Caught Wet Handed

Caught Wet Handed

Dear Auntie Amy,

I recently discovered my husband of 16 years in bed with his 23 year old secretary. I suspected something was up for months, so I hired a private investigator. He showed me multiple photos of them checking into hotels during lunch breaks.

When I confronted him, he lied and said it was a once-off. Now I just feel so betrayed. I told him to move out and he didn't object. I think he even moved in with her. My heart is completely broken. Now I drink during the day and cry whenever I think about him. I want to call his company and tell them what has been going on.

I honestly thought he was my soulmate... What should I do?

L

Too easy.

My fingers moved on autopilot, writing at least the hundredth iteration of basically the same message.

Dear L,

First of all, I am so, so sorry you went through that. You deserve FAR better...

Blah blah blah.

When I started writing agony aunt responses for WifeAndMom.com, it was purely a paycheck. It seemed my naive dream of writing the great American novel had a very tangible (and very reasonable) price. My editor suggested that my Japanese name would probably be 'less relatable'. With that, Asami Taylor became "Auntie Amy"!

You don't get a Master's degree in English Lit and fantasize about consoling divorcees or suggesting fellatio technique (...thank God for pseudonyms!). As I continued to write, however, I came to believe that I was helping these women deal with and overcome their difficult situations.

I'd be lying if I said my ego didn't mushroom somewhat for a period of time.

Luckily a few follow-up emails informing me how my advice had fucked up some of the readers' lives even worse brought me back down to Earth.

One woman told me that my advice to try a threesome had led to her boyfriend leaving her for the other woman... who became pregnant within weeks. The new couple had even become born-again Christians.

That one still makes me shudder.

Since then I swore simply to 'do no harm'. To be non-directing but comforting, understanding but realistic, empathetic but empowering. I don't want to create legions of embittered women or capitalize on misery if I can help it.

So I hammered out a safe, boilerplate response to L... in roughly 5 minutes.

Just as I was about to click Save, my laptop beeped loudly and my screen went black.

Oh shiiiiit!

The hum of the laptop slowly faded and died.

Noooooooo!

... You motherfucker!

I tried pressing the power button but to no avail. I pressed it again. Still nothing.

Sadly, that was the extent of my IT expertise.

What the hell was I going to do? I needed to submit my work by noon tomorrow or I wouldn't get paid.

Hmmmm...

Ahhhh!

Ryan!

"RYAN!?!" I yelled upstairs.

"WHAT!?!" my son yelled back.

"CAN I BORROW YOUR MACBOOK? MINE DIED!"

"UHHHH.... GIMME... A... MINUTE!"

I chuckled to myself.

Probably closing Pornhub as we spoke.

After a couple of minutes, my tall, handsome 18-year-old son came downstairs, laptop and cable underarm.

"Here ya go Mom," he said, his brown eyes half-hidden behind his messy black curls. Luckily he had gotten his father's wavy hair. At 6'1, my son was a handsome young man. He had a chiseled jaw, and a slim build, ideal for his rocker fashion sense.

I had met Aaron, Ryan's father, in college. Despite warnings from my conservative Japanese family about marrying a white man, we had tied the knot at 22... and untied it by 28. I really hated proving my parents right.

"Thanks, sweetie, you're a lifesaver!" I kissed him on the cheek. He blushed and turned back upstairs, his long legs taking them two at a time. After a minute, I heard him practicing riffs on his electric guitar. I sat at the kitchen table, opened the laptop, and resumed my work.

An hour later, I had submitted 6 pieces. I needed one more to fill my weekly quota.

As I perused the website's inbox, I kept an eye out for kinky subject lines. I liked to spice up the content with at least one unusual or salacious topic.

My daughter dumped her boyfriend of 5 years and has started dating an older woman.

Hmmm.

Not bad... but I had one lesbian piece already this week.

I continued scanning.

I can only climax when I'm being humiliated.

I heard my editor's voice in my head. "Too extreme for the average WifeAndMom..."

I kept looking.

One in particular seemed to catch my attention.

I found my son's porn folder. Now I can't look him in the eye.

... Hmmmm!

Hello.

Certainly, a topic I hadn't covered before... and with just the right amount of deniability for readers. They could pretend they were shocked or outraged, while secretly loving the sordid details.

I clicked into the mail.

