Mom and I Discover One Another

My mother makes the best demiglace you've ever tasted. I'm not kidding, she spends days roasting bones, boiling stock, reducing... It's an amazing and daunting process. That's probably why I asked her to teach me.

Let me tell you a few things about us first. Mom was barely out of high school when she got pregnant with me. It was the south and both my parents were Christians, so my they tied the knot and within four years I was there, and pappy wasn't. Mom was smart, ambitious, and hard working. On top of that, she had lots of help from my grandparents (on BOTH sides) and her church. Tie that in with the fact that my grandparents owned a restaurant and Mom's food had made Michelin star chefs cry in envy and we had a comfortable life. I grew up well fed and well loved.

Despite her talent, effervescent personality, and inherent beauty, Mom didn't really date. Like, ever. As I got a little older, I asked her about it, and she just told me

"You're all the man I need in my life."

Well! That sort of comment makes a fella feel okay! I mean, here is this gorgeous, skilled, even inspired woman telling me I am enough... well... needless to say, I had a crush on my Mom!

Even then, it didn't really sink in until one night when I was eighteen and Mom came in to say goodnight. She wore a robe and was fresh out of the shower. Her was hair wet, and her robe fell open as she leaned over the bed to kiss me on the forehead. That was when I realized it was a sexual attraction... at least on my end.

That night, I could tell she was tired, and as it turned out, she hadn't closed her robe as thoughtfully as she probably ought to have done. As she leaned over, the robe fell open and I saw straight down her body. Her perfectly formed b-cup breasts with taut pink nipples, the soft, taut stomach, the light thatch of reddish pubic hair....

Mom noticed my glance and I was immediately hard. I don't mean I caught a semi; I mean I was so hard you could have etched glass with the head of my cock.

quickly wrapped her robe back around her with an odd grin and a blush that I didn't really understand. Not that I was understanding much other than MOM SEXY. I WANT TO TOUCH SEXY MOM.

Well, Mom didn't say anything, just turned and strolled out of the room. I don't know if it was just my imagination, but I could swear her hips swayed just a little more than usual as she left.

As the door closed, my hand found its way to my now throbbing cock and began to stroke. I masturbated three times that night, all three times fueled by visions of my mother's sexy body exposed to my gaze.

My dreams.... My dreams were not fit for mixed company.

My son is the only person in my life who has never, ever let me down. From the first moment I saw his sweet face I was entranced and in love like I never imagined I could be. I had thought his father was "the one". I guess all girls think that when they get to decide who will be their first. But my time with his father was nothing compared to what I had started feeling the morning I saw his eyes roam over my body.

I was shocked. Here was my beautiful young man drinking in my body as if it were water to a man dying of thirst. Of course, I was embarrassed, ashamed.... and I must admit... REALLY turned on.

After his father I had avoided men. They had been nothing but the source of problems. My father had been domineering and pushy, although helpful and generous as well. My ex-husband had been a shallow cad who never really tried to make things work. Even the few dates I went on after my son was born never really wanted anything but a quick fuck.

The two things in my life that really mattered were cooking and my son.

In case you don't know, chefs live at night. Restaurants live by dinner and the hours most chefs keep aren't conducive to family life. All that nightlife meant that there were plenty of men who moved in and out of my sphere of contact, but no one I was willing to introduce to my son or ever felt close enough with that I was willing to go farther with than a little making out.

That was before that night. I had gone in early to set the menu, write up the prep lists, do inventory, and prepare for the upcoming week. This meant I was tired from getting up too early, and I just wanted to go to bed. I had taken a long hot shower and was feeling pretty relaxed. I heard him settling down in his room and went in wearing my cozy robe, my hair still up in a towel, to give him a goodnight kiss and it happened.

To this day I can't honestly say there was no subliminal motive to my robe being that loose.

Let's be honest, moms. We know our sons masturbate. If all the crunchy cloth, hidden browser histories, and missing lingerie didn't clue us in, the long showers and suddenly frequent locked bedroom doors and sheet changes are pretty good indicators. I suppose these things had been brewing a worrisome stew of thoughts for quite a while when I walked in that evening.

To sum up, I was tired, relaxed (I had even had a couple of glasses of wine after I got home that night) and simmering in a long tide of sexual frustration complicated by a morass of male scent sprayed around the house when I went in that night.

When I leaned over... when I kissed him... when my robe parted... I can't really say it was fully accidental.

I saw his eyes open wider and drift from my face, down my neck, along the midline of my body, drifting from nipple to nipple, and then down to my bright red landing strip of pubic hair. I saw them, and I felt my vagina flare as if someone had thrown gasoline on a long smoldering fire.

I was so turned on by his eyes on my body, I wanted to grab his dick (which I just noticed poking up under his covers... OH MY!) and slide it into me right there. But that would be wrong, and dirty, and oh GOD, I'm going to hell for this, so fucking hot.

I could feel the blood flooding to my cheeks. I felt so ashamed that I had done that. I felt confused because I already knew somewhere deep inside me that it hadn't been entirely an accident. I felt ashamed I was so turned on by his gaze, his fascination... and his hard on.

I felt my nipples harden as I wrapped my robe shut around me and damn near fled from his room. I felt so dirty. I felt like a whore. I felt soooo goooooood!

That night I slid my hands down to my pussy and rubbed my clit as if doing so would save the world. I envisioned my son grabbing me, throwing me over the kitchen counter and ripping off my panties, his lust so heavy he couldn't stop himself. I fantasized about being loved, and wanted, and lusted for so badly he couldn't help himself. I fantasized about the erection I had seen through a thin layer of cotton sheet thrusting into my sopping cunt as my beautiful son made me his.

