Caught In The Act 109

If you want 10" cocks, women who orgasm in 10 seconds flat, simultaneous orgasms or gallons of cum then I'm sorry, but this is not the right story for you. I like to write about ordinary people with ordinary sexual appetites in slightly out of the ordinary situations. I try to keep the plot lines as near to reality as I can.

I try to keep the sex as true to my own experience as possible. I love to write about kissing, stroking, how sex feels and sex as an encounter which involves all the senses. I do like to 'get dirty' but only in the height of my character's arousal. All my stories have my own experience in them, but generally they are not autobiographical.

This story is inspired by a true story recounted to me by one of my readers, P. Thank you P, I hope you like the story.

Constructive feedback welcome. I am from UK, so UK spelling applies. Thank you for reading my story.

Note: This is a very short story. It does not result in sex. That's the way it happened in real life. The story is meant to spark fantasies rather than fulfil them. I may write more episodes but if I do, they will also be short, slow burn.

Act 1 -- sleepless night

Let me set the scene for an episode that changed my life. I'm Maddy a 'late thirties' widowed woman with an 18-year-old son. My husband died when Harry was only 6 and we have been each other's 'rock' ever since. We are close and a bit 'touchy feely' but never in a sexual way.

Have I ever had incestuous feelings? Not really, as Harry went through his teens I did 'notice' him, but the feelings were rare, and I always dismissed them. I do know that many young men 'use' their mothers as masturbation fantasies. I don't know if Harry did or not, we never discussed it. A bit boring, I know.

Our house has an open plan ground floor so that the 1st floor landing overlooks our living room.

I woke one night about 12:30am and became aware of the TV in the living room. I always try to give Harry space and 'cut him slack' so I turned over and tried to go back to sleep. After what seemed like ½ an hour, but was probably only 5 minutes, I realised it wasn't working. The tv noise was starting to irritate me. I decided I would have to ask him to turn it down.

I sighed and got out of bed. In my sleepy haze it never occurred to me to put on my dressing gown. I always slept in old t-shirts. This one was a low V-neck which revealed my braless breasts and barely covered my crotch. It never crossed my mind that if Harry looked up, he would be staring at his mum's pussy. I was focused on only two things; getting Harry to turn the tv down and then getting back to bed.

I opened my bedroom door and walked down the landing. As I approached the handrail overlooking our living room, I noticed the lights were off. The room was bathed in the light from the TV. The was some sort of action movie on with a car chase. There were lots of flashing lights so that the room was lit up brightly one moment only to be plunged into darkness the next. The sounds and the flashing lights confused me as I was still waking up, and it took me a few moments to make out Harry's outline on the sofa. By this time, I was at the banister.

I was just about to call out his name when something caught my eye. For a few seconds my head was still in a ½ asleep daze until I realised what I was looking at. Then everything went into sharp focus, and I was very awake.

My mouth was half open ready to call his name. It stayed ½ open as I 'digested' the scene. Harry was slumped on the sofa with his trousers and pants around his ankles. His t-shirt was pulled up to reveal his chest. His eyes were shut, and he was jerking a very large erection. My mouth stayed half open as that part of my brain froze. Another part of my brain sensed I should not be invading his privacy. It wanted to turn around and go back to bed. Another part of my brain was fascinated by this remarkable phallus.

I guess my primal instincts had taken control. I was stuck to the spot and my mouth was frozen open. I'm not a slut, I have seen a number of cocks in my life, but this one was different. I was fascinated by the strength and hardness of it. Quite big, but not huge, it was like a rod of steel. If you ever want to see the physical manifestation of testosterone, watch a teenager wanking!!

I was still rooted to the spot as I watched. He was moving at a medium pace which suggested he had been going for a short while but was a minute or two from frenzy. He was using long strokes which covered and then exposed his helmet. Did I mention how hard it was?