Hi Auntie Amy,

I recently found videos on my son's laptop of stepfamily porn... including a lot of stepmother and stepson content. I don't know why he would like that as he is the only son of me and my husband (who are happily married). What really turns my stomach is that some of the women in the videos slightly resemble me! Ever since I found them, I can barely look at him or even have a conversation. Could it just be a phase? I'm starting to wonder whether he is mentally disturbed. I don't know what to do.

Please help!

Mom in need

Shit!... that's a toughie.

I liked it.

It was the kind of piece that could go viral.

I sat back, closed my eyes, and allowed my mind to wander. Usually, I found it best to imagine myself in their shoes.

So... what would I do if Ryan liked that kind of stuff?

Jesus.

I mean... for all I knew, he could. The thought was not a pleasant one.

My fingers caressed the keyboard as they awaited inspiration.

How could I properly answer a real plea for help if I couldn't imagine myself in that situation?

Self-doubt crept in as I began to hit keys.

Dear Katy,

Thank you for your mail...

Then... nothing. My mind was blank.

... Shit.

I looked at the clock. It was almost midnight.

Hmmm.

Sometimes sleep helped me come up with more creative solutions to tricky letters.

I sighed softly.

Fuck it.

I'd try again. first thing in the morning.

I closed the laptop and went to bed.

________________________________

As I tried to go to sleep, I tossed and turned for some time. Mindless darkness eluded me. I couldn't seem to shake the last letter from my mind.

It wasn't just the real plight that the writer was going through...

... it was also the realization that any mother could be in the same position.

I didn't have a particularly moralistic view of sex. I believe that consenting adults should be allowed to do whatever they choose... generally.

I had to admit though, that stance was challenged when I thought of incestuous relationships. There was just something gross about family members crossing that line. Couldn't they just get laid elsewhere?

I looked at my alarm clock.

2:48.

Fuck!

What was I going to do? I needed to sleep.

Another light caught my eye.

A blinking light on the bedside table. Ryan's laptop.

... Ryan's laptop!

Maybe... if I checked to see what he was viewing online, I'd be better able to relate to 'Mom in need'?

It felt like a breach of trust...

Was this a good idea? I was too tired to be sure.

What if I found myself in the same position, too ashamed or disgusted to meet my son's gaze?

Hmmm... Fuck it.

I had to know.

I opened his MacBook, clicked into a new browser, and found the History section. Football sites, websites for learning guitar songs, Ticketmaster, Facebook, Tiktok, and Amazon. Nothing of note.

Hmmmm... Did he delete his history?

Probably not, I reasoned. Not if those other websites were still there.

I minimized the tab and idly scanned the folders on his desktop.

Maybe he preferred to save his porn?

One folder was called 'Study Notes'. Despite being pretty tired, I had to smile at that. Though he had a good heart and a strong work ethic, Ryan wasn't exactly the most academic kid in the world.

My bullshit sense was tingling. I clicked into the folder.

A list of dozens of video files appeared. They weren't named, just timestamped. I opened the first.

Immediately a video opened of a naked young blonde girl on her knees in front of a guy, stroking his giant cock. The room behind her was quite dark, and the guy appeared to be holding the camera as she pleasured him. She looked up at the lens and winked, before sliding her tongue out to lick his dick. The video ended and began to replay automatically.

Hmmm... not bad. She was pretty cute.

Maybe he's just into amateurs?

I opened the next file. It was a similar shot, though with a young Asian girl. This time, however, she was sucking a massive tool eagerly, trying to take it as far down her throat as she could before gagging. The guy holding the camera moaned, his free hand reaching out to grab the girl by the hair. I quickly turned down the volume just in case Ryan was still awake.

The girl deepthroated the guy's cock, her eyes watering before she had to release it.

Damn...

... lucky bitch.

I began to feel relieved that my son's taste in porn was fairly "normal".

The next video was a little more intense, as the guy fucked the same Asian girl from behind, her cute little ass pushing back against his long thrusts. Again he gripped her by the hair, though this time he tugged sharply, and she let out a squeal.

Mmmmmm...

... Was it weird I was getting turned on by my son's porn?

The video was almost a minute long and finished when the guy buried his dick to the hilt in her pussy, filling her with his cum.

I slid a hand under the covers, into my pajama bottoms, and began to tease my clit as the video replayed. Over and over, I watched the guy bang the little Asian hottie, her cries of pleasure and his grunts eventually providing a long overdue and intense orgasm. It had been a long time since a man had fucked me like that... Too long.

