Autism Blues

She found her son in her bedroom. Connor was laying on his stomach, topless, head at the foot of her bed, feet in the air, iPad in hand. The sounds coming from the iPad were muted yet distinct. It was easily discernible, a woman in the throes of orgasm. Angie's son was watching porn.

She asked, "Everything okay, baby?"

His eyes never left the screen, too engrossed to look away, unfazed by his mother's presence. "Yeah." As always, his voice sounded gawky and ungraceful, a direct result of his autism.

Angie smiled. Although some would find it comical or inelegant, the sound of his voice always made her heart melt. "It's bedtime, baby. You sleeping with me tonight?"

He remained silent, captivated by the dirty video playing on his iPad.

She said, "If you're feeling fuzzy, baby, I could give you a special massage."

He immediately dropped the device to the bed, his eyes lighting up in sudden excitement.

Angie slipped her robe from her shoulders and stood naked at the edge of the bed next to her son. Conner stared straight ahead at the wall and kept his feet in the air while his mother started to untie his shoes.

"Would you like to sleep naked with me tonight?" she asked, watching him blush slightly.

Silent, staring straight ahead, his heart thumping in his chest, he nodded doubtfully.

Angie untied his other shoe. "You're not still shy, are you, baby?" she cooed.

Connor shook his head, his eyes wide with apprehension.

Angie slid off Connor's shoe, frowning at the state of his sock. His big toe poked through a gaping hole. It broke her heart to see her boy in tatty clothes, but money was tight. Pushing her woes aside, she pinched the ends of his socks and tugged them both off at the same time.

Conner rolled over onto his back to face her, to see her naked body. "I feel horny," he blurted, his breathing laboured and erratic.

"Well, if you'd just relax I might be able to help with that," she smiled. Grasping the ends of his trousers, she slid them down his legs and past his feet, leaving him clad in his boxer briefs. They were tented at the crotch, his cock straining the tight fabric.

A tear trickled down her cheek as she gazed down at him. He had his father's blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Her boy was beautiful, perfect in every way. She knew what she was about to do was wrong, potentially harmful to his mental health, but she had no other choice. It was something that had to be done, for both their sakes.

Angie reached down and took both his hands in hers as Connor gazed up at her. A bedside table lamp offered the only light. It was sufficient to illuminate the small room.

"Come give me a cuddle," she breathed, pulling him up from the bed and wrapping her arms around him. His shoulders were thin, scrawny. He was gangly, not quite yet the man he was going to be, still a boy in both body and mind.

They spent the next few minutes hugging, their naked bodies pressed together, his cock mashing against her upper thigh. The skin-to-skin contact felt amazing. She kissed her son's head and stroked his back with the tips of her fingers, sending frissons of sexual excitement sizzling through his immature body.

Slowly, she slid her hands down his back, past the waistband of his boxer briefs and cupped his bare buttocks in her hands and squeezed hard. Her hands kneaded the cheeks for a moment before pulling them apart and teasing his anus with the tip of her forefinger.

He nestled his face in her neck and groaned with delight. His mind whirled with pleasure as his mother's intimacy stormed his senses. Her touch, her nakedness was all consuming. His body tingled with blissful sensations. His hips rocked gently from side to side, rubbing his erection against her naked thigh. He was leaking from his member. The inside of his boxer shorts felt damp and gooey.

Angie worked her son's underpants down his legs until they fell at his feet, leaving him naked. She pushed him back, making him sit upright at the edge of the bed. His face was inches away from her pussy, her pubic hair tickling his nose. She tapped his hands with her fingers, indicating for him to play with her most private area. He didn't need telling twice. He lifted both hands and touched the thatch of hair between her legs. He sniffed her, inhaling the subtle musk of her sex, before drawing a forefinger over her slit. It was dry and tight, but that did not deter Connor. He played with her pussy to his heart's content – tugging the labia, teasing her entrance, running his fingers through the thatch of pubic hair and stroking her clit with his thumb. All the while captivated, awe-struck by his mother's womanhood. As he slipped a finger into her pussy, Angie forced his face against her pubic mound, mashing his right cheek against her pubes. She stroked his head, the back of his neck, feeling his finger find the deep depths of her body.

