My Love Affair with My Son

"At me or my photos?" I sort of gabbled.

He moved even closer, gripping my hand more firmly and said quietly as he stared into my eyes.

"Both, you and your photos."

"Are you now?" I rather limply asked.

"Yes mum, very much so."

"I'm sorry Peter," I pathetically sighed not knowing what else to say.

We were silent for a while.

"Jayne," he said quietly still holding my hand. "Let me take some of you?"

"Some what?" I asked knowing full well that he meant photos.

"Some shots."

"No don't be silly" I replied feeling excited at the idea.

"Why not? You say you like posing and being photographed."

"That's different."

"How is it and why?"

I was feeling flustered and hugely embarrassed at what he was suggesting.

"It just is, those photos are different."

"What, different to me taking some?"

"Yes."

"Because of what you were wearing or...............," he said pausing and looking into my eyes before adding with a slight smile. "What you weren't wearing?"

Despite the gravity of the situation, I couldn't help smiling and rather confused I replied.

"Yes, er no. No just different."

"Well let's take some photos and not be different."

"What do you mean?"

He moved a little closer and rubbed my wrist with his fingers as he said quietly.

"If we don't take different photos then we would take similar ones wouldn't we?"

I thought for a moment and then realised what he meant.

"You mean with me undressed."

"Yes, then they wouldn't be different."

"Peter, don't be silly," I replied pulling my hand away. "They were taken for a purpose, a reason."

"Yes mum and so would ours."

"No, no they wouldn't mine were personal and intimate."

"How, what do you mean?" he asked squeezing my hand suggestively.

"Never mind they were private."

"What you just wanted to get your rocks off?" he asked smiling.

"No, no of course not."

"So to help dad get his off?"

"It was to help our marriage yes.

"Well as he's still away much of the time it doesn't seem to have worked, does it?"

"It did for a while," I said quietly.

"Well maybe ours would."

"Would what?"

"Work for a while."

"How would your dad know?"

"Just tell him you had another boudoir."

"He went ballistic last time."

"Well then don't tell him."

"What?"

"Just do it Jayne, just let me take some for our pleasure."

"No."

"For our fun our enjoyment?"

"No, no I couldn't," I gulped feeling so excited at the thought.

"Why not?"

"You're my son."

"Yes, and you're my mother and we love each other, don't we?"

"Yes of course darling................," I said pausing as I gathered my thoughts before saying in almost a whisper that I knew was not at all convincing. "But not in that way."

"No, really?" he asked moving even closer so that his knee pressed against mine as I leaned back against the work surface. "Really not mum?" he said very softly as he put his hand on my hip.

I couldn't reply. Part of me, the womanly part, so wanted to tell him that that I did love him that way, whatever that actually meant as our conversation was becoming rather disjointed. But another part, the motherly part knew it was wrong and that couldn't persuade the other part to own up so I just whispered.

"Oh Peter," as he pulled me into his arms and said.

"I understand mum, I know the problem, just a few shots."

"Let's go back to my room," I stammered.

Glasses in our hands we went into the conservatory.

"Let me get my camera?"

"No, it's ridiculous."

"Mum it isn't ridiculous. I like taking photos, you like being photographed, we have the opportunity, we're alone and I have the means with my new Canon."

"But I'm your mother Peter, not a young girl or a model."

"Yes, a mother you may be, but you are also a stunningly attractive woman who I would love to photograph....................," he paused as he walked to the PC, clicked the mouse, filled the screen with a close up of my naked breasts with erect nipples. "Like this."

I jumped when I saw my photo and as he then flicked through several more saying. "Like this," to shots of me from behind bending over, lying on the floor, kneeling and on a bed. Shots of me in thongs, see through bras, basques, French knickers and a waspie. Photos of me in lingerie, topless and naked.

"Peter stop it."

"Don't you like them?"

"No I don't."

"Really Jayne?" He asked holding on the screen a photo of me pinching my nipples. My eyes were half closed and my mouth was slightly open as I projected the look of a woman about to cum. "That is about the most erotic photo I have ever seen. I would love to have taken that shot"

"Well for sure you won't photograph me like that."

"How can I photograph you then?"

"You can't."

He walked over and stood close to me.

"Please mum, let me take some, nothing risqué."

"Why do you want to?"

