I had my son when I was just 15. I’ve recounted I don’t know how many times just how stupid I was. But you never think it’s going to be you who gets caught, do you? Suffice to say, the father – or “sperm donor” as I call him – disappeared. I know he still lives in the area, but he’s now married with two little ones. I expect his son never enters his head. Bastard.
It’s been a struggle, bringing up a son on my own. My parents helped, obviously. Mum was a diamond! Dad, after he got over the shock of becoming a Granddad so soon, has been a rock! I’m very lucky.
But the luckiest thing has been my son. The first time I held him I felt such a rush of love through my entire body, I can’t even tell you. His little face was a Godsend. The way his little eyes lit up whenever he saw me was just awe inspiring. Then the first time he said “Mum!” Oh, my heart melted. His first steps. His first drawings. His first day at school, and how I broke my heart leaving him. His first school report, his first goal playing for the school team. His first sleepover. His first little sweetheart at school – holding hands and she stole a kiss – the little minx! And then his first day at secondary school – looking so smart in his uniform and tie. And then something I had really never imagined or thought about: His first signs of puberty.
I first noticed his shape changing a little. I noticed his legs becoming more muscular, his arms and chest too. Hairs on his arms and legs became more pronounced and they sprouted on his chest and armpits too. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if they had sprouted somewhere else as well.
I didn’t think too much about it until I walked into his room to wake him one morning for school. He was still asleep and as always he was half in and half out of the duvet. What caught my eye as I looked over his developing body was this – amid the suspected curls below his washboard tummy was the very real and very hard evidence that my boy was becoming a man. I couldn’t help but look. Even worse, I knelt next to his bed to get a closer look. It was beautiful. Standing proud; tight, veiny skin stretched over his rod like stretched silk. It was taut at the base, pulling his nut-sack close. Up its length my eyes coursed to the swollen glans at the top: A perfectly shaped Fireman’s Helmet – shining in the morning sun, and that little eye glistening at the top.
I swallowed hard, realising that my son’s tool had made me ever so slightly moist below. I quietly stood, my knees cracking as I did. But he was still in the land of Nod. I quietly left the room, and went back to my own. Suffice to say, I relieved myself.
Afterwards I felt so dirty, so perverted, so degenerate. I determined never to do that again. I knocked his door and shouted for him to get up from that day onwards.
Thereafter I was aware of catching myself looking at him in a less than a motherly way. Dear God, what was wrong with me?! But I kept my motherly distance and that was fine.
It was a month or so later, when I was cleaning his room, that I found something I really hadn’t expected. As I changed his bed and tucked his sheet down the wall side of his bed I touched something else. It was another material that felt familiar to my fingers. I managed to trap it between my two fingers and pulled it gently free. And there, in my hand, was a pair of my panties. It was a lacy pair I had noticed I couldn’t find. I was sure I had put them in the wash about a month ago, and they had never turned up since. But here they were, in my son’s bedroom, down the side of his bed.
I wasn’t ready for this. I had never even imagined this. But here it was.
I looked at them, wondering what he could possible be doing with them. Then my mind opened to the possibilities. Oh My God! My own son was using my panties to masturbate with! But even though I was shocked, I couldn’t help wondering how exactly he was using them. Was he sniffing them? Was he wrapping them around his beautiful penis? Was he coming in them? – I stopped at this last one, bringing them close to my nostrils and breathed them in deeply.
What greeted me surprised me. I breathed in me. Deepest most sensuous me. Sexual me. My feminine aroma; full and musky. A hint of spice. I knew that smell, but I had never paid it any attention. I had never thought it more than a discard of female being. But now I was appreciating it for the first time. Shown by my own son just how sexy that smell was. How sexual. How deeply arousing. Even there, in my son’s bedroom, I was aware of being excited.
There was no other smell on them, just me. I sat down on his unmade bed and breathed in, trying to imagine the excitement of a twelve year old boy as he sniffed his mother’s panties. Here I was, just twenty seven years old, thinking about the sexual peccadilloes of a twelve year old boy – my son, no less!
And yet it excited me as I breathed in me and thought of him. I found myself lying back on his bed, my legs apart, as I thought about him doing the very same thing in the very same spot. I realised he would be doing something else too – stroking that beautiful boner I had seen a month before. That boner I had not allowed myself to think about. That boner I had a perfect mental picture of that now came to me and made my mouth water!
