All my life or at least as far back as I can remember I thought I was strange. I thought only I had ideas, desires and inclinations like these. I suffered for it. They started when I was twelve and continued unabated until as a forty three year old woman, I've had my first taste of relief. I'm still amazed that the one who has brought me some peace is my son.
The trigger or trauma or blessing that opened my sexual life was the last spanking my father ever gave me. I can hear what he said before taking me over his knees, "Rosemarie... Rosemarie, there are consequences." I cried and I came. I couldn't catch my breath and I didn't know what happened. What I felt between my legs and throughout my body frightened and thrilled me. I'm not sure if he stopped after that because he felt I was too old or he recognized that something was different. That night I masturbated for the first, second and third time in my life. I don't remember what I thought about but I do remember how much I wanted to come.
I loved coming, I wanted to come all the time and the things that set me off seemed not 'normal'. As I grew older I liked kissing and touching with boys well enough but they weren't the things that fired my imagination. When I was finally in bed with my fantasies I thought about being a pony and my master brushing me and bridling me and riding me. And I would come. I thought about snakes... invading and wriggling in my slippery place. And I would come. I thought about things in my behind - which is the only thing I ever actually did. I must have had almost everything under the sun that would fit in there as I masturbated time after time.
I had enough dates and I went to bed with two boys in high school, more because all my friends did than because it meant anything to me. It seemed like a lot of 'come and go' about nothing. When I was in college I met Stewart who was a nice boy. Marrying him because he was a nice boy was not a nice thing to do to him or me but I did it.
I woke up at twenty-three with a baby an empty job and an empty house after the divorce. What I was full of was determination to fulfill myself. I went back to school. With help from my mom, who was now my only blood relative besides my son Danny, I became a legal secretary. My life in general was better because I could provide for the son I loved more I could have believed, but my sex life was worse. I'd just about given up on men, more from my own reticence than from their shortcomings. I was too shy to tell and too afraid to do. On the few occasions I hinted, I heard things like "That's sick" or "You're kidding, right?" Right.
By the time Danny was seventeen, I felt like a frustrated old maid but I went on for him. I worked out religiously and most people at the spa and yoga class couldn't believe I was forty.
I thought it was the final straw as far as my head was concerned when I started taking notice of my own son. I had taught him some Hatha Yoga and he would stretch and take a few positions with me when I worked out at home. I loved his lithe body and I knew better than to tell myself that he didn't turn me on. In some way I saw it as an improvement because most of my childhood desires were in the background. Now all I ever fantasized about was Danny: Danny in my mouth, Danny in pussy, Danny in my ass.
I masturbated every night for a year with my son behind my eyes. I hoped he didn't hear me through our bedroom's adjoining wall because I'm loud if have a particularly powerful orgasm.
Thanksgiving changed our lives. I was behind in some work and had to have it in by Wednesday. Tuesday evening Danny had gone out and I used his computer for the first time. I clicked on a folder named Dictionary and it opened about a hundred JPEG images. After the first I was hooked. It had a logo on the bottom from the site it had been downloaded from, Mother-Son Galleries. Half the pictures were of older women having sex with younger men. The others were either of women in restraints, or pregnant and lactating women.
For a moment I forgot who I was and thought, "Why would my son be interested in pregnant women?" For the same unfathomable reasons my fantasies ran from snakes to my son's young cock. A cock I wished I had in me now as those 'mothers' in the pictures did. I closed my eyes and rubbed myself to orgasm, which didn't take very long.
I worked late into the night and was totally exhausted by the time I was finished. The next thing I remember was a tingling in my left nipple and as I came out of sleep Danny was saying "Mom get up and go to bed."
Still groggy I whispered "Hi sweetie".
Danny caressed my hair and smiled. My head leaned and rested on his thigh. Almost in trance I turned my face and kissed his cock over his jeans. He was hard. He had to be hard before I kissed him. I looked up for his reaction and he leaned down and gave me the first kiss I'd had as a woman in ten years. "Danny... Danny..." I repeated as I hurriedly unbuckled his pants. His long and wide up-turned cock sprang as I reached for it with my mouth. It was hot and sweet to taste.
"OH mother, suck my cock... yes... I wanted you to do this... I wanted to fuck you for so long..." My son was breathing hard and started to fuck my mouth. He became mindless and I felt him reaching for the back of my throat with his cock. I tried to extend his pleasure by pulling back and gently sucking on the engorged head but he couldn't wait. He called me as he came..."Mother... MOTHER... MO... THER..." His hard quick spurts of cum surprised me and the amount surprised me even more. My mouth was filled and I'd never swallowed cum before but I didn't want him to stop so I let the thick jelly slide down my throat and continued coaxing and squeezing more out of his jerking rod.
