My husband and I have made a fairly good life for ourselves. Weâve worked hard, saved as much as we could, and lived within our means. Both of us are professionals, so our combined incomes add up to a tidy sum. After ten years of marriage we managed to buy a house on the beach on the Outer Banks. Whenever we can we drop everything, even if only for a weekend, and go to the beach. Itâs wonderful.
We had our son Jason when we were still in college. Pure luck, he was born in the middle of the summer, so I didnât even have to miss any classes. I graduated on schedule, with a ready-made family. Weâve had a good life.
Jason is now a sophomore in college. That should make us seem old, I guess, but Iâm only 37 and donât feel old. In fact, I still look and feel pretty darn good, thank you very much. As always, this summer has been a hodgepodge of trips to the beach for a weekend or a week. Because Iâve been in the same job almost since college, Iâve built up quite a lot of vacation time. I always have two weeks more vacation than Dan, my husband. And I donât feel a bit guilty about taking that vacation at the beach, while heâs home working his butt off.
I just love the beach. Our house isnât spectacular; just a two bedroom bungalow with a combined dining room-kitchen and a den downstairs. But we have a wonderful enclosed porch that runs around the half of the house facing the ocean. We can open it up when itâs nice, or keep the screens closed if the bugs are biting. We sit out with a glass of wine, listen to the waves and watch the stars. Did I mention our house sits right on the beach?
This year Jason stayed at the beach all summer and worked as a lifeguard. Towards the end of the summer Jason invited his college roommate to visit him and spend the last couple weeks of the summer there. Jason would quit his job a little early and they could spend the time together. I had met Tommy once or twice the previous year. They werenât roommates then, but had become best friends as freshmen and decided to room together as sophomores. Tommy was on the college swimming team. Thatâs how he met Jason. We met Tommy when we watched several of the swim team meets. They arenât competitors on the team, since Jason is a sprinter and Tommy swims distance races. They are both very good, as far as I can tell.
It happened that I planned to spend the second two weeks in August at the beach house. I needed to lie in the sun and bake my tension away. Dan couldnât get away, so it was just me and the two boys. We led separate existences there. I lived my little life, bathing and sun-bathing, sipping wine in the evenings, and enjoying the quiet. Jason and Tommy swam and surfed during the day and bar-hopped at night. They spent very little time at the beach house, which was fine with me. I was there to chill out.
My one concession to being a mother during the vacation was that I would make the boys breakfast if they were up when I was making breakfast and dinner if they were willing to eat the healthy things that I preferred. One day late in the first week Jason was up early enough that I was willing to make him breakfast before I went for my jog on the beach. I asked him what his plans were for the day (not prying, I just was making polite conversation). He told me that they were going for a little road trip to a beach further north and might not be back till very late. That was fine with me. Although we were studiously avoiding each other in the interests of having our own space, I still looked forward to having the house to myself for the whole day.
I jogged about five miles, then came home and changed into my swim suit. As I padded down the stairs of our porch and strolled onto the beach, I could see that the trunk of Jasonâs car was open. The boys must be getting ready to leave, I thought. I lay on the beach for hours, it seemed. Occasionally when I was too warm I would wade into the water to cool off. But then Iâd be back on my towel, letting the sun just melt that tension right out of my body. I felt so relaxed and peaceful. When the sun got high in the sky and the temperature started to soar, I decided to call it a morning. I went back to the beach house. We have an outside shower so we can clean off before we come into the house. Ours is a very well enclosed shower, so there is no fear that anyone on the beach or on the street can see you. The only thing I donât like about the beach is getting sand in your swimsuit. When it gets in the bottom of my bikini, itâs so uncomfortable that when Iâm through bathing I am eager to get out of my suit. I took off my suit, and took a thoroughly enjoyable shower under my house. When all the salt and sand were off of me, I wrapped myself in a towel and climbed up to the porch and then into the house. I felt so good.
I threw the towel into the hamper we keep by the door for just that purpose and strolled through the house in the nude, which is my favorite way to be when Iâm alone. I decided I had better get dressed, since I really couldnât be sure when the boys would be getting home. I wouldnât want to shock my son, Jason. He might be most shocked that I have no pubic hair. I keep myself totally shaved. Dan liked it that way nineteen years ago, and I still like the way it feels when he licks me there. And just knowing Iâm shaved there still gives me a bit of a thrill. Anyway, this isnât the kind of information a son wants to find out about his mother. To Jason, Iâve always been this conservative swimming mom type who tries never to embarrass him by being either too sexy or too dowdy. He wants to believe that of me, and Iâve let him believe it. Heâll never know that his mother loves sex.