I was moist below. I could feel that stirring in my panties. That burning warmth. That familiar excitement. That tortuous pleasure that had gotten me into so much trouble thirteen years earlier. Here it was again.
I pulled up my short denim skirt and plunged my fingers deep into my red lace panties. There I found my burning lips, my sizzling bud and my boiling hole! Jesus, I was wet! I played fast in my giddy game, sniffing my odour deep into my nostrils, making them flare with its heady musk. But the real action was in my mind. Watching my son stroke his strong straight tool as he drank in my odour, my panties placed upon his face, its crotch over his nostrils. I strummed fast and free. My excitement built. I could feel that special feeling welling up as I dreamed about my boy with his cock in his hand, dreaming of me.
And suddenly my banks burst, my river overflowed and the flood began to happen! I bit my lip and seethed as I felt that effervescence froth through my tingling pubic hair and my hot wet womanly cum release into my red lace panties. I played on, reaching ever increasing little climaxes into my red lace naughtiness. Every fourth or fifth excited strum gave another gush of hot sex juice into my increasingly sodden snatch catcher. I flicked around my burning bean, teasing her, torturing her, beating her into submission until she gave her sweet juice to my sweltering crotch pocket. Is this what you like? – I thought of my son. Is this how you picture me when you pleasure yourself and your beautiful beating cock?
I went for one final cum. I had to cum with my little boy and in my mind he was still stroking his throbbing cock. Still bashing the bishop! Still choking the chicken! In my mind, he was doing it for me, and I was doing it for him. He was tugging away like his young life depended on it – me with him in pace as I strummed and plunged and strummed again. We were going to cum together – I could feel it, picture it. He was just about to cum. I could see his young little face, contorted in sexual pleasure as he pleased himself and me. Suddenly he was grunting, his perfect little cock spraying jets of white pearly cum up over her his chest as I felt that burning rush of fire below and washed my love tunnel with my womanly liqueur.
I stayed that way for several minutes, not sure if I was relieved, ashamed or even more excited by what I had done. Finally, I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling he had looked at in just such a position. I could feel the wetness between my legs. I was awash with my juices, and my panties were sodden. I lay there catching my breath, my chest heaving. And slowly I gathered myself together. So this is what he got up to in his bed at night. Well, I had better not disappoint him.
I held up my old panties and smiled. I would take them and put them back in the wash. But he wouldn’t be without panties if that is what he wanted. How could I deny him? He was my son. I tucked my thumbs into my stringy lace undies and sexily shimmied them down off my wet pussy, off my peachy ass and up my slender thighs, coating them with streaks of glistening silver. Then down my shapely calves and off my delicate feet.
I raised them to my nose and inhaled them, flaring my nostrils. They had not yet had time to ripen, my juice not fermented to the heady aroma it would. I touched the tip of my tongue to its coated crotch and savoured the tangy taste. Yes, my boy would love these. I screwed them up as I had found the other pair and leaned over to push them back where I had found their sister set. I sat up finally, and saw my denim skirt was wet where the panties had fallen short in absorbing my excitement.
I stood up and noticed a small thumb sized patch of darker cotton on his sheet. I smiled quietly wicked as I pulled the duvet over it and left the room.
Ben came home from school and seemed his usual self. We spent the night watching TV and I knew he hadn’t found my panties yet. When we finally got up to go bed I could feel my insides clench as I went to my room and Ben went to his. I listened intently, my door open and me barely daring to breath. I could hear nothing though. I tip-toed to my door and peered down the hallway to Ben’s firmly closed door. I found myself creeping down the hallway towards that door, only then realising I was in the slightest satin shift should he open the door and see me. But somehow that too excited me. I had no undies on either.
I reached his door and listened intently, trying to hear through two inches of solid wood the shuffling going on under my son’s duvet. Or maybe he had actually kicked off the covers and was now stroking his beauteous love rod with one hand, holding my damp red lace to his face, inhaling the aroma and beating off even faster. I found my hand had slipped under my red satin shift and was now toying with my lips and velvet folds.
I looked down at my wet fingers and then reapplied them. Then I heard the unmistakable groan of young male masturbation from inside his closed room. I found my clit and circled her, teasing her out to play. I heard his breathing increase. My little boy was starting to reach climax. I concentrated on my heart-beating bud and diddled like fury. I wanted to cum the same time as my gorgeous son. I heard him grunt – one – two – three – and a long relieved gasp escaped his little lips. I was almost there, almost with him, but then I heard movement inside his room. He could open the door and catch his own mother jilling herself at his door! I scuttled down the hallway and into my room like a naughty schoolgirl.