"Having you pose for me would be the most exciting thing I can imagine. Please."

I was now in a quandary. He had sort of backed me into a corner.

"Just dressed as you are Jayne. You know you will like it."

I felt very warm and I was extremely torn. The idea of being photographed was exciting enough by itself, but the prospect of him taking them made it even more so. At the same time, though, I knew I had to resist, but I also knew it was what a part of me wanted. There had been this sexual tension between us for some time now and the fact that he had the photographs partially explained that. I worked out that it was around the time he had said he had first got them that the atmosphere between us had become more intense.

He walked out, I guessed to get his camera. He'd become interested in photography a few years ago during a school project for which he won a prize. For his eighteenth birthday we'd bought him a hideously expensive Canon digital that was now starting to take shots of me; I could hardly believe it.

"Just sit there like that Jayne and look over your shoulder at the camera," I heard him say from behind me.

I looked round and as I did, he clicked button and shot me.

"Peter stop," I resisted as I saw him turning the lens presumably moving in closer. He ignored me and shot a few more of me like that. He moved so that he was side on to me, firing away all the time.

"Come on mum, give me something."

"What do you mean?"

"Pose for me, smoulder, love the camera," he went on moving around and taking shots from all angles "As you did when you posed for the boudoir, for dad."

That hit home, but despite my extreme reservations I found myself responding. I patted my hair in place and beamed a smile at the camera.

"I wasn't posing for him."

"Well the boudoir photographer then, same thing."

"Mmmm fantastic, you have such a great smile mum. Tip your head back," he went on moving closer to where I was seated on the arm of the settee.

I did as he asked.

"Hurry up Peter," I said not really wanting him to hurry, but felt it prudent to say so.

"Just a few Jayne. Would you arch your back a bit please?"

I realised of course that by doing that my breasts would push out and be emphasised. It was then that I should have once and for all stopped him. But I didn't and I did as he asked.

"Oh my god they look fantastic Jayne," he said softly, clearly focusing the camera on my chest and his words on my breasts.

That sent a little shudder of excitement through me, although I hated myself for being turned on by my son talking about my breasts.

"Stop it," I said probably totally unconvincingly.

"Stand up please mum."

Almost mesmerised now by the heavy sexual atmosphere I obeyed.

"Turn round."

I did as I said. "Why?"

"I want some of your rear."

"My rear."

"I mean your bum mum, you have a great arse."

"Peter don't," I admonished.

"But you do Jayne you have a great ass," he retorted, adopting a slight American accent to say ass. "And that skirt does it proud."

"Thank you, Peter," I found myself saying as I turned round with him clicking away as I did. He gave me a series of instructions in quick succession.

"Look over your shoulder at me."

"Turn at the waist. To your right and now your left. Hold that and put your left hand in your hair, ruffle it up a bit. Put your hands as far above you as you can get them. Mmmmmm lovely," he breathed. "Bare skin at last."

I realised that my grey, button up blouse had come out of the skirt and had ridden up a bit and that my back and side would be on view to him and the camera.

"Pull it up further Jayne."

"What my top?"

"Yes. As if you are about to take it off."

"Now Peter, don't go too far."

"I only said as if you were going to take it off, not take it off, so don't worry."

"Ok, but this is as far as I am going."

I wrapped my arms around my front and reached down and gripped the hem of the blouse.

"Lift it up a bit mum."

"Just a little then," I muttered now feeling hugely turned on.

I pulled it up so there were a few inches between the waist of my skirt and the blouse.

"Oh yes, more bare flesh," he sighed clicking away. "Just a bit further and arch your back a little."

I lifted it further enjoying the sensation of exposing my back to the camera or, I suddenly thought, to my son.

"Ok?" I asked looking over my shoulder at him. He was standing upright and as clear as anything I saw his erection in his tight jeans. It made me gulp, but I wasn't quite sure why. Concern, guilt, worry, want, desire hope? I wasn't sure, possibly all of them.

Our eyes met.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"That's ok," I said secretly pleased that I could turn him on so much.

"Just a bit more."

"What the top?"

"Yes, will you pull it up further."

I couldn't see much of a problem with that so I eased it up a little more so that it was nine inches or so up from my waist.

"Pull it up Jayne, so the camera sees your bra strap."

Maybe foolishly, I tried but it was too tight. He saw that I was struggling and said.