"I want to come," he breathed as he withdrew his finger from his mother's snatch.

Lying on her back on the bed, Angie helped Connor mount her chest. He straddled her upper torso, his legs either side of her chest, his balls nestling in the valley between her tits. Staring up at his face, Angie put both hands to work between his legs, fondling his balls with one, fisting his cock and stroking him gently with the other.

Groaning his delight, Connor reached behind him and found her lower lips once more. He dipped a finger in, noticing she was more slippery this time, a little moist. When his body shuddered, Angie squeezed his shaft hard and tugged his balls, the harsh sensation tipping him over the edge. His cock erupted, squirting goo over his mother's neck and chin. She stroked him lovingly through his orgasm, encouraging a large deposit of spunk from his balls, paying no attention to the sticky puddle forming on her body. A strangulated moan came from Connor's throat and he thrust a finger clumsily into his mother's hole, making her yelp with pain.

Once he was spent, Connor dismounted his mother's chest, fell sideways onto the bed. Angie sat up on the bed, watched her son's semen trickling down her body, felt it dangling from her chin, and then padded to the bathroom to clean up. When she returned, her son was tucked up in her bed fast asleep. She slipped between the sheets, naked, and snuggled up to him. A moment later, she too was asleep.

When Connor woke up, sunlight was seeping in through the gaps in the curtains, lighting the room just enough to allow him to study his mother's naked form above the sheets. He gazed at her, awestruck. He adored his mother's body. He loved studying it, touching it, caressing the swells and contours. It was like a work of art, beautiful in every way. She lay on her back, her breasts drooping slightly to the sides. The nipples were soft and a dusky pink. He reached out tentatively and stroked one with his thumb, watching fascinated as it puckered and hardened in response to his touch. He took the stiff nub of her nipple between his lips and drew it into his mouth, suckling at her teat like a baby.

The warmth radiating from her body was inviting, so he cocked a leg and rested it upon her upper thigh, the hair of her pubis tickling his knee. He rested his arm across her stomach and felt himself harden. Within minutes he was fully aroused, his erection pressing against his mother's hip, throbbing. He began to suck furiously at her teat, making slurping and sucking sounds.

Angie stirred, rubbed her eyes then reached beneath the sheets and found Connor's stiff member against her hip. She tweaked the shaft between thumb and forefinger, testing its rigidity. The scrotum was warm and thin, so she moved lower and fondled his balls for a moment, hearing him gasp in response. The head was leaking pre-ejaculate; she could feel it streaking the skin of her hip. She took a hold of him and caressed the head with her thumb, smearing the pre-cum around the sensitive rim and over the urethra. It was less than a minute before Connor groaned and she felt a rope of cum coat her skin.

Connor sighed with satisfaction before jumping out of bed, a big grin spread across his face, and headed for the bathroom for his morning shower.

Angie took a tissue from the box on her bedside table and wiped semen from her hand and body. She sighed, feeling guilty again for how she was indulging her son. But it was her only option. The consequences of leaving him unsatisfied didn't bear thinking about.

Connor's sexual impulses came on slow. They were a gradual process and Angie had learned how to spot the signs and deal with the situation before he acted upon his urges. The first sign would be a sudden fascination with pornography. Both online stories and videos, he would spend all his spare time engrossed in the sexual material. The other telltale sign would be an almost permanent erection. Even though Connor was not so big in that department, the tent at the front of his pants would be obvious and testament to his aroused state and impending sexual behaviour. Next would be his attention toward her. At first she fought it off, berated his attempts to touch her body, scolded him every time he groped her tits or snuck into her bed at night. But of course, her rejections only meant he would go to college and focus his urges on the college girls instead.

This led to Connor's arrest and a police caution. On the second occasion Connor had ended up in court. The judge was lenient, taking into account Connor's autism. Though a six-month suspended sentence, plus a referral to a counsellor, was enough to make his mother spring into action. Connor was eighteen now, officially an adult, and would be tried as one and locked up in an adult prison. Her son could not go to jail. He would not survive. He would be chewed up and spat out like a piece of meat. She dread to think what those sex-staved maniacs in prison would do to her angelic and attractive teenage son. So what was a mother to do? The only thing she could do, of course. Barring locking him in the house and never letting him out, the only feasible option would be to let him have his way with her, let him use her body to gratify his urges. So that's what Angie did.

