.  He had a decent sized penis, not too big but not to small either.  In
fact I think his is bigger than his fathers.

   "Well, do you want to just look or do you want to touch?"

   He nervously put his hand on my leg and slowly made his way up my thigh.
His lips were trembling as it looked like he was trying to say something
but couldn't quite form the words.  He finally gathered enough composure to
say.

   "M-m-m-mommy, I w-w-w-ant to -fuck you!"

   I told him to get up on the bed and lay down on his back and he quickly
obeyed.  I stepped out of my panties and got ready to give him what he
wanted.  I wasn't even thinking about anything else, I was just thinking
that we were connecting and that is more than I could have said at any
other point in a long time.  His dick was standing up straight in the air
as I got on top of him.

   "Are you ready for this honey?"

   He nodded feverishly to indicate that he was.  I took this cue and
started to lower myself on his hardened cock.  He sunk in easily and
comfortably and I started to bounce up and down.  My son was fucking me. 
He was doing a pretty good job for his first time too as I bounced up and
down.

   While we did this forbidden dance on the bed all the arguments and
fights we had flashed through my.  In response I bounced faster and the
intensity heightened.  At that moment I started to verbalize my feeling.

   "So you think I'm a fucking bitch?" I wailed as he tried to drive it up
further inside of me.

   That pushed him over the edge and he started to spray my insides with
cum.  We had only been fucking for 5 minutes or so but it was the best 5
minutes I had ever had.  I collapsed on top of him like a balloon that was
suddenly relieved of it's air.  His dick was soft but still connected to my
sex as we started to kiss in the afterglow of making love.  I didn't want
to move, I wanted to stay in this wonderful bliss forever.  We continued to
make out and share small talk for the next hour.  I finally felt included
in his life.  During that time his dick was getting hard yet again.  I told
him to lay back and enjoy this and I started to suck his dick with careful
attention to be slow and gentle.  After I had given him his first blow job
we drifted off to sleep with his mouth planted firmly on my breast.

   We woke up in the morning and without a word we were engaged sexually
again.  This time he was on top of me in the missionary position and really
fucking the shit out of me.  I felt him become more sure and steady with
each thrust, I was proud to know that my son was good at sex.  He was
already lasting much longer and really getting into the passion of love
making.

   I wanted to show him something else so I got on my hands and knees in
front of him and he fucked me in doggie while I rubbed my clit.  I orgasmed
in a spasm of ecstasy under the continuing assault my son was giving my
pussy.  I could feel him transforming into a man as he fucked with greater
authority.

   "Mom, I love you so much, mom I love you so much" He chanted at he
filled my pussy with another six large blasts of cum.

   It felt so natural to hear him say that and I was in bliss.  The words
alone almost gave me an orgasm.

   "Honey, you make love so well, I love how you make love to me." And this
is the way I really felt, this wasn't just fucking we were making love in a
deep and meaningful way.  All of our frustrations with each other didn't
seem to exist anymore.  We continued to roll around in the bed kissing and
feeling each other.  I had never felt better in my life.

   I called the coach and told him that Justin was sick and wouldn't be
able to play.  Of course he wasn't really sick but he would be playing a
different game over the next 3 days.  We stayed in and made love the entire
time.  When we got ready to leave I realized that I had moved from one
affair right to the next but this time was with the man I loved more than
anything in the world.





   Mich