I want to tell you about my son Donny. I guess I brought the whole thing on myself, but I don't regret what I did. Especially after what I found out. In truth, it's kinda funny.
I was downstairs in the laundry room, out back, washing clothes. Our weekly wash. I heard the front door open and that little bitch Cindy creep in. I craned my neck to see her, but she scampered up the stairs before I could get a glimpse. She went straight up to Donny's bedroom without so much as a 'Good Morning', as usual. My son deserves better than her, but of course I can't say so. I looked out the window at the yard. It was sunny and very windy, our scrubby dogwoods bending and shaking in the gusts. The old house was full of creaks and groans, like it was alive.
I folded Donny's clean shorts, T-shirts and pants. I put them in a neat pile ready to take up to his bedroom. I wondered what was going on up there. Hell, I knew what was going on up there. He's always been a wild one. Don't think I don't have feelings, too. Not always feelings a mother should have, either. Yeah, sometimes looking at him in the yard, playing with his pals or his stupid little girlfriends I rub myself. I'm just glad he's of age now and finished high school. I don't have to worry about the police anymore now he's settled in a job. At least not so much.
I poked around in another heap of his dirty clothes, skidmarks aplenty. But there were others, not so nasty. A pair of boxers I bought him last year. Crusty yellowish stains on the front. I picked them up and held them to my face. You have to know what you're washing off if you're going to do it right. My son's stale dried cum, in this case. I inhaled deeply, visualizing his sweet stiff cock that I caught a glimpse of just the previous week when I peeked in the bathroom as he took a shower. Jacking off as usual. Boy, what a treat to see. He has a great cock, I'm proud to say. My pussy dripped like a watering can after that. I had to change my underwear.
Anyway, so what... now I was stuck doing the laundry -- again -- while that little tramp got to play the daylight hooker with him, no doubt adding her slimy contribution to my son's underwear. I heard a thump from upstairs. What was going on up there? I needed to check. I walked softly out to the foot of the stairs and listened. Nothing. I mounted the stairs, avoiding the creaky steps - as my son had never learned to do - and listened again. Halfway up the stairs I could hear voices, one high, both faint and indistinct because of the wind outside but discernible. I stopped again to listen.
"Mom's downstairs. Be quiet."
"Who cares about that old bag? Come on, give me your cock again. It's so fat and long."
Old bag? Really? This charming exchange was followed by silence, then a very loud groan that sounded like Donny.
"Ha! Told you. Let me go clean up. I'm covered in your cum. I'm going to take a shower and wash my hair. If your mom asks why, we just played racketball, OK?"
"You can't leave me like this. What if she comes upstairs?"
"I saw her. She's busy doing the laundry. Don't be such a pussy. I'll latch the door."
A door closed, clicked, then I could hear the heavy little cow padding along to the bathroom. My bathroom with my stuff in it. She better not touch anything. Well, except maybe the hairdryer.
Leave me like this? What did that mean? I needed to check on my son. I didn't trust the little bitch. I heard the shower start. I had time. I crept up to my darling boy's bedroom door and ever so quietly turned the doorknob. I knew how to slip the latch from outside. I opened the door six inches and peeked in, ready with all sorts of smartass responses if I was caught. But it is my house, after all.
I know my son. I'm hard to shock. I love him, but that doesn't mean I'm foolish about him. He can be a little prick. And washing his crusty underpants over the years I've little doubt about his disgusting boy habits. But even I was surprised by what I saw.
My son was lying on his back, spread-eagled on the bed. He was wearing a Lynrd Skynrd T-shirt but nuthin else. Naked below the waist. Oh, wait, he still had his socks on. His wrists and ankles were attached to the bedframe by pantyhose she'd wound around the four corners. He was tied up good. He couldn't move much. She'd blindfolded him, too - a towel sweatband over his eyes, and his own white jockeys pulled over his head for good measure. But he was lying there quite serene. Not in distress.
The wind rattled against the window. He hadn't heard me.
My son is an athlete, track and field, and still competes even now he's a fireman for the Local 237. He's young and very fit. Every muscle in his body is defined; pecs, washboard abs, all the rest. I think he looks like a young Ben Affleck. I like to look at my son. I never get tired of it, like most moms I guess. But I'd never seen him like this before, even though I'd seen him jerking off over the years as I spied on him through keyholes and doors ajar. My heart started to go pitter patter. I was getting wet down there in my pants. Tingly.
I moved through the doorway, stepping silently on the carpet. Time seemed to expand; what only took a second or two floated out into eternity as I gazed upon his body stretched out before me. His muscular form was relaxed and my eyes were immediately drawn to his magnificent cock, now lying to the left side, semi-erect, its work obviously concluded. A pool of semen coated his lower belly, filling his belly button, wetting the bottom of his T-shirt and dripping down onto the coverlet which I would now have to dry-clean. I've never seen so much. That little cow had certainly drained him. I looked down at him with all sorts of ideas running through my head. The wind shrieked outside as the rays shone on the bed, and on him, lighting up his sun-dappled wet balls and dripping cock with dancing spotlights.
It had been a while for me. With a man, I mean, not some damn sex toy. I felt a twinge in my pants as an uncontrollable rush of desire chased any good sense from my brain. His cum. I could smell it. Not a nice smell. But a primeval one that flipped some deep switch within me. Every mother wants her son to fuck her. Whether she admits it or not.
You know that, ladies. Don't you?
I looked up and saw myself in my son's dressing mirror. I stood poised above him as he lay on his bed in repose. What did I see? A forty-something mom in a short denim skirt and a white tank top. No bra. Passable face, brunette (with chemical help). Not a bad figure. A bit wobbly, but not bad. Cheap haircut, messed up. I'd been doing the laundry five minutes before. I get bored with it and sometimes I take a couple of shots of Wild Turkey, just to make the time pass more quickly. I had today. Maybe I was a little 'impaired'.
Without thinking about it, I crossed the threshold into 'do-not-do' land. The mirror made me do it. It was so erotic to watch myself as I knelt by his bed. I reached out and took my son's sloppy half-hard cock in my hand. He started a little as I did so, like he'd been dozing. With one hand grasping his cock, I scooped up a dollop of cum from his belly with my other and lifted it to my face and sniffed it. Yup, that was cum alright. I don't like cum much, at least not to eat. But I was curious. My son's cum might be different, so I licked my fingers. It didn't taste different to any other man's but it was Donny cum, and that made all the difference to me. All of a sudden, he spoke. I thought he was asleep. I got a big shock.
"Didn't hear you come in. No shower? Well, I'm glad you came back. I'm kinda sticky. Can you clean me up? How about untying me? Take the blindfold off."
I knew I couldn't speak. My voice was nothing like Cindy's, even with the outside wind howling. I had to do something, or leave. I leaned down over him and started to clean him. I scooped up his cum in my hand. I really didn't want throw it away ...so...I shoved it up my top and smeared it over my chest. Over my breasts. A little down my pants. What a thrill! Then I continued the job with my mouth. Lick, lick, lick. Swallow, swallow, swallow.
"Oh, so you want to play a bit more you bitch? OK."
He moaned as I cleaned up his belly and balls with my tongue. He tasted good to me because he is my son, but there was so much cum it took a while. I was just about coated in his cum under my clothes by now. When I was more or less done he spoke again, wriggling his ass with his spread-eagled legs.
