Hi all :)
A bit of a direction change from parts 1 & 2. I'm not quite ready to take this series to its, seemingly, obvious conclusion just yet ;)
If you're new, I would suggest reading the first two parts, but it's not a must-do!
Anyway, please enjoy!
*****
I sat outside Liz's office and waited for her to arrive. My stomach felt a little on edge. I was unsure how I was going to explain what I'd done. Last time she was wonderful. She was understanding. She made me feel so much better about what I had done. I was hoping she would do the same again, although, granted, this time my behaviour was much more depraved.
The morning after the night before. The night before being the night I masturbated over my comatose son.
That morning, I sat on the edge of my bed terrified to leave my room. Terrified to face the consequences of my actions. Surely he would have awoke and wondered what the crusty dry substance was that was spread over his body? Surely though, even in the darkest recesses of his mind, he would not have been able to imagine what had actually happened?
For a brief moment it occurred to me that I was more concerned about him knowing what I had done as opposed to me feeling any sort of shame or guilt for my behaviour. I quickly dismissed this thought. I'd gotten very good at burying those feelings. Just a healthy sense of loathing simmered in the background of my mind.
A few minutes passed and I finally found my courage and exited my bedroom and made the short few steps journey to Si's room down the hall. His door was open. I peered inside. He was gone. His bed was messy and the clothes I'd taken off him were still where I had left them. The images were coming back to me: I could see myself on my knees, straddling my prone boy, my hand gladly pleasuring my pussy.
The flush of the toilet snapped me out of my trip down depraved memory lane. I sharply turned to face my clearly hungover son. He was wearing his bathrobe, his eyes were sunken into his skull and big dark rings framed them. "Morning." I said cheerily.
"Morning." He grumbled back at me.
Despite my worries about him knowing what I had done the previous night, I still got a small amount of satisfaction out of his suffering. After all, he had interrupted me mid pleasure session. "Feeling a bit delicate, are we?" I smugly asked.
"Please, I could really do without... whatever this is." He brushed by me and back into his room.
"I don't suppose you remember too much about last night?" I enquired.
He fell face first back onto his bed. "No." Was his muffled reply. "Just... alcohol."
I couldn't stifle my laughter. I was definitely laughing at the mess he was in, but I a portion of the laughter was relief, knowing that I had gotten away with what I'd done. The greatest heist of all time had been pulled off as far as I was concerned!
Why his was a crusty mess when he awoke never came up, and if it did, he never spoke to me about it. He never even asked me how big a state he was that night.
My train of thought was broken by the sound of Liz's office door opening. Liz popped her head around the door and smiled at me. "Come on in." She said with a big friendly smile on her face. I smiled back, stood up and followed her into her office. Liz was wearing a rather fetching cream pant suit. Her long blonde hair seemed to be glowing. She looked well.
We both took our seats in the dimly, yet comforting, lit room; her in her big beige armchair, me on the big squishy sofa across from her. I loved that sofa, it was so soft, you could sink right into it. "How've you been?" Liz asked.
"Not too bad." I lied.
Liz studied me and smiled. "If you were not too bad I doubt you would have asked for this session." I'd not lied very well. Her knack of seeing through my bullshit was a gift.
I rolled my eyes. "Well, yeah."
"How have things been at home?" She wasted no time probing me.
"They were going great. I'd been doing exactly as you suggested." I started to explain.
"With regards to your son?" She interjected.
I nodded. "Yes."
"Your fantasies about him had ceased?"
"They had. I'd been focussing my... urm... Arousal elsewhere. And it was working!" I became a little animated at the end.
Liz gave me a knowing look. "That sounds good, but I sense a but."
I sighed. "He came home drunk, I mean really drunk." I laid the whole story out for her: how I had been disturbed as I masturbated. How he's passed out on his bed. How I took off his sticky clothes. How I wrestled with morality when deciding whether or not to remove his pants.
With each detail revealed I looked to Liz to gauge her reaction. She was just like she always was: calm.
Things began to shift, though, when I confessed to ogling his soft, thick cock. Liz shifted in her seat. "So... you didn't leave?" She asked me.
I shook my head. "No. I knew I should have. I tried to remember everything you had told me."
For the first time Liz seemed to hesitate before asking me her next question. "Wh... What happened next?"
I gulped. "I took off my robe."
Liz raised her eyebrows. "Oh."
I confessed that I masturbated right there in front of him. I confessed that I had put my knees either side of him and rubbed my soaking wet snatch for him. I confessed that I wanted to suck his prick. I confessed that I only didn't because I was worried he'd wake up, not because it was wrong. The look of calm was well and truly gone. I then confessed the unthinkable...
"I squirted all over him!" As I confessed this final, sordid detail, Liz exhaled heavily, puffing out her cheeks, and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. This was the first time that I had ever seen her rattled like this. I paused. "Are you okay?" I asked her.
"Uh... yes, yes, I'm fine." She tried to compose herself. "Please continue."
I looked at her concerned. "That's all of it." We sat in silence. An uncomfortable one. Our first.
"Right, well, that was quite a story." She said, flustered. I had never seen her like this. She took another pause. "I'm sorry about this."
"It's fine, are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, I'm okay. Sorry, this is very unprofessional of me." She swept her long blonde hair back over her shoulders. I suddenly felt that I'd made a mistake in confessing my awful behaviour, Liz was clearly disgusted by it. Suddenly all those feelings of shame and guilt, that I had been locking away, started to rise to the surface.s I began to panic.
"I should go." I stood up to leave, my face flush, tears gathering. I wanted to run away and hide and cry forever.
"No, no, no. Please, sit." Liz pleaded, she could see how distressed I was. "Please." I sat back down. "I apologise. I do not want you to feel that you are being judged, that's not what my behaviour is meant to convey."
I sat with my arms crossed. "I do feel like I'm being judged." I confessed.
"Not at all, this is all me."
I was confused. "What do you mean?" I asked her.
Liz looked nervous, I'd never seen her look nervous. "I'm meant to be impartial. I should not have any feelings on what you tell me, good or bad."
"Good?" I was confused.
