1 - SexySarah
This tale was up to over forty-six thousand words when I saw the light, and decided to break it up! This first part deals with a mother's reaction when she learns that her son fantasizes about fucking her. Enjoy! (I hope … )
A couple of notes: there are email messages and chat messages in this opus. I've used simple italics for the emails, and the chat messages are preceded by left angle bracket - < - and followed by right angle bracket - >
* * * * *
I had my feet up, fighting sleep as I pretended to watch a stupid film on television, when the phone rang. Caller ID said it was Ben's cell phone, so I picked up the handset.
"Hi, son. What's up?"
"Hi, Mom. Um, I need you to do me a favor, please?"
"Oh, yeah? Like what?"
He laughed. "Don't worry, Mom, it's easy. I need a file that's on my PC. I forgot to copy it when I came back to college last month after the break. If you could email it to me?"
"I think I can manage that. Do you want to hold on, or shall I ring you back when the computer is running?"
"Ring me back, please, Mom? Um, Mom? You'll need my user-name and password."
"Ah, yes. Good thinking, son. Just a moment until I grab a pencil ... okay, shoot."
"Okay, Mom, user name is benjie. B, e, n, j, i, e. All lower case."
"Okay, got that. Password?"
He paused a moment. "Um, it's SexySarah#1. Capital S, lower case e, x, y, uppercase S, then lowercase a, r, a and h. Then the number sign, and digit 1. No spaces. Okay?"
I read it back to him, my mind whirling. Sexy Sarah, huh? That's my name, Sarah. Not sure about the sexy, although I had really enjoyed sex with my late husband. A lot. "Okay, son, I'll ring you back in about ten minutes, okay?"
"Okay, Mom. Love you. 'Bye." He hung up and I replaced the handset, slowly. Was I making too much of it? Highly probable. I laughed and made my way up to his room. We had the space, and we'd converted a large closet into an office for him. He had his PC and printer on the desk, and plenty of filing space for his papers. I switched the computer on and waited for it to go through the boot procedure, then entered his user name and password. Bingo! I reached for the phone near his desk and dialed his cell phone. He answered on the first ring.
"Hi, Mom. All ready to go?"
"Sure thing, son. What am I looking for?"
"Open the file manager, and look for a folder labeled 'College'."
"Um, okay, yep, got that. Now what?"
"Open the 'College' folder. There are other folders in that one. The one I want is labeled 'C++'. Open that, and find a folder labeled 'Project'. If you could attach that folder to an email and send it?"
"Two minutes. I'll just put the phone down." Blessing the fact that both Ben and my late husband Jack had made sure I knew my way around a computer, I opened up Ben's email program, typed up a quick note, addressed the email to his college address, and attached the folder. I checked, yes, everything okay, and clicked on 'send'. I picked the phone up again. "Ben?"
"Hi, Mom. Everything okay?"
"The folder's on its way. Do you want me to hold until you check?"
"Sure thing, Mom, if you don't mind?"
"No problem, son. Tonight's TV is rubbish, I'd rather talk to my son. Everything going okay?"
"Mostly, Mom, except that Jill broke it off. To be honest, I'd been expecting it. She's a lovely girl, but we had nothing in common."
"Too bad, son." I laughed. "You can concentrate on your exams now."
"Yeah, right. Hey, just a second, Mom. Yeah, the email just arrived. A moment until I check it … um, yes, the files are there. Thanks, Mom, you just saved me a lot of work."
"Okay, son. Tasks like that I don't mind, but don't make a habit of it, okay?"
He laughed. "No way, Mom. Thanks again, and bye for now."
"Bye, son. Take care, and good luck in the exams."
"Thanks, Mom. Bye." He hung up, and I replaced my own handset. About to switch off the PC I caught sight of the corner of a folder on his desk. A paper - a photo - was sticking out a little and I saw what looked like bare skin. I was about to reach for it, then stopped myself. Invasion of Ben's privacy, Sarah. I fought my inner devil for a moment, but the devil won and I reached for the folder. I opened it and stopped dead. It was a photo, yes, and I had seen bare skin. A lot of it, in fact, because the subject of the photo was a naked woman. Now a mere nude wouldn't have stopped me dead. After all, my son was male, only twenty-one, and as far as I knew was as horny as the next guy. He'd had girlfriends and I was pretty sure that more than one of them had been bedmates, too.
No, what stopped me dead was the subject of the photo, because it was me, totally naked, and there was no way Ben could have a nude photo of me. I knew that, because I'd never been naked in his presence. I took a closer look at the photo, then realized. Yes, it actually
was
me, but the photo had been taken about five years earlier, before Jack died, and the three of us, plus Ben's then girlfriend, Rhonda, had been to the beach for the day. Somehow, despite my reservations, I'd let Rhonda persuade me to buy a bikini for the trip. Now, I look after myself, eat carefully and exercise regularly, and I think my figure is pretty good. My tits aren't particularly big, but as my late husband always said, 'anything more than a handful is wasted,' and I hadn't drooped much at all over the years. In fact, they still looked – and felt – pretty good to me. I looked closely at the photo and smiled. Definitely not my tits. The size and shape were about right, yes, but my areolae are bigger. I guessed Ben must have manipulated the photo. I laughed and went to put it back, but then a thought struck me. Why on earth would Ben want a nude photo of his mother?