Heâll never know that his mother has a rich fantasy life. Sometimes she dreams of showing herself off to strange men; even to strange women. Heâll never know that his mother masturbates almost every day of her life. They say that women are at their sexual peak at a certain age â my age! Itâs one of Godâs little jokes that most men reach their sexual peak in their teens after which they are on the slippery slope down to no peak at all. Unfortunately, Dan is like most men. Heâs content with a once-a-week session of affectionate touching followed by brief but frenzied lovemaking. Just as Iâm getting started, Dan is starting to snore. I love him, and heâs a good lover, he just lacks a little of his youthful stamina. My life is good enough over-all that I am more than willing to accept a less than perfect sex life. If Iâm not getting enough from Dan, I just finger myself to completion. Thatâs enough for me to be happy. Still, I have my little fantasies. Theyâre what fuel my rich masturbatory life.
I was padding through the house totally naked. Lying on the beach in my bikini (even though it is a conservative motherly bikini), always makes me feel a little sexy. By the time I was out of my suit, out of my shower, and walking to the bedroom, the only thing on my mind was to lie in bed and stick several fingers into my pussy, and just imagine some of the men I see around the beach but this time without their swim suits. The house was totally quiet. I walked into my bedroom eagerly anticipating a self-inflicted orgasm of the nastiest kind. What I saw stopped me in my tracks with my mouth and my eyes wide open.
Tommy was lying on my bed totally nude using a pair of my panties wrapped around his organ to masturbate with. He was large. I mean he was very large, especially when compared to Dan (which is the only comparison I can make, to be honest). And he seemed to be on the verge of ejaculating! When I saw him in that position I gasped. That was the first time Tommy was aware of my presence. His eyes opened and his head turned toward me. He knew he had been caught! Then he saw me. His eyes went to my breasts. His mouth opened in surprise, but I saw that his hand kept rubbing his penis. Then he looked further down to see my pussy. He saw it was shaved! His hand was pistoning his cock, his eyes locked onto my cunt and he began to shoot gobs of come, up into the air, then down onto his chest and stomach. He was moaning and beating his cock and staring at my pussy.
I didnât know what to do. Was I supposed to be angry? Iâm not his mother, and heâs an adult anyway. He can do whatever he wants. Maybe he shouldnât be on my bed. Maybe he shouldnât be using my panties. MY PANTIES!? Why was he using my panties to masturbate with? My God! It finally occurred to me that I was standing in front of this boy totally naked. He was finally over his climax, but his eyes never left my body, and he continued to massage his member. It seemed to be somewhat softer, but even then it was still bigger than my Danâs when fully inflated. I couldnât help but look at it. It was just so very interesting. Tommy had come to his senses enough to be thoroughly embarrassed. His face became beet red and he grabbed a pillow and put it over his midsection.
I was embarrassed, but mostly I was shocked. I wasnât âshocked, shockedâ like Claude Rains in Casablanca. I was really shocked. Letâs put it in perspective.
1.I thought I was alone in the house. I didnât expect to see anyone, least of all a naked (and might I add gorgeous) man
2.I had only seen one penis before in my life (in person) not including my sonâs which doesnât count.
3.I never saw a man masturbate. Even Dan had never done that in front of me.
4.I never saw a man come before.
5.No man except my husband had ever seen me naked.
6.Although intellectually I knew that a manâs cock could be large, the reality of the size, the enormity of presence of a large cock had never hit me before I saw Tommyâs monster.
It was the shock most of all that made me stand there and stare as that young man abused himself in front of me. And yes, I suppose my nakedness may well have contributed to the intensity of the boyâs orgasm. At least I hope so.
I knew that I was in the middle of a difficult situation. Was I supposed to run out of the room like an immature teenager? I saw no logic in that. I reached into my closet and grabbed a light robe and covered myself. Unlike all men, and like all women, I knew the only thing to be done was to deal with the situation right now. I could tell Tommy wanted nothing more than to run off to his room and sink under his covers for the rest of his life. I knew I had to try to lighten the blow of this public humiliation. After all, who was hurt?