When the tv flashed I could see the muscles standing out on his forearm and sweat forming on his forehead. His eyes were still closed, and I wondered what picture was in his head as I watched his powerful arms stoke his rock-hard cock. I decided I should give him his privacy; I turned and started to walk back to my bedroom. I was smiling. Smiling at the thought of my son masturbating, a completely natural act. Smiling at the size but more importantly the hardness of his erection.

His erection filled my head. I wanted to see it again. I wanted to see him cum. On autopilot, I slowly turned and returned to the banister. Once more Harry entered my line of sight. This time I was fully focused. The light from the tv ensured I could see that his cock was shiny with male lubrication. Once again, I could see his muscular forearms flex. The feeling was so strong I could almost feel the strength in his arms and the hardness of him.

Maybe it was my imagination, but the room smelled. It smelt of cock and teenage boy, a very virile concoction. The pheromones were doing a job in my head and my pussy was responding. She was lubricating herself in anticipation and wanted to be touched. I ignored her. Ignore isn't quite right as it was impossible to ignore "touch me you bitch", I just didn't do ask she demanded. Even in my aroused state I could not bring myself to join my son in a mutual masturbation session. Although thinking back that was exactly what I should have done.

My attention was drawn back to Harry who was speeding up. He was nearing climax. I wanted to see it. I wanted to see that hard virile cock spew it's equally virile seed. I was curious to see how much. I was curious to see if he made a sound. I was transfixed by his cock and its strength.

The smell was unmistakable now and I was getting hot. A picture flashed across my head of Harry using that wonderful piece of hot metal to pump me full of fertility. Complete our relationship and make me a woman. Make me his woman. What the fuck was I thinking? I dismissed the thought helped on by the sex show below me. The wonderful sight of my beautiful son, the best thing in my life, enjoying himself sexually. About to experience the most wonderful feeling a person can feel.... An orgasm. I wanted to be a part of it. To share.

My pussy wanted more than a share, she wanted to be fucked. She could feel that cock deep in her, spewing and coating her with cream. Part of my head had also gone primeval. It wanted to be fucked by my son. Most worryingly I did not immediately dismiss the thought. It grew in my head. The sheer wrongness making it more erotic. The dirtiness of it making me want it more. I knew it was wrong and part of me wanted to clear my head of these alien thoughts, but I lost the battle.

I wanted to have the fantasy in my head. I wanted it to fill my head and take over every brain cell. I wanted to smell him. I wanted to fuck him. I wanted his hips to thrust into me; our pubic bones clashing with the violence of rampant sex. I wanted to kiss him like a mother should never kiss her son. Feel his lips on mine and his tongue in me. I know that if he had been on that landing with me, naked, I would have rutted him like an animal. I was a bitch on heat, wanting to be made pregnant.

His body glistened with a thin sheen of sweat as he picked up the pace. His hand was a blur as he literally bashed his meat. IN my head he was cuming just for me and my mind drifted again to the feeling of him inside me. I wanted sex.

His hips were starting to twitch as he neared completion. I think I heard a moan above the sound of the tv. Then he paused his hands for a split second and pushed his hips up. A rope of cum flew out. I could see the 1st line was across his shoulder and on the sofa. I smiled wondering how he was going to clean that up (don't laugh... I'm a mum). My attention was immediately drawn back to his cock as he erupted again and again. His hand was moving at a less than blur pace, in time with his ejaculations.

His eyes were still closed as he slowly came back down to earth. He continued to massage his cock which although not hard was surprisingly firm. His tummy and chest were splatted with his extasy. Millions of sperm trying to find an egg. He was spent.

Reality bit me and my mind quickly drifted from "copulate with me" to "I need to move". As I turned to go back to my bedroom, I saw his head turn up and towards me. I doubt he saw me, but he may have caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. Strangely that did not horrify me, why should it? Masturbating is perfectly natural. OK, so tradition says that mums shouldn't necessarily watch, but we all know it happens, don't we? I resolved to give him time to get dressed and clean himself up but not enough time to clean up the sofa. I wanted to embarrass him so that maybe he would be a bit more careful next time.

I also needed time to take care of my pussy, she was still screaming for penetration and my favourite vibrator was beckoning.