Kevin got home from work that day feeling hot, sweaty and tired, and in need of a shower. He expected his mother to be home so he called hello as he came through the door, but no answer. Probably in the yard enjoying the early evening breeze and warm sunshine, where he planned to be as soon as he'd cleaned up a bit and found a beer. His mother didn't approve of him drinking beer, but this time he figured that he'd earned it, working all day in the hot and steamy confines of a hotdog stand to feed the hordes of people who had flocked to the stadium.
He ran upstairs to his bedroom, shucked off his clothes, leaving them in an untidy heap on the floor and, shrugging a bathrobe around his shoulders, headed for the shower.
It wasn't until he opened the bathroom door that he realised that the shower was already occupied. A smooth shiny female back showed itself through the steam and frosted glass to tell him that he'd found his mother. He stood transfixed, staring at her and wondering why she hadn't locked the bathroom door as was her usual habit. But then, perhaps she'd thought herself alone in the house.
Without thinking he eased the door closed behind him and stood leaning on it, feeling his heart begin to race with nervous excitement, glad that the white towelling robe provided camouflage against the white bathroom door and allowed him to watch his mother showering undiscovered. Her actions fascinated him, his eyes following avidly as she soaped herself, turning sideways to him as she did so and unknowingly letting him see her breasts, lifted, squeezed and rubbed by her soapy hands. Her hands ran along across her belly and down her thighs, along her arms and under them, everywhere, soaping and rubbing her skin, almost as if massaging herself. She was naked and he was nearly so, and the implications of that were making his cock begin to unfurl beneath his robe.
He shook himself mentally, telling himself to stop thinking along those lines - she was his mother for God's sake. But she was turning beneath the flow, moving herself to let the stream of water pour all over her to sluice away the soap and showing him a clearer view of her breasts in the process. He stood, unable to take his eyes away as she turned again until she was three quarters facing him, her brown nipples and dark curly bush discernable through the glass.
He drew in a sudden breath as she soaped her hands and, parting her knees a little began to wash her pussy, reaching between her legs and rubbing at that most intimate part. Then, to his excited surprise, she reached up, unhooked the shower head and concentrated it between her legs to play the jet against her pussy, leaning one hand against the glass while the other directed the flow.
He watched, hardly daring to breathe while she played water onto herself for a disproportionately long time. Even when all the suds were gone and the water ran clear she still played the flow on herself, shifting her stance slightly to part her legs even further. Suddenly the light dawned and his heart jumped. His mother was masturbating in the shower while he watched, using the jet of water on her pussy to give herself a thrill.
His cock was standing erect, pushing against the towelling of his robe, forcing it into a peak to remind him of its presence and making his hand unthinkingly find its way under his robe to play, sliding gently along his length. He held his breath, wondering how far she would go, hoping that she would bring herself to orgasm as he watched, and at the same time feeling an excited guilt for spying on his own mother's very private moments.
She was waving the shower head a little, just enough to move the spray along her pussy, and Kevin could imagine it hitting first her clit and then spraying up inside her entrance. He gripped harder onto his shaft, trying fruitlessly to stop himself from wanking and only succeeding in slowing himself down, his eyes fixed on his mother's pussy, hidden by the angle and the water so that he could just about make out her labia and the slit between.
Her pelvis was beginning to give little jerks as the jet of water did its job and her legs moved intermittently as if trying to obey opposing instincts to close or to spread. She was getting close to coming.
Then over the sound of the splashing water he heard her gasp, a sharp little noise born of pure pleasure, followed by another, and then another, louder this time. She was coming. He moved his hand along his shaft; his fingers wiping a drop of precum from the end before sliding back down towards the root. She was gasping loudly and continuously now, her legs jerking and her body shuddering before she let out one long cry and jammed the shower head up between her legs, pressing it onto her pussy so that water gushed up over her belly and streamed down her legs.
Suddenly it was over, and she dropped the showerhead, letting it spin and rotate about her ankles spraying water around her as she slumped forward, her head drooping between outstretched arms and both hands pressing against the transparent side of the cubicle with her breasts swaying beneath her. For a moment or so Kevin stared at her, unable to take in the fact that he had just witnessed his mother's orgasm, but then near panic set in and he realised he had to move and move quickly before she recovered enough to see him still standing spying on her. He swiftly opened the bathroom door just enough to let him slide through, pulling it closed behind him, desperately trying to prevent the latch from clicking, before scuttling back to his own room.
In the security of his bedroom he leaned back on the door much as he had in the bathroom, astounded by what he had just witnessed and horrified at his own arousal. It was your mother, part of his brain reminded him, trying to cancel out that part which insisted that he had just seen an attractive older woman doing what most women did when they were alone and randy.
He looked down at his cock, hard and throbbing and still pushing against his robe, his hand automatically returning to it, wanting to finish the job he had begun in the bathroom. He let the bathrobe slip from his shoulders and walked unsteadily across to his bed, pushing the duvet to one side and lying back naked to enjoy what his mind described as a good wank.
Now he was free to fantasise a little, to let his mind and imagination fill in the gaps in what he had seen. As his hand slid back and forth along his shaft he imagined his mother's pussy, clearly seeing the puffy labia and hot wet slit that steam and her stance had only allowed him to make out vaguely through the frosted glass of the shower cubicle. His mind's eye stared at her pussy, seeing the jet of shower water hitting and stimulating her clit, the little button hard and extended under its hood. He groaned quietly and his hand began to move more quickly, stimulating him just as the shower had done to his mother.
He was going to come a bucket he was sure, thrilled and appalled in equal measure to be wanking to thoughts and images of the woman who brought him into the world and picturing the hole through which he arrived. It was wrong, perverted, and so fucking exciting. His hand squeezed harder at his cock -- and the bedroom door opened.
For a moment he froze, staring wide eyed at his mother standing in the doorway wrapped in a towel, the skin of her shoulders still pink from the shower, and then he reacted, grabbing at the duvet and hauling it hastily across himself, hiding his nakedness and what he was doing, knowing that it was too late and that she had seen him wanking.
'Don't cover yourself, Kevin.' She told him quietly. 'You've seen me doing it; it's only fair that I should see you.'
He felt himself go scarlet from the knowledge that he'd been caught spying, his mind not quick enough to wonder why she hadn't stopped what she was doing when she had seen him.
'Go on. Let me see you. Let me see what sort of a man my little boy has grown into.'
He couldn't move. Even if he had wanted to he couldn't have moved a muscle to do as she asked. He just lay and stared at her, shocked and ashamed that she had known.