"Maybe undo some buttons mum."

"Peter this is going too far."

"It's only us mum, no one will see them apart from us."

"You promise?"

"Of course, you can help me delete them when we've done. Ok?"

"I suppose so."

"Then, a couple of buttons and up to your bra strap Jayne."

I undid two and lifted it up until the quite thin for the weight it had to support, black bra strap was visible to the camera.

"Oh boy yes, that's awesome Jayne."

He clicked away as I turned from side to side and put on a bit of a show by tossing my head back and running my spare hand through my hair.

"Gee that's fantastic. Now keep the top up above the bra strap mum and bend forward so I get more of that lovely bum. How about pulling the top up so it's around your neck?"

"That will mean I show all of my bra."

"Yes, mum spot on, come on what's the problem?"

"Me doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Posing like this."

"You've done it loads of times."

"No I haven't."

"Well at least five, right?"

"How do you know?" I asked astonished that he knew the exact number.

"Digicams leave their mark, date and type of cam mum so I can tell. Two different guys or, of course one guy using different cameras on five different dates. You did enjoy yourself, didn't you?"

"Oh I see, so you're sort of used to it aren't you mum?"

"No. no of course not."

"Well not used to but have done it before and shown a lot so come on undo some more of the buttons mum, please?"

Yes, I know, but not with you, my son," I mumbled.

"But you know what I have seen don't you Jayne?" he said going to the PC and rapidly bringing shot after shot of me in varying degrees of undress onto the screen. "See I have seen everything, haven't I?" he went on leaving a shot on the screen of me lying on my bed, just dressed in holdups with my hands wedged between my thighs, which were clamped round them.

"Yes," I said softly, the sheer enormity of him finding the photos again hitting me.

"So really showing me again doesn't matter does it for I will always have them won't I?"

"Yes."

"Lift it up then mum."

I tried pulling the blouse up so that it was bunched round my upper chest between my shoulders and boobs, but as he saw, it was too tight. "Undo more buttons then Jayne."

With shaking fingers, I could hardly manage the small buttons but I undid a couple more so that the material was released and I managed to pull the blouse up above my breasts and around my neck.

"Will you turn round now please?"

I turned slowly knowing that we were going into very uncharted territory. I was showing my son my breasts in a gossamer thin, near diaphanous bra. I was acutely aware that my nipples were as hard as they could be and that they would be clearly visible to him and his camera.

He was shooting fast now, fiddling with the lens presumably zooming in and out on my breasts and nipples.

"Just pose naturally Jayne as you did when you posed for dad or.........," he paused before adding. "Whoever."

I didn't respond, but felt terrible that he knew I had posed for the boudoir guy and someone else. I struck a number of poses, turning this way then the other, putting my hands on my hips then in my hair. Peter ooohed and ahhed as I did that.

"Smashing mum. I can see that I am working with a real pro."

"Now, now I'm not that."

"Ok a gifted amateur then."

"Yes, that's better," I replied smiling feeling slightly more relaxed as the mood lightened. He soon changed that though.

He was peering into the camera and not even looking at me when he said very huskily, quite softly and in an almost matter of fact tone.

"Take it off Jayne."

I didn't say anything. Equally I didn't do anything, but I just stood there.

"Come on please, take your blouse off. We have come this far and I have seen your breasts in the shots haven't I?"

"Yes, but this is going too far."

"Why is it? We'll delete them after," he said holding the camera by his side and standing up straight.

I couldn't stop my gaze running down my son's body. It locked on his full erection. He didn't flinch or look away when he saw where I was looking.

"See what you do to me mum?"

"Yes," I whimpered.

"So please take the blouse and the bra off."

Without further ado and hardly any thought I slipped the blouse off and dropped it on the floor. He took more shots.

"Jesus you look fantastic," he told me as I reached behind me. "Hold it there and turn round I want to get some shots of you taking it off. Thanks Jayne."

He snapped away from the back, side and front as I removed my bra and stood before him topless.

"Oh God Jayne your tits are awesome, touch them for me."

"Peter this really is going too far. We have to stop."

"No mum it's not, it's perfect. This is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me Please, please touch them. You did it for dad, well the boudoir guy and you enjoyed it, didn't you?"

His words and, I have to admit the outline of his hard on in his jeans got me going.

