Mom's Bridal Lingerie

Sitting there stunned and with her head absolutely spinning, Nicole looked at what she held in her hand, a photo that took her breath away. It was of her and Mitch, the picture taken of the two of them out by the pool Sunday morning. In the picture you could clearly see that Mitch's cock was buried deep in her ass, her head turned as she looked back over her shoulder at him, a look of pure rapture on her face.

"Oh Jesus," she muttered, setting the picture down and looking at the next one. It had been taken a short time later, with her squatting over Mitch's face, a drooling mass of his milky cum slithering out of her bumhole and drizzling into his eagerly waiting mouth. She looked at the next picture after that, this one of him sitting between her legs as she jerked him off all over her pussy, her face a mask of lust once more.

"That fuck-head Ted Jamieson," she thought to herself, realizing from the perspective of the shots that they must have been taken from their neighbour's backyard. She remembered Mitch saying the Jamiesons were supposed to be in Europe, but he must have been wrong. She flipped through a few more similar shots of the two of them by the pool, and then came to a different one, this one making her gasp once more. It was of her in her son's room, dressed in the vivid red teddy she'd changed into on the night Rick had come home, after he'd taken the sleeping pill and gone to bed. This picture she was looking at was of her on her back in her son's bed, his arms holding her legs high in the air and spread well apart, his glistening cock showing clearly between her stretched pussy lips as she pulled tightly onto his sheets, her eyes closed in bliss as he fucked her.

"Oh shit," she muttered under her breath, knowing now that these pictures could only have been taken by one person—her husband, Rick. Beneath that picture were a few others taken at the same time, including one of her on her hands and knees in the middle of the bed, her lips wrapped around her son's rigid prick, his hands gripping her head tightly as he face-fucked her. Once again, the look of blissful contentment on her face said it all.

She flipped through the remainder of the pictures quickly, seeing a piece of stationary at the back of the stack. It was a typed letter, addressed to her, very formally, almost like a legal document, stating her full name and address, even down to the zip code. She realized she would have expected nothing less from her husband. Her eyes skimmed over the name and address to the salutation and main body of the letter. She began to read:

Nicole,

After seeing the attached photographs, the reason for this letter has become obvious to you. I've had to rein in my disgust for you in order to put this in words, without resorting to tawdry comments and disparaging name calling—although you deserve it. I won't lower myself to your level, for the sake of all the members of this family—even you, who I can't bear to look at right now.

The night before the fishing trip, you gave me a sleeping pill. I awoke some time later and noticed you working at your computer station. When I got up to use the bathroom, I was surprised at what I saw as I walked towards you. I could see you looking at your computer with your hand between your legs. I figured you were just looking at some porn, and when I got closer, I was able to see your computer, and saw that you were looking at a clip of a young man masturbating. I was about to make a joke and say something to you right there on the spot, but I decided not to embarrass you. I think we both know that there are times when all of us need some private release time, so I quietly went back to bed, leaving you to do as you wished.

I left with Ed early the next morning, but something kept nagging at the back of my mind about what I'd seen on your screen. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something there that was troubling me. In the middle of the night, it came to me—I recognized the distinctive light on the bedside table next to the young man in the video. I remember clearly the day we picked that out for Mitch's room, and how much you wanted it, the heavy base looking like it was covered with chainmail, and how perfect that would be for a boy's room. I realized right then that you hadn't been watching a porn video, you'd been watching a close-circuit feed of our son, Mitch, obviously taken with a hidden camera.

I woke Ed up before daylight and told him I needed to get home—that you'd texted me that someone had tried to break into the house. I picked up my car from his place and came home. As I got closer to the house, I had a strange nagging feeling running down my spine—that something was off, that my world was tilting, and I had no idea why. I parked on the street and entered the house, something telling me that things were not quite right. I made my way quietly upstairs and saw our bedroom door open a few inches. When I looked inside, I was shocked to see you sucking on our son's cock, both of you oblivious to anything else but each other. I felt like I had turned to stone as I stood there and watched as he came in your mouth, and you swallowed it willingly. Hearing you moan in pleasure seemed to break me out of my trance, and I staggered back, wondering if my eyes were deceiving me. Gathering myself, I quietly stepped forward and looked in again, just in time to hear you say, "Your dad leaves for work nice and early. I could come into your room and wake you up with a blow job like that every day. Would you like that, sweetie?"