I heard his door open and he went into the bathroom. I heard him peeing and sighing with further relief. Then, as I peeked out of the door I saw him go from the bathroom to his room, and he was perfectly naked. I couldn’t believe my naughty little man had allowed himself the extra pleasure of scampering about naked at night. His taut little butt cheeks were cheekily mooning me as he went for his door, and as he turned to closed his door I spied his still hard little love stick – except it wasn’t so little as I remembered. It was even bigger than his morning glory.
I dived onto my bed and tore off my shift. I couldn’t believe I was having these sexual thoughts, feelings and encounters with my very own boy! I didn’t let it stop me though. I was instantly enjoying the fantasy of watching him, bedside as he wanked himself over me. I strummed furiously, my insides afire. My bud crying for mercy – of which there was none – as I thrashed her, beat her, until finally she gave up her glorious ecstasy and it coursed through every fibre of my flesh. I rushed below, a warm gulp of luscious nectar, which I felt trickle down the cleft of my bottom and I let it soak into the bed-sheets underneath.
Morning came and my alarm awoke me from my peaceful sleep. I woke with nothing on my mind but maybe catching sight of my boy’s body once more. I got up and slipped on my silk robe. I was all too aware of how short it was, but that excited me too as I went to Ben’s room. He didn’t stir when I opened the door. I know how to open all my doors very quietly. I moved to beside his bed. His covers were still over him, but sleeping on his back I could clearly see the tentpole making his duvet into a Big Top Circus Ring. That’s my boy! I smiled.
“Ben… Ben… it’s time to get up” I chuckled a little at my words.
Ben stirred. He opened his eyes and looked at my naked thighs. He tried to pretend he wasn’t looking, but it didn’t fool me. Then he realised he had a morning boner and turned on his side to disguise it.
“Come on, sleepyhead. Up you get!” I smiled, and I left the room to return to my own for my morning fix of finger.
A breakfast I still wore my little robe. I could feel his gaze on me as it hugs every curve I have to offer. And I still hadn’t put on any panties. As I sat there, my juices still slowly seeping from my weeping willow, I eyed him over. He was quiet, but he stole looks at my body as much as he could, and I let him. I was enjoying his attention. Strange attention from a boy to his mother, but who could blame him?
As he got up to go for school I noticed a tent in his trouser. I got up quickly as he darted for the doorway.
“Just a minute, Mister.” I said and he stopped dead.
Maybe he thought my wet panties had been some kind of trap – I had found the other pair and had left a new pair to embarrass and belittle him. I knew. He knew I knew. And I know he knew I knew. That was the state of things. So, as I stopped him and his boner running for the door there was this knowledge between us.
“Don’t I get a hug?” I asked.
He paused, falteringly, thinking, about to refuse. But then they walked to me, my son and his boner. As I pulled him close to my chest I felt his muscle nuzzle into my crotch, under my robe and pressing into my bare wet pussy underneath. Oh Lord! I closed my eyes, a little shudder rippling through me as I came a little on his cock. I let him go and he stood back. I couldn’t help noticing his tent was now doused in my liqueur, staining it darker where his cockhead would be. I let him go, wondering how long it would be before he noticed. He was at the front door when he glanced down, then looked back at me as I waved a little teasing wave.
As soon as he left I needed another fix of finger. I looked at my plate; the sausages I had cooked subconsciously now offering themselves to me. I put one leg up on a chair, gently opening my legs and I took one. I pressed the warm firm meat to my seeping self and pressed it easily inside me! Warm, firm meat inside my soft wet self. I pretended this was Ben’s boner finding its way back between my legs, back to the hole from which he came. I pulled in and out, working up a rhythm as I thought of him and his delightful little dick. Not so little. But all mine. In and out I fucked. Ben fucked, fucked me, his Mum! I was reaching that height from which we all seek to fall and as I worked my Ben’s cock in and out of me, that hot meat that I so needed, I peered over the precipice of pleasure and fell – rushing down the weightless freefall of ecstasy: My skin shivering with tingles all over my body, my breasts sizzling with heartbeat bliss, and my pussy oozing pure joy over my little sausage man; my Ben.
