"I'm home," yelled Matt, before charging up the stairs, adding over his shoulder, "I'm going straight to bed."
Anne, his mother, glanced at the clock. It was only just after 10pm, a bit early to be back from a date. She listened intently to Matt as he reached to the top of the stairs. The floorboards on the landing creaked under his weight as they always did. She heard him close his bedroom door behind him, and a few minutes later settle down on the bed. She knew she shouldn't, but she did β she went to the hallway, and then followed him up the stairs.
Matt was lying on his bed, naked. As soon as he'd got to his room and shut the door, he'd stripped off and thrown himself on the bed, looking forward to a good wank. Tonight had been so frustrating β yet again. He couldn't believe that at nineteen, almost twenty, he was still a virgin. He'd had a few hand jobs from girls over the last few years, even a couple of blow jobs, and had got his hands and mouth onto some very nice boobs, but that was it.
For the last three weeks he'd been going out with Sarah, a girl from College who had a bit of a reputation. Their relationship had developed pretty well, and he'd really felt sure that tonight was the night, especially after the not very subtle hints she'd dropped the previous evening, when she told him that her parents would be away. So he'd met her as planned for a drink, walked her home with a raging hard on in his jeans, full of expectation, only to find out that her period had come early.
After that, he couldn't even bring himself to go into her house with her, but had instead make his excuses and rushed home.
"What crap timing," he'd screamed to himself, as he headed home, "Crap, crap, crap."
Now all he wanted was some release. He made himself comfortable, lying on the bed, his back propped up by his pillows. He reached for his cock, stroking it, wondering if his size put girls off. His cock hung quite long when soft, but once erect it grew to just over eight inches, and was thick with it. Did girls talk about that sort of thing? Swap notes? He doubted it β anyway, with his experience (or lack of it!), what was there to talk about?
Anne had crept upstairs by now, being careful to avoid the creaky floorboards. She had made this journey so often over the last three months that she knew exactly where to tread. She stopped outside Matt's room, and after hesitating for only a second dropped to her knees, and peered through the keyhole. As always she felt guilty, but simply couldn't stop herself.
She felt so lonely, so frustrated. The twins had been born when she was only seventeen. Now, at thirty-seven, she felt she was still at her sexual peak. Until four months ago, that had been great. Sex had been great. But then, her husband of nineteen years had upped and walked out, no warning, nothing. Although still extremely attractive β she had always looked after herself - Anne had not met anyone else. For a while her only sources of relief had been her fingers or her toys β until she'd started watching her son.
Her mind wandered, thinking about when this had started. It was just three months ago. She had thought that Matt was still at College. She'd just got back from work, and wanted to get some washing done. She went up to his room to empty his laundry basket, expecting his room to be empty. Instead, he was on his bed, that enormous cock in his hand, a copy of Playboy next to him.
Anne thought back to this, to how red they'd both gone, to how she'd muttered something and had backed out of his room as quickly as possible, but never taking her eyes his cock. But she hadn't gone back downstairs, as she knew she should have done. After hesitating for only a second, she'd gone back, almost in a dream, and had peered through his keyhole. He was wanking again, this time lying back on the bed. What was he thinking? She watched as he came, great gushes of cum springing from his cock and landing on his belly.
After watching him cum, she'd rushed to her room and frantically masturbated, her fingers a blur as she brought herself off in record time, visions of her son's cock filling her mind. After that she couldn't get that sight out of her mind, couldn't get his cock out of her mind, and had crept back to watch again a few days later. Now it was almost every day. Now she needed this release, despite the increasing risks she found herself taking.
With a start she came back to the present, watching as Matt stroked his huge cock with one hand, cupping his balls with the other.
"God," she thought, gasping as she always did at his size, "He really takes after his Dad."
This brought more memories, more urges, flooding back. Without taking her eye away from the door, she slipped her hand up her short skirt, pushing her knickers to one side. She felt her hot pussy, the juices already flooding from her. She rubbed her clit, biting her lip to stop herself from crying out. She slipped her other hand under her top to grasp her naked breasts, to pinch and pull at her nipples.
His actions were becoming faster β too fast, so he slowed, wanting to make this last. His balls felt full in his hand. He rolled them around gently, and then squeezed them, enjoying the pain. He pulled his foreskin back hard, exposing the bulbous red head of his cock, already shiny with pre cum. He smeared the sticky liquid around his cock, running a finger down his length. He stroked his cock from top to bottom, watching carefully as his skin slid up and down.
Anne pushed a finger, then two, inside her hot cunt, frigging herself, wanking in time to her son's movements, slowing down when he did, going faster when he did. Her other hand left her breasts, and slipped into her knickers, rubbing her clit with a circular motion. She felt so close to cumming, but she wanted to cum with Matt, to share with him albeit from the other side of the door, in secret.
She jumped as she saw Matt stand up. He stood at the side of the bed, his cock still in his hand. He took a few steps, and disappeared from her view. She held her pussy in her hand, rubbing softly while she waited for Matt to reappear, to start wanking again so that she could match his actions.
"He must be going to the mirror," she thought to herself.
She loved this. He would stand in front of the full length mirror wanking. She could enjoy looking at him in the mirror, seeing his fit, muscular body with his cock jutting out, and she could look at his firm ass, watching as his tight buttocks clenched together as he came. She rubbed her clit harder, and slipped her fingers back inside her hot cunt, anticipating what was to come.
The door flew open...
* * * * *
Kerry was so frustrated. She loved sex, and hadn't had any for almost a week. She was masturbating three, sometimes four, times a day. While that took the edge off things, it still wasn't enough.
She'd been a bit of a late starter when it came to sex. She wasn't sure why β she'd been brought up in a house were her parents seemed to be at it non-stop. But ever since her nineteenth birthday party, when she'd got off with a neighbours son - who was home from university and up for anything - it was like a dam had burst. She was still choosy about her partners, but once she had chosen and was sure of them, there was no stopping her.
But the last month or so had been exceptional.