Repulsed by both of you, I made my way downstairs, trying to give myself time to think. From what you'd just said, and the look on both of your faces, I knew that this wasn't just a one-time thing—and I realized right then that our marriage was over.

Wanting to have some evidence of what I'd seen, I grabbed my camera out of my desk drawer, but by the time I got back upstairs, I could hear the two of you in the shower. I waited in the hallway, eventually hearing you tell Mitch you wanted to lay out by the pool.

Knowing the Jamieson's were away, I pulled my car into their driveway and made my way into their backyard, taking my camera with me. Since you've seen the pictures, I don't think I need to tell you anything more.

During the day, I threw some hints out that I might have to work a little more at the new office in Dillon. Both of you didn't hesitate to try and convince me to go. After what I'd seen, I wasn't surprised by what either one of you were saying. When I went to bed, I asked you for another sleeping pill that night, but never took it—palming it in my hand before I drank that glass of water. As I expected, you were quick to go into our son's room once you thought I was asleep.

I followed you a few minutes later, still not wanting to believe that what I'd seen earlier was true. You can see from the pictures that it was obvious that my eyes hadn't been deceiving me—you were acting like more of a slut than I even imagined, and with our very own son. Looking at the two of you, I made my decision right there on the spot.

We are done, Nicole. Our marriage is over. I considered filing an order claiming you were an unfit mother in order to get custody of Mitch and take him away from you—but I'm not going to do that. At first I thought that you had taken advantage of him—but from watching the two of you together, I knew in my heart that wasn't the case—Mitch wanted it as much as you did. I know what I'd have to prove in order to get custody, and unlike you, I've got the moral integrity not to put this family through that. So, he's yours, and the two of you can do whatever the fuck you want, as far as I care. And from the looks of things, a lot of fucking is what you'll be doing.

I talked to Griff and I'm taking the job of running the new office in Dillon. I'm starting next Monday. I want both you and Mitch out of the house Saturday morning. I've made arrangements for movers to come that day and if there's one thing you can do for me, it's that you be away from the house while I'm there. Trust me, with the mood I'm in, you don't want to be around. Right now, I can't bear to look at either one of you. I packed a bag before I left this morning and will be staying in a hotel until Saturday.

This is making me sick just writing this, so I'll get to the point. In the second envelope you will find divorce papers I've had drawn up. You and Mitch will get to stay in the house at this time and you'll retain possession of the Lexus. I'm going to take the Mercedes and my personal items from the house. Frankly, I want nothing that's going to remind me of you.

I don't want to drag this out, so I am telling you right now, Nicole: sign the papers. You know as well as I do that I could use these pictures to ruin you—you would never sell another house or likely have another client in this town again. Not to mention what all your friends would think of you if the truth came out. I know that's not something you want to face. I know we've been drifting apart the last couple of years, so in the end, this is probably best. I just pray that Mitch comes out of this okay.

So sign the papers, Nicole, and then call the number of the courier company listed on the post-it note. I will expect the signed documents on my desk by noon tomorrow. May God help you.

Richard

With tears streaming down her face, Nicole set down the letter. "Oh my god, what am I going to do?" she asked herself, her mind numbed by what she'd read. She had to admit she admired that Rick had taken the high road, and not resorted to gutter sniping. She tried to put herself in his place, wondering what she would have done if the roles had been reversed. She knew she would have been driven into a fit of rage, with screams, tears and the gnashing of teeth. But Rick had always been the calmer one, always taking the time to think things through before acting. Maybe that had been part of the problem—he'd lost the passion and spontaneity that he'd once had. He was right, they had been drifting apart for some time now, and it had taken her son's wickedly illicit obsession with her to awaken the dormant sexual being that had slumbered inside her for so many years now. She thought of those articles she'd read about boys reaching their sexual prime as teenagers, and women reaching theirs much later. And now she knew firsthand how true that was. Although she deeply regretted the way she had hurt her husband, she knew there was no turning back—her desire for her son was just too strong.