I came quietly, stifling my moans with a hand clasped over my mouth.

As I slowly regained myself, I took a tissue from the bedside table and wiped my juices from my fingers.

When I went to close the video file, I noticed something bright in the background that I hadn't seen before.

An electric guitar hung from the wall.

Cherry red.

A flying V.

Epiphone.

... The same one I bought 3 Christmases ago.

... The same one that hung on my son's bedroom wall.

Oh no...

________________________________

I woke the next morning feeling oddly refreshed and light.

By the time my feet hit the floor, however, the memory of last night's events had resurfaced in my consciousness. I felt absolutely sickened by myself.

I had climaxed to a video of my son fucking some girl.

Sure, it was an honest mistake...

Sure, it was a victimless crime, that no one need ever know about...

Sure, it was in the pursuit of helping a struggling mother...

... but still.

I had cum (hard) watching my own sweet son's... big dick... stretch a girl's pussy.

Some things couldn't be undone.

With a sigh, I donned my bathrobe and padded down the hallway to the bathroom. I showered, the water almost scalding hot as I tried in vain to wash away any trace of my sin.

As I washed my body, my nipples felt hard and my clit tingled guiltily.

Returning to my bedroom, Ryan passed me. He was already dressed for school. My face burned with shame as he kissed me good morning on the cheek. I couldn't look at him in the eye. Despite myself, the image of his cock sprang unbidden in my mind.

After he left, I sat down once more at the kitchen table to work.

When I tried to return to the mail from 'Mom in need', I just couldn't do it. I felt too conflicted, too confused, by what had happened.

Instead, I picked the safer "

Is it wrong to sleep with my landlord to pay the rent?"

option.

An hour later, I submitted all of the completed pieces to my editor and closed the laptop. I busied myself with whatever chore I could think of, desperately seeking to focus on anything other than the mental image of my son's perfectly formed dick.

________________________________

For the next two weeks, I continued to write using Ryan's laptop. I didn't open his Study Notes folder again.

Every time I saw it, however, I admit I felt a little thrill just knowing what was inside.

And, unless I'm mistaken, the guilt I felt seemed to diminish slightly every day.

We interacted as normal. I made his dinner, washed his clothes, and drove him to and from various places. We chatted and joked around as we usually did. He made me pancakes on Mother's Day.

From his perspective, nothing had changed.

But something had changed for me... Something significant.

Or maybe it was that something WAS changing?

Thoughts of Ryan dominating the girls in his videos first forced their way into my dreams... then my waking moments. The young man who grabbed girls by their hair was not the gentle, sensitive youth I thought he was.

I remembered how many files there were in his folder. Dozens. Maybe a hundred. Christ... were they all of him?

I had never pried into his love life, always respecting his privacy. To be honest, I wasn't even sure he HAD a love life... until now. I wondered how many women had he slept with already. To my surprise, I realized that he had become a sexually proficient man, right under my nose.

A handsome, tall, dominant man... endowed with a cock that would make most girls drool... from both ends.

After one evening's work, I went to bed early.

As I lay there, turning over again and again, my mind seemed set on staying awake.

The blink of my son's computer seemed to tease me. Every couple of seconds it called out softly, "I'm here... anytime you want..."

In the darkness, I gritted my teeth, before sighing deeply.

... Fuck it!

I reached for the MacBook and within seconds I had opened my son's private folder.

I exhaled deeply as I saw the sheer number of files once more. God... I had been looking forward to this!

Double-clicking on one, a video popped up. It was him!... naked, facing the lens, sitting at a desk in someone's bedroom.

My heart fluttered. My nipples felt hard.

This time, the camera was propped up, pointing at him. For the first time, I admired his toned abs and defined pecs. As my eyes fell to look at his crotch (expecting to see his glorious cock), I saw the blonde hair of a girl there, her head bobbing up and down as she blew my boy.

Oh yesssss!...

I bit my lip, my hand instinctively sliding into my panties. Already wet, I eagerly began to touch myself.

Lucky little bitch!

What I wouldn't give to please a cock like that...

... A cock like that? Or that cock?

My pussy was drooling as I circled my clit.

Oh God!... It felt wrong... but also... sooo hot!