I lifted a hand and gently touched my breast. I stroked it, caressed it. That felt so good.

He asked. "Is that nice mum?"

"Mmmmm yes," I sighed cupping the other breast with my other hand.

"Is it?"

"Yes Peter it is."

"Pinch your nipples for me."

I didn't even think of objecting. They needed to be treated like that. I pinched and pulled them. That felt great.

"Oh Jayne this so fantastic, you did didn't you?"

"Did what?" I sighed as such wonderful feelings roared through me from where I was pinching my nipples.

"Enjoy it with the boudoir guy?"

"No, no of course not," I lied.

"Then why do it?" he asked taking shots of my finger on my nipples and the looks of pleasure on my face.

"I just did, I did it for dad, for our marriage," I lied more.

"Not because you were worked up then mum?" he asked moving around taking my breasts and hands from various angles.

"No."

"Like you are now mum, aren't you mum?"

"Stop it Peter," I said as sternly as I could taking my hands away from my breasts and bending down and picking up my bra and blouse.

"I am mum so you must be as well."

"I said stop it Peter, we mustn't."

"Mustn't what?"

"Nothing stop it."

"Would you with the boudoir guy?"

"Would I what?"

"Have gone further than just being photographed?"

"No, no of course not," I said sharply thinking back to lying naked on his studio floor, my legs wide open and both hands between them almost hoping Marcus would ask to fuck me.

"Didn't he ask?"

"No, of course not."

"That's good then isn't it?

"Yes maybe it is, but we have to stop now and I mean it," I said holding my blouse over my bare breasts.

"Ok, but it really has been amazing he said walking over to me. "Not much point doing that really is there?" He said smiling and gently taking the blouse from me. Thank you so much mum, you really are an amazing woman.

"And you are a great son," I whispered putting my hand up to stroke his face. Possibly thinking I was going to put my arm round his neck or was giving him an invitation, he slid his arm round my waist, pulled me to him and kissed me, full on the mouth. I fell against him as his arms pulled me to him.

'Jesus his cock is awesome' I was thinking as, momentarily I revelled in the feelings of my son's fully erect, stunningly hard cock pushing into the softness of my stomach. It seemed so big for it pressed against me from my pubic bone to my navel. Somehow, I managed to control myself and I came to my senses.

"Peter no, stop," I grunted slipping away from him.

"Mum sorry, but I couldn't help it. I am so worked up."

"Oh darling," I groaned looking at the outline of his erection in his very tight jeans.

It was so appealing; indeed, he was so appealing. I wanted him, but I didn't. I wanted his arms round me, my body against his and his cock squashing into my tummy, but I didn't. I wanted to see my son's swollen cock and hold it and, no I couldn't even think that. I was torn, the conflict was enormous. For months, maybe years I had fantasised about my son and had dreamed of being in this position. I had imagined this happening, but had not thought about my feelings if it did happen, other than my sexual arousal. I had savoured the physical aspect of my son and me, but not the emotional one and that was getting at me right now. I should have the resolve, the self-control and the fortitude to resist, but I hadn't got it and that filled me with guilt and shame.

We stood close together not catching the other's eyes. We didn't speak for some time. My sensible, motherly, wifely and respectable side said 'Stop it, move away, do nothing else.' The woman in me argued 'Let him have you, make love to him, have sex with your son.

"We need to talk Peter."

"Yes."

"Very seriously."

"I know."

"How about I call up Chinese and we have that and chat."

"Sure."

We agreed our meal and I phoned and it was on its way. I went to my room, put my bra and blouse back on, did my hair and rather ridiculously, yet practically changed my panties after washing my pussy. I had become quite wet with the posing, our talk and the kiss.

The food arrived twenty or so minutes later and we ate in my conservatory sitting side by side on the Chesterfield with the Chinese food on a low coffee table in front of us. The PC in a hibernation mode was opposite us and I was very aware that a light nudge would bring those photos of me up onto my very new, thirty-inch screen. That kept me on tenterhooks throughout the meal.

As it happened, we didn't talk about 'it' as we ate. We cleared up and I filled our glasses with red wine.

"So, we have to talk," I opened up as we sat back on the couch. I sat at one end my back against the arm looking at him. He was sitting in the middle of the couch leaning forward his arms resting on his knees.