"Bye, son. Take care, and good luck in the exams."
"Thanks, Mom. Bye." He hung up, and I replaced my own handset. About to switch off the PC I caught sight of the corner of a folder on his desk. A paper - a photo - was sticking out a little and I saw what looked like bare skin. I was about to reach for it, then stopped myself. Invasion of Ben's privacy, Sarah. I fought my inner devil for a moment, but the devil won and I reached for the folder. I opened it and stopped dead. It was a photo, yes, and I had seen bare skin. A lot of it, in fact, because the subject of the photo was a naked woman. Now a mere nude wouldn't have stopped me dead. After all, my son was male, only twenty-one, and as far as I knew was as horny as the next guy. He'd had girlfriends and I was pretty sure that more than one of them had been bedmates, too.
No, what stopped me dead was the subject of the photo, because it was me, totally naked, and there was no way Ben could have a nude photo of me. I knew that, because I'd never been naked in his presence. I took a closer look at the photo, then realized. Yes, it actually
was
me, but the photo had been taken about five years earlier, before Jack died, and the three of us, plus Ben's then girlfriend, Rhonda, had been to the beach for the day. Somehow, despite my reservations, I'd let Rhonda persuade me to buy a bikini for the trip. Now, I look after myself, eat carefully and exercise regularly, and I think my figure is pretty good. My tits aren't particularly big, but as my late husband always said, 'anything more than a handful is wasted,' and I hadn't drooped much at all over the years. In fact, they still looked – and felt – pretty good to me. I looked closely at the photo and smiled. Definitely not my tits. The size and shape were about right, yes, but my areolae are bigger. I guessed Ben must have manipulated the photo. I laughed and went to put it back, but then a thought struck me. Why on earth would Ben want a nude photo of his mother?
For a sexually experienced widow of forty-one I can be incredibly naive at times. Why does any virile young heterosexual male keep a picture of a naked woman near his bed? Masturbation stimulus, that's why! But his
mother
? Ben was masturbating to thoughts of
me
? I was trying to be annoyed but my innate honesty recognized the self-delusion, and I felt a hot flush run through me, centered between my legs. The thought of Ben jacking off to a picture of me was getting me sexually excited!
I sat back, thinking hard. That I ought to be shocked, even disgusted, I recognized and discarded. I understood sex drive, oh yes. Jack and I had had an active sexual life. I loved to be fucked, and he loved to fuck me. Now, for reasons which completely escaped me, I was thinking of being fucked by my son. Not only that, but the thought was exciting me! I shook my head, and went to put the picture back in the folder, but a slip of paper in the folder caught my eye. A list of website addresses. I looked closer, recognizing one or two of them as porn sites Jack and I had looked at for occasional stimulus. Not that we needed it, because just the sight of each other naked was enough to trigger a mutually satisfying sex session, but yes, sometimes we got ideas. There were other site addresses I didn't recognize, though. A couple of things caught my eye, references to MILFs, whatever they were, and 'mothers and sons'. I thought for a moment or two, and then reached for the keyboard, opening the browser and keying in the first address.
Half an hour later I sat back, pensive, closing the browser and preparing to close down the computer. I paused, thinking. He had the list of websites, but did Ben have anything saved on his computer? A few minutes searching and I thought I might have found something, but when I tried to open the folder, I found it was password-protected. Would his main password work? Yes! Well, almost. It was actually SexySarah#2. I opened the folder and started to browse.
When I finally got around to shutting down the computer an hour or so later, I had a lot to think about. Primarily, whether to confront Ben about it. In all honesty, what I had done was invade my son's privacy, and that was a trust I wasn't prepared to break casually. But what I had read on Ben's computer indicated that the idea of fucking his mother was high on his list of desires. I'd found out what a MILF was - 'a mom I'd like to fuck.' He'd even made a list. Top of the list was me, and I wasn't quite sure what I thought about that, but his aunt Carol was there, too, as were Jenny Collins and Alice Jensen, two neighbors. Sisters, they were both younger than me, Jenny by about a year, her sister Alice nearer three, but both of them at least sixteen or seventeen years older than Ben. If I included myself, all of the women on Ben's list were attractive, intelligent older women. It seemed that whatever else was involved, and I wasn't prepared to go there, not yet, at least my son showed good taste in his choice of older women! Although it was only mid-evening, I was a little tired and got ready for bed. I lay in bed for ages thinking, thinking about my son's obvious desire to fuck his mom. That the thought excited me, I admitted freely. Whether I'd do anything about it I just didn't know, and my sleep was restless when I finally dozed off.
