Caught

Chapter 02 -- Caught

When I got home, I was in a rush to get inside. My soaked panties were starting to feel uncomfortable, and I couldn't wait to peel them off. I fumbled in my purse for a bit before finding my keys, unlocked the front door, and called out in a loud voice, "DOMINIC, I'm here!" Of course, I didn't expect an answer--he'd texted me that he was heading to his friend's place. I just wanted to make sure I was alone. There were no sounds from upstairs or anything, but I still needed to be certain. Since the ground floor only had the hallway with the basement door, the living room with a dining area, and the kitchen, I headed up to the second floor where my bedroom, Junior's room, a bathroom with a toilet, and my home office were.

A quick peek into Junior's room confirmed he'd cleaned up his tracks. The room was tidy, everything quiet except for the faint hum of his computer. I stepped inside, wanting to check the usual suspect spots to see if my bikini was still around. Naturally, I couldn't help but picture what had gone down here less than two hours ago. My mind went straight to the bikini he'd used for his little escapade. After coming up empty, I shut his door and headed to my bedroom. I'd already laid out some of my vacation clothes on a dresser there. Right on top was the bikini set--the one Dominic had played with. He'd folded it neatly, just like the other sets. Curiosity got the better of me, so I picked up the black set from the pile.

At first glance, there were no obvious traces, but I could feel the bikini top was damp. So, he'd tried to clean up his mess. At least he has decency like this, I thought, though I couldn't help picturing him shooting his load all over the pretty fabric. Almost instinctively, I lifted one of the cups to my nose and took a deep breath. The faint scent of sex lingered on it. The bikini bottom--the one he'd used to jerk off--was dry but carried a much stronger whiff of his lust. Guess he's not as slick as he thinks, I noted to myself with a mischievous grin.

I could feel the thought of what had happened earlier stirring me up again. "Take a hot shower first and get these thoughts out of your head," I scolded myself. It couldn't possibly be right that my own son was turning me on this much just because he'd used my lingerie to get off and saw me as his jerk-off fantasy. I set the bikini on the bed, grabbed my leggings and shirt, turned around, and headed to the bathroom. Once there, I flipped on the light and started the shower. As the water warmed up, I unbuttoned my blouse one button at a time and slipped it off. Then I reached behind me with practiced ease, unhooked my bra, slid the straps off my shoulders, and let it fall away.

I glanced down at my full but slightly sagging breasts and thought, Well, you two are really messing with Junior. At that thought, my nipples started to stiffen, slowly standing up. I was getting turned on again. I quickly unzipped my jeans and tugged them off along with my panties. Before tossing the panties into the hamper, I brought them to my nose and inhaled deeply. Like a flash of lightning, scenes from earlier in my boss's office raced through my mind. As I breathed in, I slid my other hand between my legs, letting a finger glide slowly through my lips.

I wanted nothing more than to get myself off right there, but the warm water was too tempting. So, I threw the soaked panties in the hamper and stepped into the shower. I let the warm water cascade over my head for a moment, savoring the comforting heat. My hands moved to the tops of my breasts, lifting them slightly before sliding toward my nipples. With my thumbs and index fingers, I started tweaking my hardening nipples. I grabbed the showerhead with one hand, pulling it from its holder, and guided it slowly down from my neck. The hard jets made my nipples rock-hard as I aimed it at my breasts.

Then I guided the showerhead slowly down from my breasts to my stomach. As the first stray jets hit my mound, I instinctively spread my legs a bit. The stream moved lower, reaching my clit a split second later. With one hand, I parted my lips slightly, while the other held the showerhead so the water hit my pleasure spot directly. I couldn't help but let out a loud moan. Thank God I was alone and could let my desire run free. Just as I started circling my clit with my finger, I heard my phone ringing. Frustrated, I paused, debating for a brief moment whether to ignore it.

My feminine curiosity won out, so I stopped my little finger play and turned off the water. I grabbed the towel hanging on the rack next to the shower and quickly rubbed myself down. Can't a woman finger herself in peace, I thought, annoyed. The phone was still ringing. I wrapped the towel around me and stepped out of the bathroom, noticing the phone hadn't stopped. As I passed my son's room, I realized I must've left my purse in there. I'd just reached my purse when the ringing finally stopped.

