Mothers often freak out when their children leave home for the last time. "Empty Nest Syndrome" they call it, making mothers "Empty Nesters". These women try to helicopter parent their kids when they should both be spreading their wings as individuals, when they should be taking advantage of time apart to really grow as humans.
I always thought that was pathetic, the Moms who proudly shared their dirty laundry online, a disappointing way to tell everyone that you don't have a life outside of your children, that your bedroom is dead, and you don't have enough hobbies.
My son, Lee, and daughter, April, left our home for the University of Wisconsin (Madison) a year apart. Lee two years ago, April last year, and I personally think that I took the separation well, at least at first...
I think I would've been fine forever, but for being a young(ish) single mother for their high school careers.
Flynn, their father, ran off with a young woman barely older than April, to go "follow his passion", whatever that meant.
We had met at his OB/GYN practice when I was a young, impressionable, malleable nurse. Over months of careful grooming, he gave me the attention I craved, and in return I became his sex toy. I indulged in his breeding kink, taking gallons of cum over the years -dripping his children out over the course of every workday- and eventually giving him two beautiful, amazing kids.
Overall he fulfilled his obligations, and never got tired of pounding my vagina full of his seed, but I suppose it stopped being fun once I was clear I didn't want more of his kids. He left a chunk of his savings, part of his 401k, and the house fully paid off to his credit, but that didn't mean that we forgave him.
I had to get Freshman April, and Sophomore Lee through the trauma of losing their relationship with their father, and having to grow up a little quicker than I would've liked. In the end, he returned to Green Bay, with a pregnant younger wife and a tan, the very definition of a scumbag.
I digress, when it came time to let my children go, to allow my babies to go off into the world all by themselves, I confess that my veneer of self-confidence cracked a little bit.
Immediately post-April moving into the dorms, I was fine. I finally took pilates to regain my pre-motherhood ass, started writing the novel I'd always wanted to pen, and took care of a thousand small chores that had permeated our house since the kids were young.
Cracked baseboard? Replaced.
Squeaky door? Oiled.
Drooping fence? Reposted.
All were made whole once again, and put back where they needed to be for...
For what? It was just me in a three bed, two bath house in Green Bay.
Sure, the kids came back for holidays, but with every loose floorboard I repaired, every faucet I plumbed, and every bolt I tightened, I began to question my resolve to not snoop on Lee & April's lives. I began to fall apart even as the material conditions of my home improved, with every screw I screwed, I came an equal but inverse amount of undone.
Slowly but surely, I descended into a deep depression, as only a long-time mother could know. I stopped working down my project list, I stopped spending time with friends and neighbors, and I started searching for a new way to get my dopamine. To desperately avoid my instinct to become a helicopter parent, I confess, I took a page out of Flynn's book and started exploring my sexuality- by which I mean I started watching a ton of porn.
At first, it was just run of the mill stuff. A young man and a young woman trying to jump atop each other competitively, moaning with exaggerated ecstasy. That felt a little disingenuous to me, but it was fine for a while.
I spent many evenings moaning, orgasming five, eight, ten times to the writhing of limbs and slapping of testicles, penises moving in and out of tight young holes. I got a special thrill at seeing creampies, remembering my ex-husband's big cock depositing its genetic load deep inside me. He was an asshole, but part of his kink seems to have rubbed off on me, and I always cum the hardest when condoms are not involved.
Written works from small creators were good, stories of eroticism and fantasy scenarios. I particularly enjoyed the fantasy of non-consent, the thought of being taken against my will arousing a kinky side of me that needed to be satiated. Reddit stuff was okay, but a little repetitive, the same clips posted time and time again with slowly worsening JPEG compression.
I found captions to be enjoyable, but the hit of BDSM and taboo scenarios with strangers soon waned as well. I started delving into amateurs, and into ever more risque detail before finally landing on Incest.
As a suburban mother, I was no stranger to the sexual developments of my childrens' lives.
Lee had spent the better part of high school splattering cum against the wall in his bedroom, or in his sheets, or in his boxers, or in the shower, or on the toilet.
April had kept a small vibrator in her underwear drawer, thinking I didn't know about it, and that I didn't hear her pleasuring herself at night.
Never before, though, had I considered them as fully sexually mature individuals, able to interact with me, and with one another, on a more level playing field. I spent days, weeks, browsing for incest content, searching for ever more arousing, ever more tantilizing, more "real" content to sate my shameful, lustful desires.
When it paired with my burgeoning breeding kink, I was particularly disgusted in myself. The combined "family" and "creampie" tags on pornhub were bookmarked in my browser, bringing me no end to shame- when I wasn't masturbating to them that is.
Truly, I felt far-gone, felt miserable and dirty, but still superior to those mothers who couldn't let their children go. I had let them go, I reasoned, and was simply exploring my sexuality as a thirty-nine year old.
Incest, thinking about Lee's big arms encircling me, or April's father taking
her
instead of the floozy he'd run off with, was just another kink to be explored.
My vagina was on fire, was hot with lust at the thought of something so taboo, of my young man's cock sliding in and out of me. Instead of cumming on the wall, shooting his load into his mother, spraying his genes deep into me.
One evening in particular, I was reclined in my office chair, fully nude, playing with myself one evening in March. Stories, captions, and "incest" videos scrolled past my face, already three orgasms deep, feeling the warm glow in my belly as I immersed myself in my lust and my taboo interests. That's when I came upon it, what I later came to call "the video".
It had one of your standard porn post names, something like "REAL - Brother and Sister Fuck IN HER DORM ROOM While Roommate is OUT - ACCIDENTAL CREAMPIE". I nearly scrolled past it, as it linked out to some sketchy third party website "IncestDaily.com", one of those that has a hundred popups and a thousand viruses reaching towards your computer.
