The original story took a direction that I (quite rightly) received criticism for. I have re-written the story with a different direction. Any and all comments appreciated, as I like to take all opinions on board.
*
My name is Victoria, although everyone calls me Vicky. I am a single mother of one son Adam. I am 35 years old and my son is 18. I had Adam when I was 17. I was a young impressionable girl, when his father who was 32, seduced me with his smoldering good looks, class, charm, and his quite rich lifestyle. I was the envy of every girl I knew, that was until he got me pregnant and ran off like a scalded cat.
I pursued him through the courts for maintenance, which I receive and which helps keep us in some level of comfort. That however is no substitute for a man and father.
To get the descriptions out of the way, I am 5ft 2in. I am a brunette with a loose slightly curly style. This may sound a little conceited, but I have a very nice figure and I am also very pretty. I am not boasting, just stating facts. Adam takes after his father, he is quite tall and well made for a young boy, and has inherited his father's dark swarthy features, and he is very good looking.
This lack of the traditional male figure meant that Adam and I had always been close. We always turned to, and leant on, each other. Throughout his childhood we cuddled and as a young teenager we would still snuggle up. Even now Adam was a young man, we still from time to time, watched TV together cuddling.
I watched Adam develop as a person, through the years, I was now aware of him developing as a young man.
I had seen him naked throughout his childhood, and then seen him in trunks and swim shorts with his friends in the pool as a youth. I always thought he had nothing to be afraid of in the showers so to speak. I know as a mother you shouldn't do this, but having watched him grow into a young man, I had lately found myself wondering just how much he had grown. He was an adult now, yet he was still only young after all.
I was to accidentally find out.
One day I left the house to go shopping, only to realize when I reached the shops that I had left my purse at home. I returned home and let myself in the front door and shouted
"Adam?"
No reply.
As we live in a single storey house, we have a hallway which lets onto the rest of the house. Along this hallway is the bathroom, and as I walked down the hall, I could see the bathroom door was open and hear music playing (This is why Adam had not heard me return.) As I approached the door, I looked at the wall on the other side of the corridor and realized, that through the full length mirror on that wall I could see into the bathroom.
Adam had showered and now stood naked rubbing his hair with a towel. My eyes worked downwards as I gazed at his muscled chest, his flat stomach, his thick black pubic hair and eventually his penis.
"Oh my God, he is so well hung," I thought. My boy was enormous.
My eyes were fixed on his groin, and then I suddenly came to my senses and moved before he took the towel from his face. I crept back down the hallway and left the house. I got back in my car and found my arms and legs were both quivering as though either shocked or excited.
For the next few days I could do nothing but think about what had happened. The mental picture of my son, and more importantly his penis, would not leave me. When I masturbated using my own son as the focal point I knew something was very wrong.
Unsure of what was happening in my head, for days I fought with the persistent nagging need that I had, for him to see me as I had seen him. The thought would not go away, it was with me constantly, making me both nervous and excited beyond belief. I wanted, no I needed, my son to see me naked and to look at my body. I decided I would never rest, these all consuming thoughts would never leave me, until I had made it happen.
I wanted to exactly re-create what had happened before.
I knew what time Adam got home from his job as an apprentice electronics engineer. I put on music, so as to make him confident I hadn't heard him come in. I worked out exactly where I had been stood in the hall and the point of the bathroom where he had stood. It got very close to the crucial time. I left the shower running and waited behind the curtains in the sitting room, peering through the gap, my heart leaping into my mouth when his bike came round the corner.
I ran down the hall and I got in the shower to wet myself and make it look authentic. I got out again and took up the pose that I desperately wanted my son to see me in. I heard the door close, but Adam didn't call out to me, the music making it pointless I assume. He dumped his bag by the door and started down the hallway. As he approached I already had my towel over my face and head, leaving a tiny gap. I peered through this tiny gap to confirm he was there, I desperately needed to know he had seen me, going through all this, only to be unsure what he had actually seen would have been torture.
Adam stopped at the point where the angle of the mirror showed me to him. I could see through the gap of the towel as his face took on an appearance of shock and surprise.
I was shaking like a leaf, my own son was watching, as my firm uplifted breasts bounced and jiggled with the action of me rubbing myself. I could see by the angle of his eyes, he was staring at my pussy, taking in my tight, black, curly mound. I was wet through, I was dripping in more ways than one.
We stood like that for as long as we both dared. I decided I had to be the first to make a move, it would be unrealistic for me to continue drying myself for much longer and it would start to look suspicious if I did. I slowly turned my back to him, so he could see my bum as well as allow me to remove the towel, which would be a warning to him to leave.
When I slowly turned around he was gone. I struggled to dress, my whole body shaking, I took time to compose myself and eventually summoned the courage and nerve to go into the kitchen.
"Oh hi mom," said Adam.
"I was just wondering where you were, I have been home a while." He was playing the same game of pretence as me!
All that evening, I could both see, and sense Adam's eyes constantly on me. I was shaking inside with apprehension and fear over what I had deliberately done. What sort of person was I? What sort of woman would do this? The sexual tension between us was stifling. Adam had seen his mom naked, but had no idea that his mom knew this, or that she also had seen him.
"What are you doing tonight Adam?" I asked him, secretly hoping he would be in for the evening.
"Oh I think I will just stay home and watch a movie," he replied. I secretly hoped he had changed some plan or another to be with me.