Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy. Love Mica xx Yorkshire England.
Yesterday had been a bit daunting. I was still trying to process the events that had led me to giving my son a blow job. I sent him to his room after we had finished and I took a slow hot shower, washed my hair thoroughly, and then dried it properly, not rushing or getting side tracked. The thunder storm had lasted for around an hour, and it conjured up images in my mind of Dante's Inferno, probably instigated by my guilt at seducing my son.
Today I was hugging a cup of coffee, sat in the conservatory as the sun baked the garden dry. Yesterday's rain had been heavy, a needed fillip for the plants, but not long lived enough to get deep into the soil where it is really needed. I was wearing a bra, a blouse, knickers and a skirt. All very decent, although I had a hankering to lock the door and walk around naked. I didn't know why.
Jack was out, he had gone to friends for a gaming day, I didn't get that, it seemed such a waste. Totally unproductive waste of time in my eyes. At least we had not had penetrative sex, I took that as a small consolation. I didn't have 'girlfriends' that I could go out and lunch with to discuss our teenage sons. I had to deal with this by myself. I had enjoyed the orgasm, who doesn't like an orgasm, but it was still a forbidden act. Incest.
Could I trust him to keep quiet about it? I doubted it. Would he want more? Almost certainly. Did I want more? Ah, there was the crux. I didn't have an overwhelming urge to shag my son, in fact, I wasn't entirely sure why I had allowed yesterday to progress beyond talking. Were my actions subliminal? Did I secretly want to shag my son? I looked long and hard at my soul, trying to work out if it had been me all along.
I unbuttoned my blouse at the BBQ, leaving my bikini covered body easily visible to a hoard of late teenage boys. I knew I did that. Did that constitute a provocative action? I thought not, I had thought that leaving my blouse on, but open, constituted an appropriate mum act. Surely walking or sitting around in my Bikini would have been as if I were advertising my wares.
Going upstairs and putting on a small bikini and sitting front of my son. What did I expect would happen? I should have realised that it would almost certainly have resulted in sex, in some format. Did I expect that? Was I basically inviting him to shag me?
I could not resolve it in my mind. The sensible side of me was firmly on the 'it was not invited' footing, the inner tart was just shouting 'admit it, you want to shag him.' Did I?
I went inside, my head all over the place still. I peeled some potatoes; we would have bangers and mash for dinner. Then I went through the washing, between us, there was enough of a 'smalls' load for a wash. I took the point never to examine his underwear closely, he put it in the laundry, I washed it. I had zero interest in what happened inside his pants.
I wondered if he took an interest in my knickers. Did he 'borrow' some after they were in the wash, and if he did, what on earth would he do with them? I pulled a couple of pairs of my knickers back out of the wash and looked at them. Oh.
Where did that thought come from? Why did I look? I was in blissful ignorance before, and now I could not deny the evidence in my hands. Both pairs of my knickers were covered in what could only be dried semen. There could be no doubt that Jack was using my knickers to masturbate into. I wondered how long this had been going on. It could have been just since the BBQ or from a time before, I had no way of knowing, I had never checked, I mean, why would I?
I put one pair to my nose and sniffed. The unmistakable odour of woman, stale, me, and the smell of dried sperm filled my nostrils. Oh. I put them back into the machine. That kind of threw me. What else I wondered. How long had he been watching me? How long had he been doing whatever he did with my knickers? Did he just masturbate into them, or did he sniff them first?
My mind was agog. I wasn't sure how to handle this new information. He was nineteen, legally a man, biologically my son, he could have sex with whomever he wanted, just not legally with me.
I knew that he had sex with at least some of his girlfriends, some had stayed over, and there are some sounds that you can't hide, nor some evidence that needed to be disposed of a little better than dropping used condoms in the bin, the bin that your mum empties. I knew from yesterday that he had a reasonable knowledge, and that with some refinement, he would make a good lover.
His dick was not too big as to cause discomfort, and believe me, a very large porn star sized penis is uncomfortable if you are not used to it. He just needed to learn to slow down, be softer, be gentle and then he will be okay, but he has the impatience of youth against him.
Jack texted to say he was on his way home, so I put the potatoes on to reheat ready for mashing and the sausages back in the oven to warm. Butter and cream out of the fridge. I toyed with adding some cheese to the mash, but decided against. The potatoes were boiling, so I strained the water into a jug ready to make the gravy, and started mashing the potatoes, adding plenty of butter and some cream. You have to be careful not to overwork the potato or it goes gloopy.
Satisfied with the mash, I lidded it and put it to one side and made the gravy with the saved starchy potato water. I heard the front door slam and jack was home.
"How was your day?"
"Not so good, I got eliminated before the Battle Royal."
"Oh, that's a shame," I said having no idea of what the consequences of that actually were. "Hopefully bangers and mash will help cheer you up."
"Mm, yes mum, thanks, I'll just go wash up."
I put a mini mountain of mash on our plates and stuck three sausages in each and added a small lake of gravy. I have to say it looked so inviting. There was no talking during tea, just the sound of us enjoying our food, simple food, but my Lord it tasted so good.
"After I have loaded the dishwasher I am going to settle on the sofa, will you do me a G & T, but not as strong as the other day?"
"Okay mum."
I stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and set it to run overnight on the cheap electric and went through to the lounge.
"Here you are mum," Jack said passing me a G&T.
"Thank you." I sank into the sofa and took a sip. It was good. "This good, thank you."
"No worries."
"So, really, how was your day?"
"Unbelievable actually."
"Well, I am the one that has to judge if it is believable or not."