I rummaged through my purse and pulled out my phone. The screen showed the name of my best friend, Sandra. She probably just wanted to wish me a good vacation. I'd met Sandra back in high school, and we'd been inseparable ever since--what you'd call BFFs, Best Friends Forever, these days. We'd been through thick and thin together. She helped me after my divorce, often watching Junior for me, while I supported her through her more-than-gloomy marriage. She's been married for over 20 years, no kids. Her husband only cares about his job, and their sex life has been dead for ages. She just hasn't managed to divorce that limp excuse of a man yet.

We'd shared a few sexual experiences together too. Things always got a bit risky when alcohol was involved. We had no secrets from each other. But I'll get into our past another time. I hit the call-back button, and as it rang, my friend picked up right away. "Hey, sweetie, did I catch you packing for your trip?" was her first line.

"No, I was just in the shower, trying to unwind a bit. It's been a wild day," I replied.

"Oh, unwind, huh!" I heard her giggle through the phone. "I know your kind of unwinding. Let me guess--the massage setting on the showerhead was cranked all the way up."

I shot back, "Well, after the day I've had, you'd be chasing an orgasm too."

"That intense?" she asked back.

Without thinking, I blurted out, "Well, first I got off work early, and when I got home, I caught Junior jerking off to a porno and shooting his load into the bikini top I bought for the trip. Then, when I had to run back to the office because I'd left some files at home, I walked in on my boss getting fucked in her office."

All I got back was a stunned "Whoa." Then she added, "Now I need to hear every detail." Since I was still standing in the room, I sat down on my son's bed and started spilling everything that had happened in vivid detail.

As I talked, I lay back on Junior's bed. I kept the part about my son brief but went into a lot of detail about my boss. With one hand holding the phone, I used the other to slowly unwrap my towel. Soon, I was lying completely naked on my son's bed, my hand drifting from my stomach downward. I slid my index finger inch by inch closer to my clit and started circling it. I closed my eyes, and instantly, the images I'd witnessed live and in color just hours ago flooded my mind.

From Sandra's breathing, I could tell she was turned on too--and probably not sitting idle. It wasn't exactly a daily thing for us to touch ourselves while on the phone, but it did happen when we shared our latest sexual escapades.

Sandra seemed a bit further along than me, because just as I got to the part where Christian was about to unload all over his mom, I heard a loud moan followed by, "Shit... Gerald's home." Then the line went dead--Sandra must've hung up. Once again, I was left alone with my desire, unable to finish.

Screw it, I thought, and started fingering my wet slit with two fingers. I closed my eyes, and instantly, the image of Sabrina popped back into my mind--lying on her back on the desk, getting fucked by her son standing between her legs. I slowly slid my two fingers in and out of my pussy, feeling my arousal build again. But suddenly, something shifted in my mind's eye. My excitement surged even higher as I realized that in the images in my head, I'd replaced Sabrina on the table.

My thumb joined my two fingers, pressing down on my clit and starting to rub it. I began to moan, and in my mind, I opened my eyes. I looked up at two arms holding the backs of my knees, a pelvis moving rhythmically back and forth at a rapid pace. In an instant, I was in a haze, imagining I could feel the tip of a cock hitting my cervix. Then my gaze drifted higher to a toned, youthful torso that I couldn't help but admire. While one hand worked my slit, I reached up with the other to my breast, tweaking a nipple between my thumb and index finger. My breathing quickened, my moans grew louder. I started kneading my breast, and the hand between my legs sped up. "Ahhhhh, yes, come on, you little horn-dog, give it to me," I gasped, knowing I'd hit the point of no return.

Now my mental gaze moved higher to the young man, clearly my boss's son. I love watching these young studs lose themselves in me, seeing the rising lust in their eyes when they're at the peak of their fantasies, finally getting to fill a mature woman. At first, his face was blurry, but suddenly, it came into sharp focus. The boy standing before me, relentlessly driving his cock into my pussy, was my own son. "NO, this can't... ahhhhh... can't be," I moaned, but I didn't stop my hands. If anything, I pulled the fingers that had been working my pussy out and started rubbing my clit fast and hard with them instead of my thumb.

