Well, I think it's safe to say, my oedipal issues are back. I think you're going to enjoy this story...the climax is based on one of the most vivid dreams I ever had. Be forewarned however, cuckolding is involved in a big way and if that's not your thing, I'd give this story a pass. For the rest of you mother-son fans, enjoy! Please let me know what you think!
As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters within are ficticious!
There are quiet moments in my life where I reflect about the strange, wonderful and terrible twists my life has taken in recent times after a life of quiet, meek frustration. Sometimes, I wonder if perhaps I shouldn't feel at least a modicum of shame for what has happened, but when I search my heart for such feelings, they are not there. Maybe, instead of shame, I should feel guilt, but I do not. All I find is the joy that was missing for so long, a joy that brought with it a feeling of wholeness and happiness for the life I now lead. Perhaps others can judge me, but even then, who knows what longings and desires lay within their hearts?
#
It began when the power went out in Campion Hall early one Wednesday afternoon during Spring Semester. I was the executive assistant to the Chair of the English Department, a position I have held through the tenure of three different people. To most, I was a glorified secretary, but I am the glue that kept the University's English Department together and running at peak efficiency. Unfortunately, with the power out and my trusty computer dead, there was little I could do. When the maintenance people pulled the long face and said it would be late in the evening before the problem was resolved, Dr. Lane told me to take the rest of the day off.
I did a little grocery shopping on the way home, wondering if my son would be home for dinner. My husband was a given, Paul was a very regimented data manager at a major bank and did everything out of habit...the most punctual man I have ever known. My son, John, on the other hand, a grad assistant at the University was much more unpredictable...in part due to his ever changing work schedule – he worked in the Chemistry Department – working towards an advanced degree in Bio-chemical studies and helping with research and development of new pharmaceuticals.
I was a little surprised to see John's car in the driveway along with a small, sporty looking car parked right behind it. I presumed that my twenty-three year old and one of his buddies were hanging out – probably playing video games as we hadn't gotten the pool up and running yet...the weather while pretty had remained stubbornly cool,
I came in through the kitchen and put the food away, not hearing my son or his friend. I assumed they were up in his bedroom killing monsters on his X-box. It was only when I was passing through the living room returning from retrieving the mail from the mailbox that I heard them, the noise stopping me dead in my tracks.
A woman's voice cried out in something close to a scream, "YESSSSSS, JUST LIKE THAT, JOHN! FUCK ME HARD!"
It took my mind a moment to get my head around what was happening. If I had not been able to hear her words clearly, I would have thought someone was being murdered upstairs, but she had left little to the imagination, confirming my suspicions when she cried out, "YEAAHHHH, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME WITH THAT BIG DICK, BABY!"
I went a little weak in the knees and turned left and made a beeline for the den, suddenly needing a drink and Paul's well stocked bar being close by. That proved to be a mistake as I realized that I was now directly over John's bedroom. As I poured myself a brandy, the woman's cries now competed with the noise of box springs being tested vigorously and the thud of the headboard hitting the wall again and again. I overfilled my glass unintentionally and carried the large snifter to Paul's favorite overstuffed leather chair and sat down before my legs gave out.
As the woman's screams grew louder, I couldn't help but wonder what in the world he was doing to her. I was a little stunned. In twenty-seven years of wedded life, I had never once been made to scream like that by my husband. I took a long sip of the brandy and gazed up at the ceiling, mouth open in slack-jawed amazement that a woman could make such sounds.
Now, I never reckoned myself to be a prude...just inexperienced. I was raised in a religiously conservative family and had married an equally religiously conservative man. Paul was a good man...a faithful man in all his duties to me, although not very imaginative, in bed or out. We had been each other's first and only partners and even in the beginning, the passion and the magic that I had expected from sex wasn't there.
Paul, like every man in his family had been raised to treat sex more or less as either a chore of procreation or as a release when the pressures built to too high a level. At our best, we'd made love about twice a week and I can't honestly say I've ever had an orgasm with Paul. It felt good, sure enough, but with him it was basically two minutes of foreplay and then him climbing aboard and when he got his nut off, climbing off me and going to sleep.
A red letter event was when he deigned to let me ride him, but those moments were far and few between. Oral sex was outside his comfort zone and had only come into play the last few years when he'd begun having trouble getting it up and it had been totally one-sided, me sucking his cock because he believed that cunnilingus was nasty.
"CUM-CUM-CUMMMMING, JOHN! FUCK ME, FUCK ME HARD, MAKE ME CUM HARD!" I had listened to the woman sobbing and screaming for nearly twenty minutes with short pauses between her cries of passion and I was now completely freaked out. Twenty minutes was close to three times the amount of time Paul and I made love and as near as I could tell, my son wasn't done yet.
Her orgasm came and went, but the bed's creaking and slamming continued as did her moans which gradually grew louder again until perhaps twenty-five or twenty-six minutes had passed at the very least. "OH GOD, JOHN! FUCK ME, BABY! GIVE ME THAT BIG DICK FOREVER! CUMMING BABY! MAKE ME CUM!" Her screams of pleasure escalated even as I finished the last of my brandy and then I heard my son bellowing like a bull moose, nearly dropping my brandy snifter as it hit me that I was hearing my son climax. I sat my glass down and for a moment placed my hands over my ears, trying to drown out the noise of my son and some girl having an orgasm, the likes of which I had no experience.
When silence finally ensued, I struggled to my feet and shakily poured myself another overfull snifter of brandy, scarcely collapsing in the chair again when I heard giggling from upstairs and the shower go on in the upstairs bathroom. I shifted nervously in my seat, wondering if I should try and slip out – pretend not to have stumbled on my son's afternoon tryst with...whoever it was that was upstairs.
My thinking was just cloudy enough for me to realize that I had already drunk too much to get back in my car and drive away. I decided that the best thing to do was sit here in the shadows of our shadowy den and let them slip away. Silly me, I didn't even consider that my car that I knew I shouldn't drive was sitting in the driveway next to John's little Toyota. Then the noise of sex began again.
Though I couldn't hear them as loudly as I had in my son's bedroom, clearly my son and his friend were having sex in the shower. She seemed to be incapable of words, but her screams were loud and clear and again, I wondered what my son was doing that could make a woman make noises like that. I felt feverish, perhaps in part from the unusual amount of brandy I had downed, but also from a warmth that was spreading through my body, especially between my legs and across my chest and face. I didn't have to look under my blouse to recognize see the sexual flush spreading across my upper chest, neck and face.
It occurred to me in my suddenly slightly intoxicated state that I was turned on by the noises I was hearing along with the sudden graphic images of my son and his mystery woman and what they might be doing that were passing through my mind. Idly, I wondered if they were face to face or was my son taking her from behind...something Paul had never done with me. My free hand slid slowly down across my wool skirt to press between my thighs only to jerk back as I felt a powerful burst of sexual pleasure from caressing my covered mound. My heart was pounding wildly and my head was buzzing from alcohol and amazement.
The screams reached a fever pitch and again I heard my son bellow like a rutting animal and then only the shower could be heard, continuing on for a few more minutes. It stopped and I peered owlishly up at the ceiling, trying to track movement from the little noises that came now and again. Finally, I heard voices and the footsteps as they came downstairs.
