"Shit," she sighed as she turned the key and opened the door to the palpably empty house. It was a tough week and if she had ever needed the filial companionship of her lover, it was today. She immediately made her way to the bedroom, as he knew she would. They had lived together for the entire 18 years of his existence and her habits were not unknown to him.
As she entered the bedroom, she began to peel off her sticky work clothes. She flopped onto the bed, face down, clad only in the plain underclothes she wore when she had no-one to show her body to. She grabbed her special pillow, the one she sometimes use to prop herself up with when he fucked her from behind, and she lay there for lonely minutes that stretched into eons, breathing deeply.
Eventually, she rolled over and reached lazily for her stash box. It contained (or should have contained) about an ounce of high grade marijuana, a pack of rolling papers and a novelty lighter with a picture of a young women, naked from the waist up. Today, however, the box contained slightly less than an ounce of high-grade marijuana, the pack of rolling papers, and a note:
Mama,
I hope your day at work wasn't TOO bad! By now I'll be at John's for the weekend. I got into your stash yesterday before you got home from work, but please promise you won't decide to be mad until the end of this little game. I think you'll like it and forgive my theft. Go into the living room, you'll find your reward there.
Your baby boy
Drawn above the signature was a small crude hand drawn heart and an even cruder hand drawn cock and balls, with several blobs of semen flying from the tip. She laughed out loud. She knew she wouldn't be mad at him.
Still in her underclothes (but with a damp patch slowly growing in the crotch), she found her way to the living room. There she found the lighter from her stash box, a small glass of brandy in what appeared to be a dirty snifter, and the obscenely shaped bong she had bought for her son as a joke. There was also another note, and she supposed she was meant to read it, but instead she sat down and undid her full-support bra, allowing her 38-C breasts to spill from their enclosure. The cooler air felt good against her freckled and sweaty tits.
She grabbed the bong and placed it between her legs, giggling like a school girl at the large male member now sprouting proud and erect from her pubis. She caressed the pink glass head of the bong with her left hand, and the fullness of her breast and soft pink areola with her right. She picked up the second note and began to read.
Mama,
The dong is filled with water, packed and ready to go. Turn the TV on and press play on the camcorder. Don't drink the brandy until I tell you to.
Your good little boy.
She looked up. Their digital camcorder was indeed wired to the television. She turned the TV on and started the camcorder's playback. The screen flickered black and settled on a picture of her baby boy's bedroom. She stared intently at the TV.
Her baby boy, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt came into frame and sat on his bed, his left leg out and his right leg folded under it. He was fingering a small white object. "Hello, mama. It's your good little boy. I know you've been having such a rough week at work, and I know you'll want to play this weekend, only I can't. I'll be away at a sleepover. But I thought of a way that we can be together, even if we're not." He brought the small white object, obviously a joint to his lips, lit it and inhaled. "Go on, take a hit from that big dick while I smoke some of this."
She did as her baby boy instructed, focusing her attention downward for just a few seconds. When she had returned her gaze to the television, he was still smoking his joint, but his t-shirt had come off. "It's nice to get high together, isn't it, mommy? And what is mommy wearing? Her work clothes? Poor mommy! Why don't you take those off?"
"I'm way ahead of you, kid" she said to the TV, once again fingering her rosy nipples.
He smiled and winked at the camera as he took a couple hits from the joint, giving her time she didn't need to take off her clothes. "Is mommy in her underwear now? Good. It's been a hard week, so I packed enough for two hits in there. Go ahead and take the other one, the one I would have if we were together."
Again she did as she was told, again shifting focus from the TV to the bong and back again, and again the scene had changed. Now her son was standing up, much closer to the camera. Almost the entire frame was filled with his body, with the beginnings of his still-growing happy trail around his belly button at the top of the frame and his lower thighs at the bottom. She noted with no small approval that his abs were beginning to get some definition. She had encouraged him to start working out a year ago and the dividends were paying off quite nicely.
"That's a good mommy. But you're also a naughty mommy, aren't you? You have to be naughty to have such a huge collection of porn movies and magazines. You have to be naughty to smoke as much weed as you do. And you have to be really, really naughty to fuck your own son, don't you mommy?"
She nodded, flushed. She was naughty, and she had always been naughty.
On screen he hitched this thumbs into the belt loops of his shorts. The added weight brought them ever so slightly lower, revealing now not just his happy trail, but also the first tangles of his orange pubic hair.
"And do you know what naughty mommies get? They get spanked! Now, I'm not there to spank you, so you're going to have to do it yourself. On the honor system." As he spoke he pulled the waist of his pants up and down, around and around, revealing and covering up more of that beautiful red nest of hair. "What I want you to do, mommy, is to get on your hands and knees right there on the couch, lengthwise so that you can turn your head and keep on watching the TV. Put your chest and head down so that your tits are rubbing the couch cushions and your ass is as high in the air as it can be."
