All Characters Depicted In This Content Are Fictional & Of Legal Age (18 Or Older).
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It's been three years since the bombs dropped. That night my husband woke us and rushed us into our backyard bomb shelter. I remember the sky was orange on the horizon all around us as we ran through the wet grass to the doors of the shelter. I grabbed my son and ran in, a feeling of safety washing over me. My husband called out that he would be back in an hour, he needed to get something. "You son of a bitch!" I yelled after him as he slammed the door shut. I knew full well the "something" he had to get was my younger sister he had obsessed over since the day we met. He must not have made it to my mother's house because he never came back. He locked the door from the outside as well, leaving us trapped in here forever. Unless someone finds us. Better in here then out there I suppose.
My husband had finished the shelter and stocked it with enough food to last a hundred years, guns and ammunition, furniture and used it as storage for our Christmas decorations. But other than that we had nothing. No TVs, no computers, no movies, no games, nothing. So, for the last three years my son and I have been in this bomb shelter with absolutely nothing to do. Three Christmas's with no presents, three birthdays with no cake, three fucking years with nothing! It has been very hard to watch my son suffer over the years. He feels abandoned by his father, and he is so pent-up with emotion and hormones that I'm afraid he will explode soon. We are coming up on our fourth Christmas in the shelter, and I am determined to make this Christmas worth something for my son. I don't know how, but this year my son will have a present under that stupid plastic tree, I have stared at for three years!
"Mom, it's so hot in here! I'm going to die!" Billy said wiping sweat off his face.
"I know sweetheart, mommy is dying too." I looked at my son sitting across from me on the floor, sweat running down his body. "Take your Santa hat off dear, that will cool you off. If you have to, strip down to your underwear like mommy." I was already down to my night-shirt and panties. The heat was so oppressive, I would be naked if not for my son.
"I'm too hot to move!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms and legs out in a gesture of defeat. I decided to change the subject. One more word about how hot it is, and I was going to scream.
"Are you ready for Christmas tomorrow morning dear?" I said, not expecting the answer I got.
"Fuck Christmas!" He growled.
"Hey! Watch your language young man!" I growled back. He paid my protest no mind and just spoke over me.
"Why? What does it matter? Christmas sucks! Nothing ever happens. We are just going to lay here dying of heat just like every other day. God, I can't stop sweating!" He finished, wiping sweat off his forehead and flinging it off his hands towards me. I could see he was starting to get angry.
" I know dear, I can't stop sweating either." I looked down at my shirt drenched, almost translucent now. My Son is going to get a free titty show I mused.
"That's okay mom, I like it when you sweat."
"What?" I spit out in shock cutting him off. "You like it when I sweat?" He looked at me eagerly.
"Yeah, when ever you are in the living room sweating, this smell fills the air. I don't know why, but it smells really good to me." I looked down at my shirt and panties, both were soaked in sweat, but my panties were drenched, and I immediately knew what smell he was talking about. Embarrassed I stammered on.
"I'm sorry sweetheart, I know mommy is stinky down there. I will try not to smell so much, baby, I'm sorry." He looked at me with confusion on his face.
"No Mom, I said I like it. I like the smell. I wish I could smell it all the time. I wish I could smell it closer." I couldn't believe my ears, he wants to smell it closer? With a look of shock and horror on my face I continued, determined to figure out what he was really trying to say.
"You want to smell it closer? What do you mean dear?" I said looking at the floor, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. He didn't hesitate to answer, almost eager to be telling me.
"I wish I could smell it closer, like stick my face up against you and smell it closer." Now I was at a loss for words. After a minute of silence, looking down at my legs, I worked up the courage to speak again.
"Baby? You do know that the smell you are talking about is coming from mommy's vagina and anus right? From my crotch? That smell is a dirty smell. It's not good. People get smelly down there, both girls and boys. Thais why we need to wash down there often." It was hard to stay clean in the shelter. I didn't know how much water we had, so I made the decision that we would only take sponge baths. It meant never feeling shower fresh, but I would prefer that to dying of thirst.
As I looked up at my son, I noticed his clothes were drenched in sweat too. My memory was then jogged of a familiar smell in the air on hot days. A pleasant smell, a smell I too have inhaled wantingly, and then It clicked in my head. That smell was my son's body odor, the smell of my son's dick. I choked, almost throwing up acid in my mouth. I can't believe it! I am attracted to the smell of my son's dirty cock and my son is attracted to the smell of my dirty pussy!
"I know that mom. I still like the smell, I can't help it. It makes me feel these weird feelings. I like it, I want to smell it, I wish I could stick my face in it right now!" He cut in as my head was spinning from the revelation. I pulled myself together knowing I had to shut this down immediately. I could not have my son lusting after the smell of my stinky pussy!
"Billy! Do you realize what you just said? You want to stick your face in your mother's crotch?" I could see he was starting to get mad now. His cheeks turned red as anger shot across his face.
"I hate it here!" He screamed, "I never get anything here, the one thing I tell you I want, you yell at me for!" I knew I had to do something to calm him down, he is ready to explode and I just lit the fuse.