This chapter is a tease of what is to come. Consider it a build-up chapter. All characters in this entire story are at least eighteen years of age when they engage in sexual activity and all sexual activity is consensual.
Chapter One - "The Accident"
My name is Amy, and this is the story of how I fucked my son. Saying those four words in that order still seems as distant and foreign to me now as they did when it all happened. I'm thirty-eight years old and my son Jimmy is nineteen. My ex-husband Tom left me under circumstances that I never told my son which turned out to be the catalyst for how this whole adventure started. It wasn't the leading event, but certainly the vice that got me into a situation that became irreversible once it started. Irreversible to me because of the secret I once held from my son.
Tom was average at best. He had an average job with average pay and when he came home, he did average things. This included his performance in bed. He was just ...
average
! To say I was bored would be an understatement. He would come to bed and climb on top of me and fumble about like an amateur lover. He would sometimes see to my needs, but he was sloppy and careless when he did. My orgasms were forced and therefore, unsatisfying.
A long time prior to our divorce, I found myself wanting more. It started with online porn. That got me masturbating more and more when he wasn't around. In turn, that left me with less and less desire for him whenever he was in the mood. That eventually began to bore me as well, so I began to seek out other men. It was inevitable that my satisfaction was completely found outside our marital bedroom, and he eventually confronted me about it.
The discussion, admission and subsequent fighting all occurred without Jimmy ever knowing. It was either while he was at school or later at night after he went to sleep. We never screamed or yelled at each other but the aura in the house had certainly changed, and I knew Jimmy was aware that something was up. He acted out in predictable ways, and I took care to respond to them and make sure that whatever he perceived as troubling was not his fault.
During the months of arguments in the house, I reverted to my online porn viewing habit. It didn't seem wise for me to continue fucking other men at that moment so, I took a break and would take care of my needs myself when nobody was home. As time continued to go on, I found myself developing a routine of masturbating no less than twice a day but as often as I could fit in. This was often to the detriment of some of my responsibilities. Sometimes I would brazenly go about it and make sure Tom saw me doing it. I liked to remind him that he was no longer in charge of pleasing me. It was during one of these times he decided he had had enough and left.
That was when Jimmy was fourteen. I never sought out another man for my sexual pleasures after his father left. Instead, I cultivated two habits. When Jimmy was in bed, I would shop online for dildos, vibrators and other sex toys. I used these toys during the day to satisfy my needs, desires, and curiosities. Through the last several years, the things it took to get me off became increasingly more difficult to find. I had watched many of the videos online that I enjoyed, and it was few and far in between where my frequented websites would have something new that did it for me.
I went from simply rubbing my clit with my fingers to pumping a vibrator in my pussy while I watched porn. From there, I began to experiment with anal stimulation. That drifted into dildos in my ass and double penetration. When that became not enough, I would buy butt plugs and walk around the house with them. When that became commonplace, I would then take my sexual adventures outside the house. I would wear vibrating panties to the grocery store or ben-wah balls in my ass while in a theater.
Everything came to a head where I began to bring Jimmy with me during these adventures. Knowing my son was right next to me while I had secret orgasms made them more intense. I would shrug off my quick jerks or tight grips on him as reactions to the environment happening around me. I suddenly became aware one day that I was involving my son in my sex life, and I needed it to stop. That was not a line I was willing to cross so, I sought therapy.
I explained everything to the counselor emphasizing that I wasn't there because I had a concern about my sexual desires but that they had increased so much that I found myself subconsciously involving my son. I had to spend some time explaining that he was not sexually involved but that I was using his presence to achieve the next level of excitement. She reassured me that my need to escalate sexual excitement was normal for hypersexual people.
She used the word hypersexual instead of nymphomaniac which was the normal word for females who had a constant need for sex. She said she didn't like the stigma that was attached to the latter word. She said the gender assignments to those words made it seem like it was evil for women to want more sex than the average woman. Attaching the word "maniac" to the end also didn't seem appropriate. Regardless, she also informed me that it was a little unusual for the condition to go on as long as mine had before seeking help because they were uncomfortable at some new revelation or feeling. She lessened the blow by also adding that some people never seek help or even think about it before doing something regrettable or illegal.
