I had looked forward to the upcoming summer. The semester had ended, my grading and other duties done and I had looked forward to a several months of leisure. A year before, the divorce settlement had come through and as a result I had the spacious house to myself, located in a secluded area far from the din of the city, with no tiresome grouchy husband to worry about. At forty-five, I felt on top of the world, except for one thing. I was a woman with a strong but very private imagination. To be explicit, I thought a lot about sex. But I wasn't getting any. I don't know why, but the men I had contact with didn't interest me. Almost every one of them came on to me at one point or another. I guess my appearance had something to do with it. I have to admit I'm the sort of woman who looks both experienced and wanting experience, if you know what I mean.
Yet, in truth, I was very shy and didn't like the men who came on to me. So, instead of the real thing, much of my free time was consumed with sexual fantasies, including read stories at Literotica.com. That's what prompted me to write this story. I know, you'll think it is just fiction. I agree that it began that way, so to speak, because I dreamt about it before it ever happened. But, in the end, it really did happen. I'll try to "tell like it was," even though it may seem incredible.
That summer, my son Bill had come home to visit for a few weeks shortly after my classes at the university were done.
On arriving, he had let me know that he had an every day ritual in which he arose very early to jog, then return to shower and have breakfast. I promised to have his coffee ready by the time he had showered, getting up somewhat later. So, one day after another, we enjoyed the warm lazy days, sitting in the kitchen, sipping coffee and talking about one thing or another. One feature of the kitchen was a huge window through which the morning sun would shine, and we would feel its warmth as we sat there looking out upon the green grass, hearing the birds sing, admiring the blue sky and the far-off mountain range. It was so nice, that sun in the morning.
And so nice, that son in the morning.
Bill was easy to talk to and good to look at. At twenty-five, he had become quite a hunk, a lithe tall young man with a deep tan and an engaging smile. After this shower, he usually came down wearing only his shorts without any self-consciousness about it. And I didn't mind at all since after my morning shower I was usually preparing breakfast just wearing a long T-shirt with no bra over fresh panties. I am a tall, heavy-set woman and, as I said earlier, I like to think I am good-looking. I would notice him glance at my prominent breasts on occasion, but thought as little of it as my own admiration for his handsome body -- at least, consciously. I think that neither of us, at that time, had any thought of anything sexual between us ... until that morning.
There are dreams and there is reality. I had always made a sharp distinction between the two. My sometimes frenzied dream-states- actually day-dream states that I produced and directed with my imaginative skills - never intersected with the mundane reality of being a Mom enjoying being with her only son, especially during those warm, lazy summer mornings of harmless chit-chat about this and that.
As I say, that all changed that one pleasant sunny morning.
That particular morning, after my shower, I looked over at the new shoes I had purchased the day before, treating myself to the expensive item. The warmth of the morning sun filtered into the room and I just felt so good, so glad to be alive, that the shoes suddenly seemed the thing to wear, even though I was otherwise dressed as usual and had no plans to go out. When I had tried them on in the store, they had felt so ... feminine, sexy. A woman nearby had said, "Wow, those are fantastic!" The heels did the trick, I think. I had never worn shoes with such high heels before but the sheer feel of them, the way they made me feel - well, I couldn't resist. So, that morning, I came downstairs with the new high-heeled shoes to start the coffee going.
When Bill came down to the kitchen, fresh from his shower, there was something different about him too. His briefs were the tiniest I had ever seen and the outline of his private parts was far more noticeable than usual. I gulped and looked away after greeting him. And he had noticed something new too.
"Hey, Mom, I like the shoes!"
"Oh, yes, Honey, I just decided to try them on, bought them yesterday."
"Incredible," Bill whispered as he ogled my body, causing me to blush. His eyes worked up from the shoes to my belly to my breasts where I felt rather than saw the nipples harden and thereby show-up from under the tight-fitting T-shirt I had thrown on.
We sat and sipped our coffee.
"Hey, Mom, do you go out much these days?" he asked.
"If you mean dates, the answer is ... no," I replied and then had a thought of my own.
"What about you, honey, lots of girls?"
"Well, I don't know if its 'lots,' but some, you know how it is."
Where he was sitting, with his long legs lazily spread out, I had a view of his entire body. The briefs had done it, I think. I couldn't keep my eyes away from him. I found myself studying his bare feet, then his tanned long legs, then his ... mid-section, with his semi-erect organ outlined against the briefs.
By the time my eyes reached his handsome face, I saw his own eyes studying my body. I admit that my breasts are not average, by any means. Unlike some women with large breasts, I love to be free of a bra and feel them sway as I walk. So they droop a little, who cares? Men usually focus on them no matter what I wear. And now pressed against my bright white and tight T-shirt, they were an especially attractive target for roving eyes. Bill was no different than any other man in that respect. I felt a little tingle run through me as my nipples hardened.
I walked over the large kitchen counter, turning my back to him. My ogling his body had been too obvious. Yet, despite a voice in my mind that cautioned me to stop, I felt myself propelled into something that felt exciting, something I couldn't name or locate on any map.
"How many women have you had, honey?" I felt my ears become somewhat warm as I asked the intimate question.
There was a silence and I felt terrible for a moment, but then he replied with a laugh.
"Do you mean, how many have I fucked, Mom?" He said it with no sense of saying anything taboo. A new and more frank generation, I guess. I found the word produced a tremor in me. It was one of those words that change the boundary between fantasy and reality. I wasn't at all sure, at that point, that I wanted such a thing to happen, even if I was entering the boundary zone.
"Don't talk that way," I said, blushing.
"Okay, Mom, sorry. How many have I gone to bed with? Let's see ... hmm ... I'd say about twenty."
"Twenty!" I replied, shocked. "That's ... a large number."
"Oh, I don't know, maybe .... How about you, Mom?
"What do you mean?" My ears were now red, I knew, but my back was still turned to him as I buttered some toast. I found the conversation gave me a thrill.
"You know ... how many men have you had?" he replied.
"Well, actually ...." I was blushing. I hated to admit it. "Only your father."
"Wow! Mom! You can't mean it! A babe like you!"
"Bill, what do you mean?"
I had turned to stare at him, leaning against the counter, forgetting about the toast.
He began to stare hungrily at the outline of my erect nipples. I felt myself turn to liquid. The boundary was dissolving quickly, maybe too quickly, but somehow I didn't want to stop it.
"Mom, you're ... incredibly sexy. Don't you want to be ... to have ... you know, don't you want ... physical love?"
His handsome face was flushed now too. My eyes involuntarily shifted down his lanky body and I was shocked to see his excited state. The briefs could not conceal that he was fully erect as he stared me, his own mother!
I knew we should stop but I felt so hot, so tingling, so ... thrilled. My own son! Talking to me that way, looking at me that way. My nipples were very hard. My panties were soaked with my juices. My heart was beating rapidly and my chest was heaving, making my breasts even more of a lure for his lustful stare.
I turned again and faced away from him, my hands moving aimlessly on the counter.
Suddenly he was behind me. I felt his fingers drift quietly along my shoulders, gently moving my hair out of the way as he kissed my neck.
"Mom," he whispered, "you're so beautiful." I felt his groin press a little against me.
