Mother son, the other part of the relationship, It was a usual Friday night, beginning with my usual visit to mom’s house for the weekend. It became the most unusual weekend of my life. When I arrived, mom told me that she’d seen an article in the paper that Unitech was accepting applications for summer jobs by e-mail. They were going to pay ten bucks an hour to students with computer experience.
It sounded like a perfect way to spend the summer before starting college in the fall, so I quickly sent in the application which said they would set up an interview by return e-mail if I met the requirements. Mom and I ate the dinner she made and I remember asking her if she was okay, because she seemed to be totally distracted.
I was nervous about the job application, and I wasn’t sure I had got all the details straight so I went on the computer to look at the e-mail I had sent. When I opened the folder, I saw mine and one that mom had sent. I checked mine and everything was fine. I thought that mom always deleted everything because whenever I used her computer it was always clean. But there was this e-mail that was sent at three in the morning, and when I looked at the address, it had the word erotica in the title. I felt a little guilty, but I couldn’t resist opening it. It said,
Dear Em,
Thank you so much for the stories you’ve shared about you and your son. You let me know that I’m not alone. I have feelings for my son and it has been very difficult for me to accept that. I was always a highly sexed person and my husband said that my appetite wasn’t normal. He didn’t complain for the first five years of our marriage, but when he became interested in other women, he found me too demanding. We’re not together anymore.
Your writing shows what a sensitive woman you are, but I didn’t know if it would appropriate, or if you would have time to let me tell you about my situation, and maybe get some advice from you. I don’t think I could ever act on my fantasies, but there isn’t anybody I know that I can talk with about this subject. Whatever your answer is, thanks anyway, and I’ll keep reading as long as you’re writing.
Sincerely, Paula
It’s difficult to describe that moment. So many things were going through my mind at the same time. I had to read it about three times before the idea sunk in. Amid all the mixed emotions reading about my mother’s sex life, one thing was undeniable; I felt a stirring in my groin that mom thought about me that way.
This was about as exciting as anything in my sex life had been. I was eighteen and still a virgin. I still blushed around girls had little idea what was going on. Like the time I was making out with a girl I had been seeing for a while. We were on a bed and she said, “I want you.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant and I said, “I want you too,” and just went on kissing her without doing anything else. You would have thought I was waiting for an engraved invitation. She broke up with me a while later and told someone it was because I was too inexperienced. No doubt about it.
I was totally charged up by what I had read. I must have looked at the words, ‘Highly sexed’, and ‘Feelings for my son’ about a hundred times. I spent the rest of the night imagining the unimaginable. I couldn’t sleep thinking about having sex with my mother. I was anything but turned off by it. I knew that a son isn’t supposed to want his mother that way, but I was wanting her from the tip of my stiffened cock to every position I imagined her in. I had gone triple X with my mom in a quantum leap. I almost had to stifle a yell because I came so hard.
I hoped that mom would write to that author again so I could read what she was saying. I got up around eight the next morning and after having coffee with mom I went to the computer to see if Unitech had answered. That was one reason; actually, I was more interested if Em had answered.
I had to go through mom’s bedroom to get to the small sitting room where she kept the computer. As I walked through it I was struck by both her presence and her absence. She was there in the cobalt blue dress that still graced the chair she had left it on last night. She was there in the fragrance of powder that added silk to a body I knew needed none. I knew it even though I had never actually run my hand from her calf to her thigh, or from her neck to the small of her back, where the curve of her ass rose to meet it. She was there in the hint of lavender that you could inhale if you came close enough to her skin. But she wasn’t there in the bed where I could only imagine what her pussy would look like with her legs splayed, waiting for her son to enter her. Since reading that e-mail, that was the picture I couldn’t get out of my head. And I didn’t want to.
At the computer, there was nothing in the in-box, but when I looked at the sent e-mails, there was another one that mom had sent. I guess Em wrote her back sometime early Saturday morning and mom must have deleted it, but she didn’t realize that her sent e-mails were being automatically saved for the day. Mom wrote,
Dear Em,
Thanks so much for your answer. I appreciate your warnings that these things can be difficult and that once that physical boundary is breached, there’s almost no turning back. It just seems to be getting worse for me all the time. I’ve had enough of men to last a lifetime, but just being near my son stirs a hunger in me that I’ve never experienced. I know that the excitement of incest is part of what’s driving me, but I’m so drawn to him. His name is Paul. When he was born my then husband said, “We have to name him Paul, because he’s so you.” Even though he’s only been with me on weekends for years now, I’ve felt him as part of me, always. Em, I’m actually aching for him. I could go on, but I’m afraid I’ll embarrass both of us. Thanks for being there.
Love, Paula
All of Saturday served to accelerate my feelings. I fantasized, I masturbated, I decided, and then undecided, and then decided again to do something about it. I left the house in the afternoon and shot some hoops with my friends. I even missed the lay-ups. That evening when I came home, I couldn’t stop looking at my mother’s body. In my crazy head, mom was telling me something. The top she wore looked a little bit tighter; the skirt looked a little bit shorter. The heels were a little bit higher.
Yes, I’d noticed she had nice tits and ass before, but it hadn’t been attached to my desire. Yes, I’d noticed before that her legs looked great in stockings, but I’d never thought of my hand being between her thighs. No, I certainly never imagined that the first woman I might try to sleep with would be my mother. But my sex soaked brain was telling me to try, and the hard-on that hadn’t gone down all day agreed.
Pages:
[