I was 38 years old, the first time my sons and I fucked. My husband had passed away 15 years ago and I had raised two twin boys on my own. I didn't have much of a social life, between work and the attention that my boys craved I had no time for dating. I had gone out a couple of times in all those years but never had a steady relationship. Something about being a single mother always scared off the men that I had been seeing. It really didn't matter much to me though; I had never been one of those women that craved a lot of sexual attention and mostly preferred to do it myself when needed. Which to tell the truth wasn't very often, only about once a month would I have to masturbate and I always did it quickly with not that much enjoyment. It was always more of a chore to do this but if I didn't I'd never be able to get to sleep.
When my boys turned 18 I began to date a man from work on a regular basis. The boys didn't need me at home as often and I didn't need to worry if they'd be all right. I could always tell that my two children never really liked the fact that I was out with someone other then them and I would never bring him home with me on nights that we would have sex. We would go to his place or to a hotel room. He was a charming man, standing around six-foot tall with dark black hair that was graying at the temples. His face had the roundness of a boy and his eyes were crystal blue. When he looked at you it was though he was looking into your soul. He reawakened my sexual desire and I was so happy about that. When we made love, and that was just what it was he never just fucked me, he knew exactly all the right spots to touch me and drive me insane with passion. It was the first time that I had enjoyed any type of sexual experience since my husband died. I was beginning to think that I was falling in love with this man and had made it a point to talk to my boys about it.
My boys, Tommy and Adrian, had always been Momma's boys. They had always been very protective over my since they were tots and had never wanted my attention drawn from them at anytime in their life. Even then being as old as they were they would still crawl into bed with me to sleep if they had had a bad dream or were anxious about something they had to do in school the next day. I had never minded them doing this and would lay there with them, their arms wrapped around me tightly until they fell asleep, then I would move from the bed to the couch or go lay down in one of their bedrooms to fall asleep myself. It was so on the night that I was going to speak to them about the man I was dating that they both had climbed into bed with me. I probably should have been more conscience of what I was wearing as they grew older but had been laying with them for so long that I never thought about it. That night I was feeling pretty sexy so I had put on one of my satin teddies before laying down to read my novel not really thinking at all that they would come in to lay with me. I had planned to read a chapter or so then put on my robe and go to each one of their bedrooms separately to speak to them.
As I lay there getting more and more into my book, I heard my bedroom door open and they both walked in wearing nothing but their briefs. I found this to be odd because most of the time they would not allow me to see them in just their underwear and always yelled at me if I so happened to open their bedroom doors while they were changing. I put down my book and watched as they both came to either side of the bed. They were handsome young men, having the same deep auburn color of my hair, piercing green eyes and build of body like their father. They were tall and muscular from the sports they played and I heard many girls swoon over them as we would walk down the street or in a department store. I was very proud of my boys and it hit me then that they would soon be leaving for college. They had both been accepted into a school many miles away from me and with the thought of this I began to cry.