She asked me a lot of questions and after a few sessions, she broke down how I could go about stifling my desire to increase the stakes of my sexual game. Since she was a sexual therapist, she spent many hours improving my knowledge of my own body so I could manipulate it differently. She said this would effectively reset me back to what some would call normal. I remember smiling in the midst of one of these training sessions. I contemplated her showing me first-hand the things she was describing.
My pussy became wet thinking of her sliding her fingers inside me to show me the sensitive areas I was overlooking before. I imagined sliding forward in my chair as she put a finger in my pussy and ass, delivering a yet unknown sensation. It must have been obvious what was going on in my head. She stopped mid-sentence and waited until I suddenly realized she had stopped talking. She smiled and told me she had an idea about what I was thinking but it would have to be a topic for another day. I apologized profusely and resolved to remain focused on our session.
That was four years ago. Jimmy had turned nineteen and was attending college that was far enough away that made weekend stays impossible. Instead, he would come over once a month and stay with me for the weekend. He was always happy to start our weekends as soon as possible each Friday after he arrived. I found myself being ready to go as soon as he got home. We would go out to eat and he would tell me about his month at school, who he's met, and more. Depending on our mood, what we did the rest of the weekend would often be wildly different than the previous. I felt revitalized as a person and a mother. It wasn't meant to last, however.
During one of our visits, Jimmy was driving us home on a Friday evening. I was telling him a story about an encounter with a rude woman in the grocery store the week prior. I was animated with my descriptions, and he was intently listening to me as I regaled my story to him. Our intense involvement in every detail of my story probably derailed proper attention to the physical environment around us. Jimmy was driving properly, but I couldn't say that much about the driver that struck us. The last thing I saw was headlights heading towards the car that seemed to come from the sky.
I woke up the next day. The doctor was there and explained what medically happened to me. Jimmy replayed everything as he remembered it. Between the two of us, we surmised that we were doing the right thing but someone else had jumped the curb of the median and launched into the air. They slammed into the front of the car, causing only Jimmy's airbag to deploy. Meanwhile, the seatbelt on my side did little to minimize my injuries. Both my arms were broken in different places, I had several hairline fractures in one of my feet and that same ankle as well as a concussion.
We spent another two nights in the hospital where Jimmy made arrangements to study online until I was able to take care of myself again. The first night in my own bed was a little painful. Jimmy was settling things down for me, bringing me water for my medications and setting things aside that I would need that night and the following morning. He kept asking me where things were so he could get them for me, and it suddenly hit me. There were things I didn't want him to see in places where the things I needed him to get were at. I quickly looked to see what he had gotten me already. Blankets, water and my pills. That was all I needed that night.
"Babe, why don't you go get some rest? I have what I need for the night," I said, hoping he would take the hint.
He stopped moving around and took inventory of what he provided me.
"I guess that should do for now. I'll be in to check on you first thing," he said, still looking around to make sure he didn't miss anything.
I watched him walk out of the room and turn the main light off. I breathed a sigh of relief, but my relief soon turned to panic as I realized that there was much more to me not being able to take care of myself. Who would feed or wash me? I suddenly groaned at the concept that I won't be able to relieve myself until this was over. It was a rare time when I went more than a day without masturbating. Not cumming for several weeks was not a thing I was going to let happen to me.
I went through my options and the immediate fix for the most important was to get in home nursing care for baths and assistance to the toilet. A nurse would be happy to shave my arm pits and legs, but I didn't know if they would be able to keep my pussy shaved. That aside, I didn't want to go through the next several weeks without any gratification. I drifted off to sleep without an answer to the itch between my legs.
The following morning, Jimmy walked in and insisted I wake and take my medications. I groaned as I sat up so I could drink.
"Mom, I was thinking after I went to bed. I think we need to get someone to come over every day..." he started.
"...for a bath, yes. I thought about that last night as well. I'm glad we thought of that. It would have been awkward had I gotten my heart set on a warm bath and only you to provide it."
He snickered awkwardly as he went about his new morning routine. I was frustrated already at the situation since right about then is when I would be kicking off my panties in the living room with my laptop ready to cum for the first time of the day. I began to debate how this predicament could be handled when a slamming dresser drawer snapped me back to reality. I quickly looked over to Jimmy who was standing there with a look of shock on his reddened face.
"Don't... open that," I said sarcastically, knowing he had seen a small collection of my sex toys. I hung my head in mild shame at his discovery.
"Mom, it's okay. I've seen those before," he said as we continued his routine.
"