Jack's will and insurance had left us comfortable, but I still need to work to bring in some cash, cash I could use to put the occasional luxury into our lives, so for four-and-a half days a week, plus the occasional weekend cover, I work in real estate. Usually in the office, occasionally filling in to show prospective customers around properties we had on the books. I finished at midday on a Friday and usually had at least a coffee, sometimes lunch, with my sister Carol. Fifteen months older than me, Carol was another single mother. In her case, of twins, Tony and Tina, a year or so older than Ben. Carol wasn't a widow, but divorced. Because she'd had a good lawyer the divorce settlement was good, and she, like me, was comfortable but needed to work for the luxuries. Carol worked for the firm of lawyers who had handled her divorce. Because she was a good employee, a paralegal, the partner who handled the divorce for her, Alicia Juarez, had charged her only for actual costs, doing the rest of the work pro bono. Anyway, enough of that. The offices where we worked were only a couple of blocks apart so, as I said, we had a coffee or lunch together on a Friday.
Carol and I are close, and she'd always looked out for me as we were growing up, and as we moved apart and into relationships, and then marriage, we remained good friends. I knew I could ask her about just about anything and know that I'd get an honest answer. I'd dithered for a few days but decided I needed to ask her about Ben's fantasy. This Friday was a lunch day, and we went to one of our favorites, Bambina. Italian, good food, reasonable prices. As usual, it was busy, and conversation was difficult, private conversation impossible. Not to worry, because it was a fine summer day. On fine summer days we took coffee-to-go and went and sat in a little park a block away. Nearly always quiet during the day, maybe a few pre-school children and their mothers in the play area, but the benches were set well apart and it was easy to spot anyone getting close enough to eavesdrop. We sat, and as usual, I kicked off my shoes, wriggling my toes.
Carol laughed. "You always do that."
I shrugged. "I know. I guess I just like to wriggle my toes. Heck, I usually walk around barefoot at home."
"You always did." She looked at me. "Something on your mind, little sister?"
I nodded. "I guess. Something came up and I'm not sure what to do about it."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"I'm not sure, but I do need advice."
"So shoot."
I took a deep breath. "Carol, what does a woman do when she finds out her son has manipulated a photo of her into a nude photo, and fantasizes about fucking her?"
For the first time ever that I could remember, Carol didn't give me a straight answer. In fact, she stared at me, then flushed and looked away for a moment, then back at me.
"I'm not sure I can answer that one, sis," she said quietly. We gazed at each other for a long, tense moment, then she gave me a little smile. "Can I tell you something in confidence, Sarah, and will you promise never to say anything to anybody, ever?"
Wow, this was heavy! "I so swear, Carol. Nothing to anybody, ever, except on your say-so. Okay?"
She nodded. "I've never known you break your word in my life, sis." She took a deep breath. "The reason I can't advise is that I'm compromised, or more probably, biased." She held my eyes with hers. "I've been fucking Tony for almost three months now."
I sat back, stunned, staring at her, but then, I couldn't help it, I grinned. "Is it good?"
Carol exploded in a snort of laughter. "Sarah, it's fucking marvelous!"
"So, how did this happen?"
"You know Tina works late at the hospital, every other Friday?" I nodded. "Well, after a couple of scares from other late travelers, and some persuasion from her workmate, Nancy, Tina spends every other Friday at Nancy's place, after they've finished work. Tina says they spend most of the night just talking and chilling out together. She says it's fun. Well, as you no doubt realize, that leaves Tony and me alone together every other Friday?"
"Yes. And?"