I moaned in ecstasy, inching closer and closer to my orgasm. "No, don't come inside me... ohhhh... ahhhhh... it's so wrong but so hot... don't stop, but pull out when you come," I gasped. My index finger flew over my clit, and in my mind's eye, I saw my son standing there with a sly grin, slamming his cock deep into my slit over and over.

"No, Mom, I'm gonna pump it all into your hot mommy pussy," he replied. Then my orgasm hit me like a tidal wave. I thrust my hips against my hand, rubbing my clit frantically as if possessed. It was the most intense orgasm I'd ever given myself. At the peak of my climax, I opened my eyes.

"That was so intense... DOMINIC! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET OUT!" I yelled. In a split second, I realized my son was standing there, mouth agape. His hand was between his legs, clearly groping his erection.

Completely flustered, he stammered, "Mom, this is my room--what are you doing here?" It hit me then--I'd been on the phone with Sandra and was lying in my son's room.

Without thinking, I blurted out, "It's not what it looks like!" I could feel my face turning bright red as panic surged through me. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind.

How long had he been standing there? What had he seen? Did I say his name out loud? There's no way he could know what had been playing out in my head a minute ago. My son was still staring at me with lustful eyes. "What, never seen a naked woman before?" I snapped at him.

Without missing a beat, he shot back, "Naked, sure--but never while she's getting herself off."

His confidence--or maybe his carefree teenage attitude--made me furious in that moment. I stood up, grabbed my towel from his bed, and slapped him hard across the face. "I hope that was worth it," I hissed, storming past him. Dominic stood there like a drenched puppy in his own room.

I bolted straight to the bathroom, locked the door behind me, and sat on the closed toilet lid as the first tears rolled down my cheeks. You're such a dumb cow, I scolded myself. The euphoric high of my orgasm had vanished in under two minutes. All I felt now was emptiness. I stood up, walked to the sink, and looked in the mirror. My emotions had been completely thrown into chaos in a matter of moments--sky-high ecstasy one second, crushed by shame the next. How could I have let myself go like that, I wondered. Not only had I shamelessly gotten myself off on my son's bed, but I'd also pictured him fucking me.

I slowly realized that the situation, as I'd experienced it, turned me on, even though as a mother it should've turned me off. Never before had I entertained thoughts like that about my son. Sure, I loved being taken roughly by young studs, but I never could've imagined that the idea would get me so worked up that I'd have an orgasm like I'd never had from going solo before. But I also realized my son wasn't to blame. He hadn't asked me to get myself off in his room. He certainly couldn't help the mess playing out in my head either.

And what did I expect when he found his mom masturbating on his bed? That he'd just leave and wait for me to come out? Or maybe stand outside the room and loudly ask how much longer I'd need to finish? I had to smirk at the thought. No, my son had reacted the way probably 90% of guys his age would've. They'd stand there with a hard-on in their pants and watch. At least he didn't whip out his cock and jerk off in front of you, I thought shamelessly. Besides, just a few hours earlier, I'd done the same thing--watching him as he shot his load all over my bikini top.

I looked at myself in the mirror--my face, then my breasts, and finally my shaved slit. I raised an eyebrow and whispered to myself, "I probably would've stopped and stared too. Take it as a compliment! He could've reacted differently to a sight like that." I knew I owed my son an apology, but I also wanted to let him stew a bit. So, I decided to take a long shower first. I stood under the water for a good ten minutes, just letting it pour over me. Then I took my time washing my hair and shaving.

My leggings and shirt were still in the bathroom from my first shower attempt. As I slipped them on, I briefly considered putting on a bra and panties, but I smirked at the thought. He'd already caught his mom butt-naked masturbating and seen everything, so why bother doing something I wouldn't have done before? Freshly showered, I headed downstairs to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine from the fridge. I sat at the dining table and decided on a whim that I wasn't cooking tonight--we'd order pizza instead.

I sent my son a text: "How about pizza tonight? If you're up for it, come down and let's pick what to order." I set the phone aside and sipped my wine. Less than three minutes later, I heard my son's bedroom door open. Slower than usual, I heard him coming down the stairs. When he entered the room, he did so with his head down, clearly weighed down by guilt. He started to speak, but I stood up from my chair and walked over to him.

