It's hard to pinpoint a particular moment when it started. I guess it wasn't long after my divorce. Over a gradual stretch of time he became more protective. Territorial, you could say. Even possessive. I'd like to be able to say I didn't see it coming, but I did and I chose not to do anything about it. I knew it was wrong. I knew I was flirting with danger. But the simple truth is that I didn't care. It made me feel good to have a strong, incredibly handsome, much younger man treat me like something special at a time when I felt anything but. The fact that the much younger man in question was my only son, Jacob, only made the sweet feelings that much sweeter.
I accepted the fact a long time ago that I'd always be looked on as pretty but never beautiful. I have fine, blonde hair that I wear straight and cut just off the shoulder since my divorce. I have blue eyes and a pleasant smile. I've also loved being athletic all my life, especially doing yoga and working out with weights. I'm not bulky, but definitely more muscular than I ever set out to be. The result is having an ass and pair of legs that look tight and shapely in whatever I feel like wearing. My tits are moderately large, but full and shapely as they ride up high and proud.
When I was younger it bothered me that so many guys liked softer girls than me, but I learned how to live with it. I wasn't like them and never would be. It was plenty for me to know the impression I could make walking through the mall in a tight skirt or yoga pants. What I didn't realize until much later was the impression I was making on my son. But I guess having a fit body and only being seventeen years older than Jacob were things I didn't think much about. That was just our reality. So when he gravitated toward dating athletic girls in high school it didn't seem out of place. I liked the girls my son dated. They were the type of girls I could relate to.
I divorced Jacob's stepfather just before he turned eighteen. He had never met his biological father, who was as young as I was when Jacob was born. He was totally uninterested in being a father. That was fine with me since my own father took good care of me through the pregnancy and for the couple of years after. Tragically, my father was taken all too soon by a sudden heart attack, leaving me with the house and my growing son. The house was paid off by then, and when I got married three years later I held on to it, renting it out for the extra income.
My husband was fifteen years older and very affluent, so the rental income on my house wasn't really necessary, but I set up two accounts at the time. One was for Jacob's education while the other was more of a rainy day fund that my ex-husband never knew about.
Jacob never bonded with his stepfather. The two of them never got past being in competition. My son was of course my first priority in everything, but as long as I kept my husband well fucked he wasn't concerned about much else. It was a marriage of convenience. Jacob and I had safety and security while my ex had a fit, young blonde wife who was willing to dress like a trophy slut at business and social functions, and take very good care of his cock whenever he asked. I excelled in my role, but as often happens with marriages with mine, my husband eventually opted for someone younger, though not as fit.
It came as no surprise. I had been Barry's second wife and was twelve years younger than his first. In the beginning, I was very taken with the fact that I had the attention of a wealthy, older man. More than once I had to wonder if maybe I had daddy issues, but I didn't dwell on it. It was exciting to challenge myself to meet his unusual sexual demands, like jerking him off under the table at restaurants. Or letting him fuck me in front of other people at parties. Then there were the blowjobs for a few of his business associates, especially when we were out of town and staying in hotels. He was always there to watch and stroke his cock.
And a few times I even agreed to threesomes with some of these other men. I'll admit I liked having two cocks at once. On his own, Barry was becoming less and less interesting, to the point where the only time I could orgasm was if we were playing with another man. As for him, he was at a point where he could only cum by jerking off while watching another man fuck me.
I never minded. I learned that while I might be a little submissive on the surface, on the inside I knew I was always in control, always physically stronger than the men I was with. I had the pussy. I was the one who was really in charge.
In the end, Barry offered a generous settlement. I took the money and ran. Jacob and I moved back into the house I inherited from my father the moment it became available.
And that was when my son started becoming much more attentive. I barely noticed the fact that he was gradually dating girls from school less and less, until after his eighteenth birthday when I realized he hadn't dated in months. By the time he graduated and summer began he was at home with his mother every night unless he was out with his male friends.
As for me, I only dated two men after my divorce. They were both supposed friends and business associates of my ex, and each was only a one date proposition. I let them both fuck me. I wanted their cocks, and they were both so eager to lay their hands on me that I realized they'd been wanting to fuck me since long before my divorce. Well, I gave them each their chance. I never regretted fucking them, but neither was what I'd call a memorable experience, except for the fact that by this time in my life I'd slept with a total of a dozen men yet had never made love with anyone.
I resigned myself to the idea that making love was merely something other women read about in preposterous novels. My dates were practically carbon copies of my ex in sexual terms. They put their hard dicks inside me and pumped away to please themselves. It felt good for as long as they were in my pussy. I've always loved the feeling of being filled with dick. But then they came, totally unaware of the fact that I never came until I fingered myself after they fell asleep.
Now eighteen, Jacob became noticeably irritable on those two, odd occasions I dated. He was sullen and quiet, and when I didn't come home until those mornings after he barely spoke to me for days. The fact that my son was seething with jealousy was the last possibility I ever imagined. He was the reason I stopped accepting offers from men, most of whom were either friends of my ex's or friends of the two I did say yes to. I kept a vibrator hidden away in a drawer in my bedroom, and that was what kept my pussy more or less satisfied, though I found myself using it more often than I ever planned to when I bought it.
It was enough to keep me from spreading my world class legs for men I didn't like very much, and the orgasms were much more reliable. And I didn't have to deal with the shame I felt the way my son looked at me after being with a man. It made me feel like I was cheating on someone, though it never occurred to me to think I was cheating on my son. Looking back, I now see that some relationships are forged long before they're physically consummated.
Even though we didn't need the money, I got my first job as a night clerk at a hotel in the center of the city where we lived. It wasn't a very complicated job. They trained me and I learned about the business until they made me the night manager. This made it possible to be around during the day for Jacob while he was still deciding what to do about college. I'd get home at around midnight, and my son was always awake and stayed with me as I wound down from my night.
At work, I had to wear a snug pencil skirt and white blouse, with a short-waisted jacket that had a name tag. Company regulations also required me to wear pantyhose and three inch heels, no more or less. Sometimes I think one of the reasons I got promoted so quickly was that I looked so good in the uniform. I wasn't above wearing the skirt a little shorter or keeping the blouse unbuttoned as far as regulations allowed, which meant I could reveal enough cleavage to draw the eyes of appreciative guests.
Even as the manager, the job required me to be on my feet for most of the night, so I was always tired and sore when I got home. Jacob was always there to keep me company on the living room couch as I would lie back and tell him about my night. It felt so nice to have such a handsome and attentive listener as I complained about difficult guests or idiotic policies being dictated by upper level management. I never doubted that he was listening, but as I'd stretch out and lay my feet in his lap I often caught the drift of his eyes over my hose-clad legs when my skirt bunched up higher on my thighs.
It made me smile to myself whenever I caught my son's eyes drifting up and down his mother's firm, shapely legs. Not only that, but I enjoyed the luxurious feeling of just being able to rest my tired feet in the lap of a handsome, young man. It was wrong, but I started letting my skirt ride higher and higher on my legs to encourage Jacob's wandering eye. It seemed harmless enough to let my son admire his mother's pretty legs. He was enjoying himself and making me feel good at the same time.
I should have stopped what I was doing the night I spotted the very sizeable bulge in my son's flannel sleep pants. But I didn't. I was shocked at first. Could he really be that aroused just from looking at my legs and having my nylon clad feet on his lap? But my physical reaction was something else entirely. Something I couldn't control. I realized it was probably the first time I was aware of being able to arouse a man who was physically stronger than I.