She opened the second envelope and pulled out the legal documents it contained. Setting aside the post-it note with the courier's contact number that Rick had mentioned, she scanned the divorce papers, skimming over the legal mumbo-jumbo and getting down to the listed terms. It stated that she would retain residency in the house, with a potential future sale to be negotiated to the approval of both parties, the sale of the house to be discussed no less than one year from now.

That was typical of Rick. Being a lawyer, he was in no rush to make any rash decisions, and waiting a year to decide what to do with the house made sense. She knew she'd be fine—they owned the house free and clear, and a recent appraisal had come in higher than expected. Yes, even if they did sell the house at a later date, they'd each make out all right.

As he said in his letter, the documents indicated she would retain ownership of the Lexus, with him keeping his Mercedes. She zeroed in on the text when she spotted the name "Mitchell", the clause specifying that she was to retain sole custody of their son, with the situation to be reopened for discussion in no less than one year as well.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nicole read over the rest of the documents. Rick had been more than fair, and it was obvious that he wanted to put this unfortunate circumstance behind him, and start a new life. She couldn't blame him—she knew she would want the same if she were in his place.

"Mom, I'm home!" Mitch's cheerful voice reached her as she heard the usual sound of his knapsack being plunked on the floor as the front door slammed shut. She looked up as he entered the kitchen.

"Mom, I—" He stopped in the doorway, his face turning white as he looked at his mother's ashen expression, the remnants of dried tears streaking her face. "Wha...what's wrong?"

"He knows," was all she could say, trying to give her son a forced smile.

"He...you mean...Dad?" Mitch asked, now seeing the photos dropped onto the tabletop.

"Yes."

Mitch walked slowly over to the table, his legs feeling like they were pulling lead weights. He picked up one of the pictures of his mother and him by the pool, and then looked at her. "How...when?"

"It doesn't really matter. All that matters is that he knows, and he's going to be leaving."

"Leaving?" Mitch gasped out, still trying to wrap his head around everything, but not doing a very good job of it.

"Yes. He's going to be taking over that new office in Dillon, and he's going to be moving out this weekend."

"This weekend?" Like a punch-drunk boxer, Mitch seemed to stagger as he dropped into a chair next to his mother, his eyes scanning the incriminating photos strewn across the table.

"Yes. He's going to be staying in a hotel until the weekend, and then moving on Saturday. He's asked us not to be here when he comes Saturday morning."

Mitch felt himself tearing up, and the lump in his throat had all of a sudden gotten huge. He looked up at his mother, struggling to keep in the tears. "He...he really knows?"

"Yes," Nicole said solemnly, nodding towards the numerous photographs.

"What...what does it all mean? Is he just going there for a little while?"

"No." Nicole shook her head slowly from side to side. "He's asked for a divorce. These are the official papers right here."

Mitch looked at the documents she held in her hand, trying to comprehend everything. "Are we going to have to sell the house? Where will we live? Will I have to go and live with Dad?" The questions spilled out, and Nicole wondered how many other children of parents that were getting a divorce asked the same things.

"No, you and I will be staying right here. You father has been kind enough to let us stay in the house. So don't worry about that. Plus, you're going to be staying right here with me—you won't have to go and live with your father. We might discuss that in another year of so, but for right now, you're staying here."

Mitch nodded, a wave of relief coming over him. He looked at his mother intently as she watched him, her eyes sincere with concern for his well-being. "And...and what about us?" He emphasized the word 'us', leaving no question what he was really asking about.

