*all characters over 18
note: this is a series of vignettes; continuity between them is admittedly loose, but some fun content for mom/son enthusiasts of all stripes.
Prologue:
Susanna stepped out of the shower that morning and examined her body in the bathroom mirror, one of the countless little inspections a woman makes of her form throughout her life, each more scathing than the last. This morning was different though. Susanna felt good about how she looked. She wasn't the little Susie who turned every head--including a few she shouldn't have--in high school before letting herself get knocked up, but the weight of her age fell on all the right places on her: tits, ass, and thighs to be precise. Sure she had a bit of a belly on her, but personally she thought it looked cute on her. She remembered being pregnant with her son and how big her belly had been then, and she got a little tingle in her pussy at the thought. Another pregnancy wasn't at the top of her wishlist right now, but it had been a long time since she had anyone to service her who wasn't made of plastic or her own ten fingers.
Feelings of maternal yearning, amorous desire, and all-consuming horniness were getting all mixed up inside of her. She dried off and tried to put her mind off getting railed and onto the events of the days. Her son, Jake, had moved back home a few weeks ago. It had been nice having him back, but at the same time, Susanna felt bad watching her boy struggle through life. After four years getting a degree and another two bumping it up to a master's, Jake still found himself broke, unemployed, and alone. The final nail in the coffin had been a very messy split with his fiancée. When she ended up marrying another man a few months later, Jake completely shut down and locked himself away from the world, other than a mysterious few months when she lost contact with him entirely. It broke Susanna's heart to see her boy down like this, but she just didn't know what to do but give him a place to stay and try to keep him fed while he got his life back together.
There was another, more distracting aspect to Jake's prolonged stay at her place: the boy masturbated constantly. Either he had forgotten she could hear him from her bedroom, or he just didn't care, because he seemed Jake would stop and rub one out whenever the mood struck him. He pulled in a little money with various part-time jobs, but instead of spending time with friends or trying to meet a girl--two things much more difficult under current circumstances, to be fair--he would spend his free time jerking off to internet porn. It was disappointing, but not entirely unexpected. Jake had always been a shy boy. That he had been engaged at all was a pleasant shock to his mother.
One day, Susanna was curious what exactly Jake was looking at all day. She told herself it was motherly concern, but part of her got a little sexual thrill out of knowing what her son got off on under her roof. Under the excuse of cleaning up his room a bit (God knows the place needed a turn over) she cracked his password with a little luck and went about snooping. Jake had two browsers set up on his laptop and didn't seem to bother clearing the history on either, but the first seemed pretty innocent, just the social media, e-mails, some work stuff. The second, however, was an absolute goldmine. Now, Susanna was no prude, but the material her son looked up--and apparently pleasured himself to--was enough to make her blush. On one hand, if these were the kinds of things a modern boy expected from sex, maybe his engagement fell apart for a good reason, but on the other, the thought of being so open and vulnerable--to be used like one of these girls by a man--was enough to leave Susie flooded. The real shocker though were the ages of most of the women in these videos: they were as old or older than her. This was a ball park of course, but you could replace every "MILF" pornstar in these videos with Susanna and any of her female friends, and the only thing you would have to change was a willingness to be taped doing a little hardcore sex for anyone to look up online and jerk off to. Even your own son.
Even your own son. Susanna chewed that over. It was salty but sweet: the thrill of seducing a much younger man, with the added taboo of incest. Other than some playful groping and kissing practice with her younger sister, Susanna had never given incest much mind. She wasn't scandalized by the very concept as one was meant to be in polite society. As long as two people loved each other, who cared if they carried the same genetics? There was a beautiful closeness and intimacy to the act.
Without thinking, Susanna's hand had moved from her sons laptop to the space between her thighs. She absentmindedly snapped the button on her pants and snaked her fingers under her panties and down to her clit. Picking a particular scandalous video of a milf gangbang, she pressed play and watched a woman who looked very much like herself--with porn star proportions of course--getting violently plowed by fix or six guys. The whole time, the woman couldn't stop smiling, and what should have seemed demeaning was instead deeply sexy and exciting. Susanna edged herself over to orgasm just as the women in the video was getting covered in cum from six different cocks.
Flustered, Susanna slammed the laptop shut and rushed out of the room. It was still a mess, but she would just have to tell Jake some excuse later.
a (Susanna).
A son's eighteenth birthday should be a cause for celebration. In most god-fearing American households, it's the day when the boy in a family can finally say he has become a man. That was true in ours as well, but the shadow of loss colored the whole affair all.
You see: I'm a widow. A recent widow: my beloved husband, Craig, died in an automobile accident almost a year ago. Of the four passengers in the car (Craig, his mother, his sister, and her wife) he was the only fatality. Julie, Maddy, and Yvonne had tried to give their condolences at the funeral, but I just broke down crying so badly that my son, Jake, had to escort me out.
I was so ashamed by the blatant display of emotion that I didn't have the heart to return any of their calls or messages or even listen to them. In my grief, I became a recluse. I barely ate or slept, just stayed up all night watching movies, my heart full of deep sorrow over what I had lost.
Jake took notice: he dropped out of all his school clubs and quit the swim team to spend more time at home with me, even when I assured him again and again that making those sort of sacrifices for his sad sack of a mother was the absolute last thing I wanted.
That said, it wasn't so bad having a young strapping man around the house: Craig was almost a decade my senior--my own sister would often joke that he was a 'cradle snatcher'--and I hadn't been with many other men before we married. Our sex life was vigorous and inventive. We were never bored and probably would have only invented more elaborate scenarios and games as we grew old together, but his death cut that short. Jake on the other hand was fresh. I had named him after the ancient Greek hero, but I couldn't help but keep certain other Greek hero and his mother out of my wet dreams and the habitually self-servicing I had taken up as my sex drive finally started to return.
Of course, I knew it could never happen: we were parent and child for Christ's sake! It was just about the worst sin after rape and murder that I could imagine. Oh it was fun to fantasize though, so very fun...at least, until that night:
I have moods you see: I always have. Dark, terrible moods that leave me storm-tossed for days on end, night after night, wishing I had died in that car instead of my sweet Craig. In the throes of these moods, I drank, and in drinking my inventive mind began to work in overdrive. I've always had an obsessions with the Greeks--their mythology I mean, though they are a beautiful people--and drowning the wine-dark sea of my own obsession, I imagine their heroes and monsters, at war. Over what? Me, of course: what all men truly desire, the fertile body of the goddess, the mother and whore that will cradle their mighty forms and whisper sweet-nothings and high praises as long as they keep their lance hard and spearing me, body and soul.
In the depths of one such imagining, I got on a real bender. Everything went out of control after that.
a (Jake).
I spent most of my life thinking I lived a fairly normal--even boring--life with my happily married parents and my older sister. It was only two years ago when I learned the awful truth. My sister had gotten in a fight with my parents, which wasn't unusual, but it got really heated this time. I came out of our basement to see her running between her room and her car, hurriedly packing her thing to leave.