Just then the mail dropped through the front door mailbox. I looked about me, the room feeling slightly surreal as I came back to reality. I pulled his meat from inside me and looked at it. Unable to stop myself, I took it in my mouth. The mix of flavours; meat, grease and liquid me just filled my taste buds. I sucked it dry, fellating it, until there was no more to suck but the juices from the end of the sausage. I sucked that too. Then, rather cruelly I thought, I bit off the end and chewed on it like some sadist bitch! I smiled again to my naughty sexy self.
I remembered my panties in his room, and I leapt up and rushed up the stairs like a schoolgirl after her first crush. I entered his room and stalked over to his unmade bed. I lowered my face to his freshly changed sheet, just the day before. I could smell his scent on the sheet already. What had he been doing? – The naughty boy!
I reached over to where I had put my panties, down the side of his bed and sure enough, there they were. I pulled them up to my nose and breathed in my own aroma, but wait! There was now the unmistakable smell of semen in there too! I opened them up and could see a freshly laid trail of pearly white cum along the gusset of my panties. I breathed it in, exciting myself, and let the tip of my tongue taste his swimming semen. I fizzed on my tongue, the little sperm still actively swimming. I swallowed. Then I held the panties open so I could see them fully as I put first one and then my other leg into its leg-holes. My son’s messy cream lined the gusset as I pulled them up, watching as the cummy mess meshed with my moist muff and melded with my pouting pussy cheeks. I felt the cold cum seep into my pussy mould, between my lips, hugging me tight in my panties and I pulled them firmly up. Dear Jesus, this was wrong! And yet it felt so incredibly exciting!
I walked around for hours in my cum soaked panties, now and then stopping to see to my overwhelming excitement and adding yet more of my own cum to the mix. Finally around midday day I decided I had to take them off. I had to take a shower and they really needed washing. I did so, and carried on the day like a normal Mum. I knew I would have to go to work, and I had to get my head in order. I could not be serving at the restaurant where I work with the smell of pussy emanating over the hors-d’oeuvres! I got myself ready for my short shift at the restaurant and went to work.
It was a busy afternoon and I was rushed off my feet. I returned home at 4.30 and there seemed to be no one home. But kids these days; it’s all ipads, iphones and Xbox and I expected he was in his room doing whatever they do. I kicked off my shoes and lay down on the sofa. I switched on the TV and fell asleep watching catch-up Eastenders. When I woke up it was dark.
I got up slowly, my bones clicking back into place as I moved stiffly. I looked into the kitchen and could see some used plates and cups. He’d fed himself at least. Then I started that long slow hike up the wooden hill to bed.
I reached Ben’s room and gently opened the door to say goodnight.
“Goodnight, Ben…” I stopped.
Ben was lying naked on his bed. His duvet was at his feet, and he had his muscular little legs bent at the knee so his feet were flat under the quilt. His hands were in his crotch; one cradling his balls and the other stroking his beautiful cock. His flat chest looked odd with his arms starting to bulge out from them. But I guess they were getting lots of exercise. But on his face were those self same panties I had found earlier, found his cum on, snuggled to my pussy then cum in all over again, several times. I had put them in the wash, but here they were, on my son’s face as he sniffed them deeply.
All this I took in, in just a second. But Ben jumped! My panties flew off his face as he tried to cover his boner up really quick. I couldn’t help myself. I smiled and I walked over to him. I don’t suppose I looked much in my pulled out blouse and my mid-thigh black skirt, but I gave him the sexy walk all the same and I could see him looking at my legs, even though he looked terrified.
I leaned over and snatched my panties off his bed.
“Now, I thought I had put these in the wash,” I said quietly.
“I’m sorry, Mum” he blurted.
I looked into his poor little face. I felt so sorry for him.
“So, you like to use my panties… when you masturbate?”
He nodded, not quite sure how this was going to go.
“Do you know how wrong that is? To sniff your mother’s panties?” he was squirming “To cum in your mother’s panties?”
“I know, Mum, I’m sorry.” He said; his voice cracking as he did.
I looked at him, tears starting to well up in his eyes.
“But it’s nice, isn’t it?”
He looked at me, confused.
“Sexy.” I whispered.
I sat on the side of his bed and he nervously moved over, still trying to hide his boner: A teenage boner is an impossible thing to stifle; it has a mind of its own; a will of its own; and Ben’s was going nowhere. I placed a hand on his chest and smoothed over his beautiful young body.