The decision had not been made lightly. Angie had lain awake at night, trying to think of alternatives, but there were none as far as she could see. After toying with the idea of paying prostitutes to appease her son, she concluded that she could not possibly allow her son to use a sex worker and decided to take on the responsibility herself.

She knew she had to be gentle with him to begin with, play it slow and be subtle with her attempts to relieve him of his sexual urges. At first she began encouraging him to snuggle up with her on the couch. She would wear sexy underwear, rest his head in her bosom and stroke his back, tweak his nipples. His hands would wander and she allowed them to roam. She allowed him to explore her body to his heart's content. At first, he had been tentative, his hands caressing her private parts, a look of avid fascination in his eyes. Then he grew bolder, groping her body harshly, sucking and biting her nipples, sniffing her crotch, nibbling her breasts and mauling her body. Sometimes, when he lost his inhibitions, he was rough with her. But more often than not he was gentle, shy and reserved.

He loved the way her nipples puckered when he stroked them. He found her vagina captivating, spending time studying it, poking, prodding, stroking, fondling. After a few nights of that, she began touching him. It was a massage to begin with, all over, from feet to face, every inch of him, though purposely avoiding his genitals. She wanted to gauge his reaction, see how he responded to her affection before touching him sexually.

He had reacted well to her massages. His penis had tented his underpants in response to her touch, visibly twitching when her hands rubbed his feet, caressed his nipples, stimulated his erogenous zones. Though one night, after a couple of glasses of wine, her hand had not stopped at his waist or upper thighs. It had sunk into his underpants and grasped his cock. His breath had caught in his throat. She had felt his body tremble when she stretched back the foreskin to caress the head. He had ejaculated within seconds, caking her hands and his underpants with semen. He was shaking and breathing heavy, relieved and unburdened by the release, when she laid him on her bed and told him that that was called a 'special massage'. And this was their thing, theirs alone, and he was not to touch another girl again, not ever. He was to touch her from now on – just her.

The following night, she invited him to her bed and whispered loving endearments in his ear, telling him that he could touch her body whenever he felt the need. Warning him to never tell anybody as she fondled his cock and stroked him to a fierce orgasm. It was to be their secret. Nobody could know but them. Mother and son.

Then his urges receded after that. For over a week he had shown no signs of sexual excitement. Until the telltale signs began to show once more. And Angie knew her baby boy needed special attention. It had been going on for over two months now, and Connor had not laid hands on another girl since. The plan seemed to be working well, and long may it last.

She felt guilty at first, sexually gratifying her son. She had been in a bad state mentally following the trouble and began drinking wine most nights. The ramifications of her son's sexual misdemeanours had an enormous negative impact on their lives. Once word got round of Connor's arrest and court appearance, he had become subject to abuse from the locals. To begin with, it was verbal abuse on the streets; the odd name thrown Connor's way or dirty look. Then it escalated to stone throwing and bullying. When Connor arrived home one day with a bruise on his face, it was the final straw for Angie. She had upped sticks and moved two-hundred miles away, which had a devastating impact on Angie's finances. Connor had quit college and Angie had quit her job in order to move. The only work she had found since their move was part-time work; evening shifts stacking shelves in a local supermarket. It was barely enough to make ends meet and Angie was falling in to debt.

Angie cursed her son's autism as she got out of bed and slipped on her robe. Smiling, she glanced down and saw Connor's clothes strewn on the bedroom floor and remembered last night's amorous activities. She felt a shiver of arousal that shocked her. Could she really be starting to get off on what she was doing? It had been a good few years since her husband had left, and she had been starved of sex since then, so it was a possibility. And besides, Connor had all his father's features.

In appearance, Connor was your usual eighteen-year-old boy. Perhaps a little under developed, but that added to his look of innocence. Truth be told, he was a remarkably good-looking lad, and would have had his pick of the girls were it not for his social difficulties. He had urges, the same as any other teenage lad, but he was loathed to satisfy them. He was socially inept, an outcast amongst his peers, incapable of forming friendships. He had never had a friend, let alone a girlfriend. He spoke in a gawky fashion, which was mocked by some people. When Connor had realised that his speech was subject to scorn, it had knocked his confidence terribly, and left him reluctant to speak with anybody other than his mother.