For a sexually experienced widow of forty-one I can be incredibly naive at times. Why does any virile young heterosexual male keep a picture of a naked woman near his bed? Masturbation stimulus, that's why! But his
mother
? Ben was masturbating to thoughts of
me
? I was trying to be annoyed but my innate honesty recognized the self-delusion, and I felt a hot flush run through me, centered between my legs. The thought of Ben jacking off to a picture of me was getting me sexually excited!
I sat back, thinking hard. That I ought to be shocked, even disgusted, I recognized and discarded. I understood sex drive, oh yes. Jack and I had had an active sexual life. I loved to be fucked, and he loved to fuck me. Now, for reasons which completely escaped me, I was thinking of being fucked by my son. Not only that, but the thought was exciting me! I shook my head, and went to put the picture back in the folder, but a slip of paper in the folder caught my eye. A list of website addresses. I looked closer, recognizing one or two of them as porn sites Jack and I had looked at for occasional stimulus. Not that we needed it, because just the sight of each other naked was enough to trigger a mutually satisfying sex session, but yes, sometimes we got ideas. There were other site addresses I didn't recognize, though. A couple of things caught my eye, references to MILFs, whatever they were, and 'mothers and sons'. I thought for a moment or two, and then reached for the keyboard, opening the browser and keying in the first address.
Half an hour later I sat back, pensive, closing the browser and preparing to close down the computer. I paused, thinking. He had the list of websites, but did Ben have anything saved on his computer? A few minutes searching and I thought I might have found something, but when I tried to open the folder, I found it was password-protected. Would his main password work? Yes! Well, almost. It was actually SexySarah#2. I opened the folder and started to browse.
When I finally got around to shutting down the computer an hour or so later, I had a lot to think about. Primarily, whether to confront Ben about it. In all honesty, what I had done was invade my son's privacy, and that was a trust I wasn't prepared to break casually. But what I had read on Ben's computer indicated that the idea of fucking his mother was high on his list of desires. I'd found out what a MILF was - 'a mom I'd like to fuck.' He'd even made a list. Top of the list was me, and I wasn't quite sure what I thought about that, but his aunt Carol was there, too, as were Jenny Collins and Alice Jensen, two neighbors. Sisters, they were both younger than me, Jenny by about a year, her sister Alice nearer three, but both of them at least sixteen or seventeen years older than Ben. If I included myself, all of the women on Ben's list were attractive, intelligent older women. It seemed that whatever else was involved, and I wasn't prepared to go there, not yet, at least my son showed good taste in his choice of older women! Although it was only mid-evening, I was a little tired and got ready for bed. I lay in bed for ages thinking, thinking about my son's obvious desire to fuck his mom. That the thought excited me, I admitted freely. Whether I'd do anything about it I just didn't know, and my sleep was restless when I finally dozed off.
Jack's will and insurance had left us comfortable, but I still need to work to bring in some cash, cash I could use to put the occasional luxury into our lives, so for four-and-a half days a week, plus the occasional weekend cover, I work in real estate. Usually in the office, occasionally filling in to show prospective customers around properties we had on the books. I finished at midday on a Friday and usually had at least a coffee, sometimes lunch, with my sister Carol. Fifteen months older than me, Carol was another single mother. In her case, of twins, Tony and Tina, a year or so older than Ben. Carol wasn't a widow, but divorced. Because she'd had a good lawyer the divorce settlement was good, and she, like me, was comfortable but needed to work for the luxuries. Carol worked for the firm of lawyers who had handled her divorce. Because she was a good employee, a paralegal, the partner who handled the divorce for her, Alicia Juarez, had charged her only for actual costs, doing the rest of the work pro bono. Anyway, enough of that. The offices where we worked were only a couple of blocks apart so, as I said, we had a coffee or lunch together on a Friday.
Carol and I are close, and she'd always looked out for me as we were growing up, and as we moved apart and into relationships, and then marriage, we remained good friends. I knew I could ask her about just about anything and know that I'd get an honest answer. I'd dithered for a few days but decided I needed to ask her about Ben's fantasy. This Friday was a lunch day, and we went to one of our favorites, Bambina. Italian, good food, reasonable prices. As usual, it was busy, and conversation was difficult, private conversation impossible. Not to worry, because it was a fine summer day. On fine summer days we took coffee-to-go and went and sat in a little park a block away. Nearly always quiet during the day, maybe a few pre-school children and their mothers in the play area, but the benches were set well apart and it was easy to spot anyone getting close enough to eavesdrop. We sat, and as usual, I kicked off my shoes, wriggling my toes.
Carol laughed. "You always do that."