“Growing up is confusing. All these feelings, all these urges…” I trailed down to his washboard stomach, over his tight little six-pack, and touched his cock-shielding hands. “Let me see,” I said quietly.
He looked at me – fear in his eyes. Was I going to scold him further for having a boner? I smiled reassuringly and nodded. Nervously his shaking hands moved away from his raging rod. I could feel my own excitement leek gently into the panties I had on. It was even bigger than I had seen him get before.
I felt my gooey excitement gather in my drivelling pussy. Should I touch it? Would I leave an emotional scar on his psyche if I dared to cross that boundary? If I touched his swollen member, stroked his hard young cock, up and down, giving him more excitement than he had ever had by himself? Would I damage my growing boy?
I smiled warmly at him, “It’s very nice, Ben: Very manly. You should be proud.”
He didn’t react, still smeared with fear, but his panic was subsiding.
“You carry on enjoying yourself, Ben.” I stood up, my reason returning to me, but still battling with my own womanly lust. “But you can’t use these anymore,” I said holding up my reclaimed panties, “they’re musty”. Seeing his bare young cock there must still have been having an effect on me, because I hitched up my skirt and tucked my thumbs into my snug fitting panties and dragged them free – down, exposing my thin fuzz of curls, down, exposing my puffy pussy, glistening with my womanly wetness, down my slender legs, my panties visibly dark where my wetness had soaked in, and off. I pulled my skirt back down into place and stood up properly.
“You can use these ones. They’re fresh.” I said.
His eyes were big and wide and I noticed his hand move toward his throbbing cock.
“Here you go” I said, offering them.
He took them from me and I smiled, pleased to see him accept my gift. I was all too aware of my juices now running down my inner thighs. It wouldn’t be long before he would see my excitement from beneath my skirt, if he had not already noticed the bullets I was concealing in my bra. I walked to the door and turned.
“And Ben, when you need a fresh pair of panties… just ask.” I said and I closed the door. I listened as he got to work, but now amongst the groans and heavy breathing I could hear the most amazing word repeated over and over, “Mum… Mum… oh, Mum…”.
I went to my room and I masturbated to ecstasy and back, over and over. I couldn’t get the whole thing out of my mind. I soaked my bed and I had to take a shower right after. I couldn’t settle after my shower, I don’t think I slept a wink. I had all these images flying through my head of my beautiful young son stroking his manly tool. I just wanted to be part of that.
I watched as dawn crept through my bedroom curtains and I was still awake, alternating between wild fantasies, guilt and working out the realities of touching my son. I got up, naked, and walked across my room to my chest of drawers. I opened my underwear drawer and found my sexiest thong. It was grey lace and satin with a thin gusset and a layer of cotton there for comfort. I pulled it on and cracked open my bedroom door. The hallway was quiet and still, dark but for the morning light creeping through the bathroom door.
I tiptoed down the hall, naked but for that thin strip of lacy grey. It felt so naughty, so wrong, and I had a flashback of doing the very same thing when I was a teenager, creeping naked to my parents door. And just like then I stopped and listened, and touched myself, feeling over my swollen breasts and down to my cosy-v. I eased open Ben’s bedroom door and peered inside. He was sound asleep. My eyes never left him as I tiptoed to his bedside. And standing beside my sleeping son I started to feel myself all over, my fingers delving into my cosy crotch and teasing my sweet juices from within. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to see if he was sporting his usual morning glory, but I daren’t. Instead I rubbed my cooch, and toiled my sill, pleasing my ever growing excitement, torturing my fiery loins and oozing my womanly cum right into my dainty lacy satin sling. I could feel my passion grow as my legs shook and my breathing went shallow. I could not believe I was doing this, but as I looked into the face of my boyhood angel my breath left me in a gusty gasp and my crotch filled with warm, gooey cum. I shuddered all over as I climaxed and stood there, almost exhausted, but more turned on than ever I had been.
I looked at Ben’s face as I raised my fingers to my nose and smelled my womanly aroma. I tasted myself on the tip of my tongue and could barely stop myself as I took more from my crotch and gently wiped it upon my son’s lips. He stirred in his sleep and I just lifted his covers to see his rampant young cock winking back at me like an evil uncle, taunting me with my own sweet lust.
I knelt down next to him. And without thought of the consequences I took its head into my mouth.
To Be Continued…?