Connor's autism also caused him difficulty determining between right and wrong. He could never see the consequences of his actions until it happened. For example, he never thought groping girls would have ramifications until he ended up in court, no matter how many times he was told. Angie blamed the internet more than anything for his sexual misdemeanours. God only knew what those hardcore videos did to a young man's mind, especially a fragile mind of a young man that wasn't getting any.

Angie was padding down the hallway to the stairs when the bathroom door opened. Connor was standing in the doorway completely naked, water from his shower trickling down his scrawny body. The cold air in the hallway had shrunk his genitals. His cock was now the size of a pea, nestled in amongst a sparse bush of pubic hair. His scrotum was puckered and tight, all wrinkly and drawn up close to his body. His chest had wisps of hair around the nipples. Angie felt a sense of pride at her boy's body. He was a fine eighteen-year-old lad, if not a little under developed.

And then Angie felt that familiar sliver of arousal once more, and this time she bit into her bottom lip, feeling her heart race in her chest. She ran past Connor, down the stairs and into the kitchen and put the kettle on. She sat down at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands.

Now she felt guiltier than ever. Sexually gratifying her son to keep him out of prison was one thing, but enjoying it was quite another. It was wrong. It was perverse, just awful. But she justified it by calling it a necessity, a chore, something that needed to be done. And besides, it was just foreplay, fondling and stimulation. Full penetrative sex was out the question. She would never go that far. As far as she was concerned, full sex, even oral, was unessential and therefore not something she was willing to do. Not with her own son anyway. But the nagging guilt at what she was doing weighed her down almost constantly. And the realisation that she might actually be starting to enjoy her amorous activities with Connor, would, from now on, bear a load on her mind.

Tears welled up in her eyes then her mobile phone began to ring on the kitchen table, pushing Angie's thoughts and fears aside. "Hello," she answered.

"Hello, is this Ms Lockwood?" came the reply.

"Yes, speaking. I'm Angela Lockwood."

"Sorry to bother you so early in the morning, Ms Lockwood. My name's Mr Slogan. Trevor Slogan. I'm your son's counsellor. I understand that this is an unusual request, but I was wondering if I might pop in to see you some time today. Just a quick chat. Just the two of us. Alone if at all possible."

Angie thought for a moment. It did seem an odd request, considering her son's age. Connor was now eighteen. Whatever went on between her son and his counsellor stayed between them. It was patient-doctor confidentiality. But the request had piqued Angie's curiosity. "That does seem an odd request, Mr Slogan."

"Please," he interjected. "Call me Trevor. And I promise not to take up much of your time. Ten minutes at most. I have something I wish to share with you, about your son. But I must insist we speak alone. I'd rather Connor not know we've spoken, Ms Lockwood."

Angie mulled it over. Connor was due to take the bus into town today, to see the new Batman movie at the cinema. "1pm would be good, if you can make that time."

"1pm would be smashing, Ms Lockwood. I look forward to meeting you. Connor has told me lots about you."

The hair at the back of Angie's neck stood on end when she hung up the call and thought about what Trevor had just said. 'Connor has told me lots about you'. Surely Connor hadn't revealed their secret. No, course not. She pushed that thought aside just as Connor strolled past, bag on back, ready for his day out. Connor gave his mother a long lingering kiss on the lips before he left the house. She was sure he had tried to push his tongue into her mouth, but she had relented – this time.

Angie glanced at the clock – 11:30am. She decided to spend the next hour and a half getting ready for Trevor Slogan's visit. It was an exciting prospect, having a man in her house. She had been celibate since Connor's father had left, four years ago. In fact, she had hardly even been in the presence of a man in all that time. It was for Connor's sake really. Angie was an attractive thirty-eight-year-old woman and would have no trouble finding a boyfriend. But the strain it would put on Connor would be immense. Her boy didn't cope at all well with change. And a strange man in the house would be too much for him to comprehend.