Nicole paused before answering, looking deep into her heart to see what she really wanted. She was a swirling mess of emotions, and knew she was in no shape to make any kind of rational decision, especially when it came to the sexual relationship she was having with her son. She was thankful for Rick's thoughtful assessment of the situation, the impact the truth would have on all of them if it was made known, and his choice not to expose her. She knew if it came out, she'd probably lose everything—her life would be in ruins—as he'd said in his letter. She thought about the repercussions of her behaviour, even to the point that she thought of the possibility of going to prison, of becoming some dyke's bitch, the thought of being raped by prison guards in the shower making her shudder. Her husband of twenty years was leaving her, leaving her and her son, for something she'd done, something she'd willingly chosen to do—to seduce her own 18-year old son. Too much had happened, way too fast. And now, Mitch was asking, "What about us?"

"I don't know what's going to become of us, Mitchell," she replied, shaking her head in confusion. "I need time to think. We all do—you, me, your father. This is a very serious matter, and our lives are never going to be the same. So for now, I'm asking you to just let me get through this." Even with a heavy heart, she smiled softly, the simple gesture drifting down over both of them like a warm comforting cloak. "We're both going to be fine, sweetheart. I promise you. But right now, I think we both need a little time to think about things—about what we've done."

Mitch nodded, a somber expression on his face as the reality of their actions set in. "You're right. There's so many things running around in my head, I don't know what to think." He paused, deep in thought. "Is...uh...is it okay if I just go to my room for a while?"

Nicole nodded, knowing that time alone was what both of them needed right now. "I think that's a good idea. I'll make something for a dinner a little later, all right?"

"Thanks, Mom," Mitch replied, kissing his mother tenderly on the forehead as he stood up. "And Mom, I...I really hate seeing you sad like this. I don't ever want you to feel this way with me. If you do, please tell me what the problem is, okay?"

Nicole felt herself tearing up once more as she looked at her son, her love for him overwhelming her. "I don't think you could ever make me sad, baby. I love you too much."

"I love you too, Mom," Mitch said, giving her another soft kiss on the forehead before heading to his room.

Nicole wiped away a tear as she picked up a pen and flipped to the final pages of the document in her hand. Through misty eyes she reached forward and signed the divorce papers—her trembling hand barely able to form the letters of her signature.

*

The next few days were trying for both Nicole and Mitch. They had their meals together and talked mostly about school, Nicole's work, and other superficial matters. For most of the time, both of them were lost in their thoughts about Rick leaving, and what they had done to bring about that life-changing decision. They each spent hours in their respective rooms, wallowing in guilt and self-loathing.

Mitch couldn't help but think of how good his father had been to him over the years, playing toy trucks with him when he was a toddler, teaching him to throw a spiral when he joined pee-wee football, even trying to turn him into a fisherman, something Mitch appreciated even if it wasn't his thing. And those 'birds and the bees' talks his father had tried to have with him. Mitch smiled as he remembered his father trying to explain things, his words a humorous mix of technical terminology and street slang. Mitch had listened closely while trying to hide a smile, knowing he'd already experienced more than his father ever imagined.

Yes, his father was a good man, always providing for their family and giving them the best of everything. Mitch realized that when it came to his father, he could find nothing to complain about. And now, what had they done to him? What had his father done to deserve this? The answer was simple—nothing. He'd done nothing to deserve this. And as Mitch lay in his bed remembering how his father had shown him how to hold that football in his little hands and toss that long bomb, he felt ashamed. Ashamed of himself for what he had done. He felt ashamed of himself for putting his father through this, after his father had done nothing to be treated with such a lack of respect. He'd let his lustful desires take control of him, and he felt ashamed for being so weak. He could only hope that some day, his father would find it in his heart to forgive him.

Nicole was wracked with guilt as well, overcome with a constant feeling of dread, almost to the point where she was sick to her stomach when she thought about what she had done. Rick had been a near-perfect husband. Sure, the passion they'd felt for each other in their youth had waned, but that happened to everyone. As he'd said in his letter, they had been drifting apart over the last couple of years, but he had remained a good man and steadfast provider for both her and Mitch, and she had basically spit in his eye by acting the way she had.