Isn't it funny how one little incident can change your life forever? Sometimes you don't recognize it, and you just go on about your busy life without noticing that your universe has been knocked out of its orbit. When I found the hoard of pornography hidden behind my son, Brad's desk, I was surprised only because I wasn't expecting to find it. A little part of me was disappointed in him of course but I quickly got over that. He's 18, I told myself, and I'm not so naïve that I don't know that young men looked at porn. It was just the nature of the pornography that really threw me. All the magazines contained only stories about incest!
I've been divorced from Brad's father for four years and they have not been the easiest of times for the two of us. I have absolutely no contact with anyone on my Ex-husbands side of the family and my parents were divorced when I was five. My mother died years ago and I haven't seen my father since I was 14. I was told he had remarried and lived on the west coast. Brad of course has never even met his grandfather so he has missed the support that an extended family could bring when times were tough. My fears that Brad would not cope well with our divorce pretty much came true. He was acting up and acted out for years before our divorce was finalized and it didn't get any better after his father and I separated. He was constantly getting into trouble at school. If it wasn't drinking, it was drugs or girls or other mischief.
We had both been to counseling and that helped. Over the last half year or so, since Brad graduated from high school this past June, I had seen my son gradually change from an angry young boy to the well-behaved and responsible young man that any mother would be proud of. Despite his problems at school, he had graduated, but just barley and had been forced to take summer courses to get his grades up so he could at least apply to the local community college this fall. When I saw how hard he worked at his summer school classes I figured our life together had changed for the best. Finding his stash of these disturbing incest magazines brought those good feelings to a screeching halt.
During counseling, we had both learned how to effectively communicate with each other without yelling or judging each other. I struggled to remember those skills as I looked at what I had found in his room. I thought maybe I had become too much of a friend and not enough of a mother to him. I worried I had failed him in some way; why else would he have this type of porn? What was going through his head, I wondered, when it came to his obvious interest in incest. I might have accepted mainstream porn, men's magazines with pictures of women and such and accepted that as a fact of life that all boys enjoy looking at naked women. I don't approve of that but I wouldn't have been so surprised or confused by his choice of pornography.
What drew my son to incest, I wondered. I'm no prude. I have my own brand of erotica that I enjoy reading. I read summer love novels and fantasize about the male hunks that all women love to dream about. At 43, I consider myself to have a normal and healthy appreciation for sex and considerer masturbation normal and healthy. I've dated little since my divorce and when I have, I've chosen my partners carefully. I put raising my son above my own needs. Now I was worried that I had failed him in some way.
I knew I needed to talk to him about what I found. Doing nothing or worse, condemning him for his interest in incest would only pull us apart again. I was determined to use the tools I had learned in counseling. I was going to sit him down and talk to him about it. I left all but one of his incest magazines on top of his desk. The other one I took with me to the kitchen and sat down and looked through it to see if I could understand his fascination with this subject. There were very few pictures and only a few dirty cartoons scattered thought out the magazine. The bulk of the magazine consisted of stories about families having sex together. As I thumbed through the pages I thought about what incest was; having sex with a family member. It had such a dirty and forbidden connotation in our society, and certainly nothing my son had ever been exposed to. I had kissed a few male cousins, had adolescent crushes that really seemed to be more fun than incest.
The magazine was divided up into different sections, each one involving family sex. There were chapters on siblings having sex together, aunts and uncles with nephews and niece's, cousins, grandparents (that was really weird), whole families and parents fucking sons and daughters. I had no idea if my son was more interested in one group of stories over another, except for one dog-eared page in the parent/children's section. This section told about son's having sex with their mother's, and daughters having sex with their fathers, and seemed to have been read been more thoroughly than the others. It made me wonder if my son had thoughts about having sex with me. I couldn't recall one instance of inappropriate behavior on his part towards me but I knew I would have to reexamine our home life.
I was determined to find out what the fascination was for my son about incest so I read all six stories in the chapter about parents having sex with their children. Sometimes the children were quite young but most of the time they were teenagers. They weren't very well written but I had to admit they were stimulating. Rough and coarse words such as cunt, fuck, pussy, tits, cock and dick seemed to be favorite ways to describe male and female body parts and love making. Even so, I found myself more than a little flushed and excited by the time I had finished the last story. I continued to read more from the other chapters. Other than the stories about whole families having sex together, I wasn't particularly interested in reading more. I tried to imagine Brad reading about a mother and son having sex and getting turned on by that. I wondered again if he thought about me that way or was it just harmless fantasy. It made me a little uncomfortable because I felt I should feel disgusted by such an idea... but disturbingly I wasn't.
It was still almost an hour before Brad was due home so I got another magazine from his collection and read that one too. I like getting turned on, what woman doesn't? But I surprised myself by
how
turned on I got as I read. With more than a fair amount of guilt, I unzipped my slacks and slipped my hand over my panties and masturbated as I read. I wasn't reading with my son in mind, it's just that the stories were beginning to excite me in their own dirty little way. I justified these feelings and my masturbating as normal carnal desires. I was definitely enjoying myself by the time I finished the second book. I had started out just rubbing my pussy over my underwear but by the end of the second book, my slacks and my panties were down around my ankles. I was enjoying myself as I lightly touched my clit and fingering myself as I read about a father and daughter fucking. The son and mother eventually became involved and the story ended with the parent's having sex with both children. I had one fantastic orgasm and was working on a second one when I heard Brad at the front door.
"Hi mom, I've got the mail," I heard my son call out as he came in.
"I'm in the kitchen honey," I told him as I quickly withdrew my hand from my pussy and scrambled to pull my slacks up. I just barely made it. I slipped the magazine onto the chair beside me. I knew my face was probably flushed from masturbating and I consciously tried to get my heart to slow down before Brad saw me. "Would you come in here honey?" I didn't want him going to his room and seeing his collection of magazines on his desk until I had talked to him.
"Hi mom," my son greeted me with a kiss on the cheek before he threw the mail onto the table; he didn't seem to notice how agitated I was. "Looks like that one's from dad's attorney," he said, pointing to a letter. He didn't try to hide the contempt in his voice. "Probably wants more money," He commented sarcastically.
I subtly checked my zipper and the buttons on my blouse to make sure everything was in place. "Honey, I thought we agreed you wouldn't talk that way about your father. He loves you and my problems with him have nothing to do with you." I reminded him, careful not to feed his anger for his father. "Your dad loves you very much," I said by rote. It had been almost six months since his father had even called.
"He's a jerk mom and you know it. Go ahead and open it. I bet I'm right. He wants more money from you." He said as he went to the refrigerator and got himself a soda.
"Shit," I said under my breath as I read the letter. Brad was right; it was from my ex's attorney. In lawyer speak, it was always addressed to me by my full name, Mrs. Angela Hunt and it went on to say that my ex-husband was requesting a hearing so he could get more money from me. I still kick myself for not having the prenuptial agreement my lawyer suggested before I married. I was the one with the successful business and my ex was trying to bleed me dry. I hated it as much as Brad did but I promised Brad's father that I wouldn't badmouth him in front of his son.
"Was I right? Dad wants more money for his cheap girlfriends, doesn't he? He's such a looser mom." Brad said as he slumped in the chair across from me. "Don't give him another dime." Brad was wearing silk jogging shorts and a well-worn t-shirt. His muscular arms and chest heaved as he stewed about his father.
He was right but he and I had other things to talk about. "Honey, we have more important things to talk about than your dad." I put the letter back in the envelope and worked up the courage to talk about his incest magazines.