I kicked off the covers and set the screen aside so that I could use both hands as I watched. I played with my breast as I stared at the video, occasionally flicking and twisting my nipple.

Mmmmmm...

The blonde in the video leaned back while my son jerked off all over her face.

Holy shit!

KNOCK, KNOCK!

... Oh fuck!

The door started to open before I could pull my hand out of my underwear.

I heard Ryan's voice before I saw him.

"Mom, can I get my MacB-," he began... but froze in place when he saw what I was doing.

"Uhhh! Sure thing!" I blurted out, almost as if my son hadn't just caught me with my hand buried in my panties.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Suddenly he turned away, his cheeks flushing deep red.

"That's ok! I'll get it whenever you're... finished!" he said before quickly closing the door.

Ohhhhh... FUUUUUUCK!!!

After he left, I violently threw my head back onto my pillow, cursing my stupidity.

I'm such an IDIOT!!! Why hadn't I locked the door!?!

Stupid, stupid, stupid!!!

I exhaled loudly, closed his laptop, and returned it to his bedroom. Fortunately, he wasn't there, so I left it on his desk. I heard the shower running as I went back to my room and thanked the Lord for small miracles.

I prayed that neither one of us would ever mention it.

After having been caught in the act, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I kept replaying the moment when Ryan had walked into my room. I felt so vulnerable and exposed as he looked down on me, one hand in my panties and the other cupping my tit.

I felt sickened. Ashamed.

But still... I felt that desire.

Dangerous and powerful.

My urge had not been satisfied.

I couldn't change what had happened... so where was the harm in finishing what I started?

Fuck it... and fuck it again.

Guiltily, I allowed my hand to find my clit once more. As I touched myself, I imagined my head where the blonde had been. My tongue on that magnificent cock.

A thought occurred to me.

What if Ryan hadn't left after he caught me?

What if he just stood there?... What if I didn't stop?

What if... he watched?

Oh God!

I came once more, my palm clasped over my mouth as I bucked and thrashed on my bed. My groans were muted, but the bed creaked loudly as I shifted.

As I returned from the bathroom a little while later, I could have sworn I heard a rhythmic thud coming from my son's room.

________________________________

Thankfully Ryan didn't mention the events of the prior night, and I certainly wasn't going to address the elephant in the kitchen. Instead, I cooked him a hearty breakfast before he went to school.

When he kissed me goodbye on the cheek, he seemed to hesitate.

He grabbed his travel mug on the way out. He had recently started drinking coffee and I smiled ruefully to myself as I felt another milestone of sorts pass me by.

Things seemed to return to relative normality after that. Sure, I could still recall the videos I had seen of my son and the lucky girls that he had fucked, but I tried to put those thoughts aside.

Later that week I purchased a new laptop. It was cheap but could easily manage what I needed from it.

One Friday evening, Ryan left for band practice in his friend Eric's garage. I sat at the dinner table as usual and began to work on my Auntie Amy column. I was three responses in. A warning appeared indicating my battery was almost dead. When I looked for the charger, I couldn't see it anywhere.

Shit! I only bought the damn thing and it's already missing?

I searched the living room, kitchen, and my bedroom once more. I even checked Ryan's room in case he had picked it up by mistake. No luck.

Where could it be?

I unlocked my phone and texted my son.

HEY, DID YOU SEE MY LAPTOP CHARGER?

My phone buzzed a few seconds later.

OH SORRY MOM, I MUST HAVE PICKED IT UP INSTEAD OF MY MIXING DESK LEAD. WILL BRING IT HOME LATER

I sighed in frustration.

I NEED IT FOR WORK. CAN YOU BRING IT HOME NOW?

WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A SESSION. WHY DON'T YOU USE MINE FOR NOW?

I admit I was a little taken aback by the suggestion after... what had happened. I hadn't thought about using my son's laptop since I had bought my own. Now, I found myself with a valid reason to use it... and a couple of hours alone.

Temptation seemed to whisper in my ear.

I wrote back a final message.

OK. THANKS, SWEETIE. SEE YOU LATER

I vaguely noticed a warmth between my legs.

My hands trembled as I picked up the MacBook in Ryan's room. I walked back towards the kitchen... but instead found myself turning into my bedroom.

Feeling nervous, I placed the laptop on my bed and opened it. I sat cross-legged on the covers in front of it, my mouth dry.

God... I was going to see Ryan in action again.