"Uh, Mom, I wanted to apologize," he began, but I placed my index finger on his lips and shushed him with a "Shh." I stepped in front of him and grabbed his shoulders.

"Look at me," I said. He lifted his head, pausing briefly on my chest before meeting my eyes. "If anyone needs to apologize, it's me. I put you in a position a mother shouldn't put her son in. I shouldn't have let myself go like that. I'm sorry, Junior." I wondered how I could explain this to him, but in the moment, nothing came to mind except the truth.

I gave him a quick rundown, explaining in brief that I'd caught my boss having sex in her office, without going into details. I also left out that I'd watched him jerking off earlier. I told him I'd been in the shower when Sandra called, and I'd left my purse in his room while checking if he was home. That's why I was only in a towel on his bed. I just said Sandra had shared one of her bedroom stories, and it got the better of me. Then I hugged him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I hope seeing your old mom masturbating didn't scar you for life," I said with a smile, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. I must've caught him off guard because he just stood there. I took his arms, crossed them behind my back, and pulled him into a hug. I pressed myself close, so he couldn't help but feel my breasts against his chest. I only meant to comfort him. We locked eyes, and I gave him another kiss before saying, "Can you forgive me one more time?"

Now he surprised me, grinning as he said, "Sure, I'll forgive you--will I get to see a show like that again?"

I playfully nudged him in the side and said, "Young man, I think I messed up somewhere raising you."

He stared pointedly at my cleavage and quipped, "The only thing you could be blamed for is not having a permit for those two ti--uh, I mean breasts."

I rolled my eyes and said, "Oh, so my dear son likes my breas--er, tits, huh? You guys are all the same. But they're big enough--you don't need to dive into my cleavage."

As he looked into my eyes again, his hands suddenly slid from my back down to my ass. Junior seemed to be getting a bit too bold. At the same time, I noticed the bulge in his shorts--which he'd put on by now--growing more pronounced. I could feel him pressing his hips against my stomach, since he was a good bit taller than my 5'1" frame.

Just as I was about to say something, he blurted out, "Mom, you look really hot."

I hesitated for a moment before replying, "You old charmer, my best days are long behind me."

"No, Mom, I mean it--I've been wondering for a while why there's no guy in your life. They must be lining up for you," he shot back.

I could now distinctly feel his erection, his hands starting to stroke my ass cheeks. A tingle suddenly rose inside me. I thought to myself, What is this? Is your own son turning you on now? It's high time I found a one-night stand to take care of me properly. I'll definitely find someone on this trip.

I grabbed my son's hands and pulled them back to my front. "Junior, those hands definitely don't belong there." I gave him a kiss on the forehead and turned to the bulletin board where the menus of our go-to delivery spots were pinned. "Come on, let's order pizza, and after we eat, we'll pack."

While we waited for the pizza, we talked about what we couldn't forget to bring on the trip. Over dinner, we chatted about all the things we could do on vacation, though his gaze was fixed more on my breasts than my face. Apparently, my little show earlier had left a bigger impression than I'd realized. I pretended not to notice. After eating, we tossed the pizza boxes, then split up to our rooms to start packing our suitcases.

Once I'd finished packing my suitcase, Junior suddenly appeared in the doorway and said, "I'm done--ready to go whenever you are." I'd just tucked the last item into my suitcase and was struggling to close it. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get it to shut. Dominic, watching me, burst out laughing. "Mom, what's the plan here? You trying to move there permanently? We're only gone for two weeks." He nudged me aside and said, "Let me give it a shot," but even with all his strength, he couldn't manage it either. Then he flipped the suitcase lid back open.

He let out a sharp whistle. Right on top were my bikinis and two lingerie sets, meant as a little teaser for my one-night stands on the trip. He looked at me, and I could tell I was turning red. He grabbed the two sets and held them right up to my face. "Well, these can't be why the suitcase is so full--let's see if we can make more room by rearranging." He started pulling everything out of the suitcase and laid it on the bed next to it. He even took my underwear out piece by piece, examining each one closely.

When everything was unpacked, he grinned at me. "You do realize we're flying to Mexico, right? It's gonna be 90°F there, and even at night, it'll still be around 78°F. Why do you need two long sweaters and two pairs of jeans? And seven pairs of shoes?"