It started simply enough. I entered the kitchen after a day at work to find my senior high school son between her legs, leaning firmly against his girlfriend, pressing her against the counter by the sink. They had not heard me come in, and were locked deeply in a kiss. As I rounded the corner, my son's hips arched lower, tilted up as he pushed his crotch into her mound, pushing upwards, grinding his sex into hers. Her hands were on his ass, pulling him hard against her. I heard a stereo groan from both of them. I stopped dead in my tracks, a hot flash raced through my pussy as I focused on their waists. My son humped her hard for several seconds, grinding his pelvis against hers. "God I want you," he whispered.
"I'm home," I said, startling even myself.
"Mom," Jake almost shrieked. He turned away quickly, the large bulge in his pants evident as he turned quickly away. "You're early," he continued, moving toward the end of the counter, tugging his girl by the elbow to follow him.
"Apparently," I laughed.
"Mom, it's not what you think," Jake glared.
"It's not," I asked quizzically. "Kids, I understand making out and sex," I continued trying to smooth the discussion. "You're over 18. Do you," I finished, turning to face them. I tried to look stern, hiding my internal feelings. I glanced to Jake, his bulge still visible.
"Mom," he groaned. "We gotta jet," he followed.
"Dinner in an hour," I said, raising my voice so he would hear as they headed out the door. I reached for the counter top. My knees felt like rubber. My cunt throbbed. I needed fucked. Glancing at the clock, I headed upstairs to change clothes.
The house was so quiet. My mind continued to race, thoughts of Jake continued to fill my mind. Was he a virgin? How many girls had he had sex with? Was he doing safe sex? Did he know how to have sex? Please a woman? Woman, hell I chuckled to myself. Had I gotten so cynical? God, I could not remember what I knew at his age. When did his dad and I start our sexual relationship? Seniors in high school. Yep, now I remembered. Our first time was not unlike what I had observed minutes ago with Jake.
Opportunity, lust, hormones, all combined to make our sex quick, unfulfilling, and painful. We did try again though, and it got better with the years. I sat contemplating my life, our lives. We loved each other! We were faithful, honest, and still sexually active. Even at my age, 36, I still had strong sexual desires. And Kevin, he still lusted for me. I had kept my body in shape, I worked out religiously. Actually, my body was as toned now as it ever was. Almost naked, I stepped in front of the mirror on the closet door. I look pretty damn good I thought to myself. My hands caressed down my body, starting over my tits, pinching my hard nipples, sliding down my torso, over my mound. I allowed my fingertips to slide softly over my mound, over the hump to feel my lips, puffy lips hidden by my panties. It felt so good. I snaked a finger between my lips, feeling my clit. I've got time my brain screamed. I moved quickly to the bed, stretching out on my back, slipping my panties down, spreading my legs wide. I pushed a hand between my legs, dipping my fingers into my wet slit. Within seconds, I was furiously mashing my clit against my body, pushing the limits of my body's senses, needing an orgasm, a release.
My mind flooded my senses with Kevin, kneeling between my legs, his lips wrapped around my clit, sucking me, biting my flesh, his fingers dipping into my dripping cunt. "Yes," I growled. "Suck me baby," I whispered. My brain switched a vision of Kevin for a vision of Jake instantly. "No," I grunted, feeling my orgasm approaching. My fingers moved faster over my hard clit. "No," I repeated, moving quickly to my orgasm. It was Jake's face between my legs, his tongue, his lips, his fingers flooded my mind. My body exploded into a serious orgasm. I humped my fingers hard, grinding my clit against my slick flesh for a second orgasm. "Yes baby," I whispered softly, growling deep in my body. I relaxed for several minutes, my mind turning over my thoughts again and again. What kind of sick mother was I? How could I even imagine Jake having sex with me? Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I jumped up, dressed, and headed down stairs.
It's funny how an obsession clouds the mind. Over the next days, weeks, and months, I watched Jake carefully. I purposefully made chances for my confrontations of him, checking his shorts for stains, checking his sheets, observing his hours, his dates, his phone calls when possible. I grew to know when he had a sexual release, or I believed he had sex. His manner, his temperament, his mood all changed. But for a super high school senior stud, he seemed to have very little actual sex, but more red palm play in his room. I even found myself looking through his clothes to find cum stained boxers. I would inhale his musky odor in his dirty clothes.
I grew jealous of his girlfriends. I watched as they played, touching, caressing softly, anything that indicated more intimate contact could be expected. I encouraged him to get to the gym, work out, spend adequate time in his studies, actually ready him self for the rigorous requirements of college life. Then, I became concerned about the coed college life with a young man that was a real physical specimen. I was "Damned if I did, damned if I didn't" encourage him.
I often imagined I was his girlfriend, noting how he touched them, how his hands would massage their neck, back, legs, and even chest when I would sneak a peek to discreetly catch them in some sort of torrid passion. I placed his hands on my body at every opportunity. I hugged him, pressed my body against him with great caution. My nipples would grow hard, my cunt would flood at the thought of him, his hands, his cock. And with the changes of weather, fewer clothes were worn, increasing my desires for this hot, young piece of meat. I imagined the size of his cock. Man sized on a young man. Stamina, I bet he could fuck like a bull, hammer my hungry pussy, and come back for more before my orgasm had even diminished. My son was the best fuck I could ever imagine. And God did I masturbate. I flooded more panties than ever. I was always on the prowl. I was obsessed, I needed his cock.