I came like I never had before.

The next morning, I got up for school (I had to be on campus at seven thirty in the morning) and was surprised to find Mom up and making breakfast. The house smelled of bacon, coffee, and Hollandaise sauce, so I knew I was getting Mom's perfect eggs benedict. This was a real treat! Mom's eggs benny could convert vegans back into omnivores. I followed my nose to the kitchen to find mom pouring a cup of coffee which she set down next to the second plate at the table. Breakfast together. Even better, she was wearing a silky rose-colored robe that barely hid the lacy black bra she had on. I knew it was lacy because the pattern lifts and indentations of the fabric could be seen through the light material... just like how I could tell her nipples were hard.

I felt a stirring that had nothing to do with hunger. My pants felt a little tight all of a sudden and I tore my eyes from Mom's sexy little breasts to look down at the plate.

"Those, I mean, THIS looks great, Mom!" I told her enthusiastically. My cock had short circuited my brain and I lowered my head so it might look like I was staring hungrily at my plate, rather than my mother's tits.

"Thanks, baby. I was really hoping you'd like it. I thought I would try to do something nice for the wonderful man in my life!" Mom was smiling, blushing, and had a weird twinkle in her eye.

Was Mom doing this on purpose? Nah, she couldn't be. She had just been really tired last night and now she was just up early to... wait, she had her day shift yesterday. Why WAS she up early?

I let my eyes drift from the bite I had just cut as Mom sat down on the other side of the glass table. I could see through the table the way the robe draped over her smooth thighs, exposing the barest edge of her panties... Black and lacy, just like the bra. I decided to try something that I desperately hoped wouldn't explode in my face and get me killed.

I stared hard at those panties for a moment, then slowly raised my eyes up her body, drinking in every detail as if I'd never see it again (because after what I was about to say, I might not). When I made it to her face, I noticed that she was blushing crimson and seemed to have trouble meeting my gaze. Mom was ashamed! She was ashamed, but still sitting there!

I noticed in my peripheral vision that her thighs parted ever so slightly more...

"I want you to take off that robe and give me a better look at that slutty underwear you're wearing."

When I woke up the following morning, I was still horny. I've awoken wet a bunch of times, but usually I can give my kitty a good morning and go about my day. This morning even though I masturbated and came twice before leaving bed, I couldn't clear my mind (or pussy) of thoughts of my son undressing me with his eyes.

I decided to give us both a little treat. His would be a nice long look, and mine would be a dirty, shameful bit of exhibitionism. I hadn't realized how much I got turned on by being just a little slutty!

I picked out my sexiest bra and panty set. It was a sheer black lace number with cut out nipples and French bikini panties that were nearly see through. Being a little scared, I covered it all with a rose-colored silk robe that came to just above the knee, then went down and began making my son's favorite breakfast.

The whole time I cooked I could think of nothing but how fucking dirty and sexy it would be to sit across that glass table from him and hoping I wouldn't (secretly WOULD) turn him on too much.

I swear my panties were so damp by the time he entered I was amazed he couldn't smell my pussy from across the kitchen.

When I turned and set his coffee at his plate, it was like I could FEEL his eyes caress me. I felt my nipples harden under his hungry eyes and wondered what he was thinking.

Oh my god! I felt like such a whore, displaying myself like this to my own son!

I sat down and couldn't meet his gaze. What must he be thinking about his mother right now? He had to be thinking I was just the trashiest little whore he ever met. I felt the humiliation of my actions causing my face to burn almost as hot as my pussy as I watched him begin to stare at my panties through the glass table.

I couldn't help myself... I opened my legs just a little and looked up to see his eyes boring into mine. That was when he said something that made my pussy absolutely flood.

"I want you to take off that robe and give me a better look at that slutty underwear you're wearing." His voice was deep and had just a touch of scorn. I couldn't disobey him. I wanted to, but it just wasn't in me to deny that yes, I was wearing slutty underwear and yes, I was doing it to show off to him.

I nearly came right then but the humiliation, the shame of being such a slut in front of my son held me back just a little. Not enough though, as without a word of protest I found myself untying the sash and letting the smooth fabric fall from my shoulders. God I felt so dirty!

My son leaned back in his chair and smiled broadly. We both knew who was in command now. His eyes roamed over my body and my nipples felt so hard they could etch glass. He drank in the slope of my b-cups, lingering on my erect nipples that showed clearly through the sheer fabric of my bra, the lace forming vines and flowers surrounding the nipple that served as the center of a flower. His eyes dipped down my body as he licked his lips hungrily, took another bite of food, then gazed lower to leer at my scantily clad pussy.

He leaned back in his chair and gave me a lusty smile. "Spread your legs and slide that sexy ass forward a little. I want a better view of your slutty panties."

I couldn't believe he was talking to me like this! My little boy was calling me a slut and telling me to display myself and it was irresistible. Only shame kept me from running over and impaling myself on his hard cock. And OH that cock! I could see it tenting the front of his khakis. I wanted a better look, but the thought that I was so turned on by this incestuous display made me feel so dirty, and humiliated, and paralyzingly ashamed. I spread my legs and scooted forward on my chair.

God! I was so wet, the seat beneath me felt slick!

My fingers drifted briefly over my pussy tickling it through my panties when he said "What the fuck do you think you're doing? I didn't say you could touch yourself. Keep those slutty fingers away from that cunt unless I give you permission."

It was like having a bucket of water thrown over me. The shame won out and I grabbed my robe and fled to my room, tears of humiliation, fear, and unfulfilled lust beginning to leak from my eyes, even as other parts began to leak down my inner thighs.