It was near midnight when Jeri jerked awake from a fitful sleep. She sat up in bed, wired. Her neck and face were flushed. Her nightgown was damp with sweat. At nearly fifty years old hot flashes were not uncommon for her, but she knew this wasn't a hot flash. Her nipples were so hard they ached and she could smell her own musky arousal. The details of the dream had already retreated, leaving her with just the impression that it was intensely erotic.
She laid back again, gathering the front of her nightgown over her hips. She slipped her hand under the waistband of her panties and felt the sticky wetness soaking her pubic hair. Her manicured finger brushed her swollen clit and sent a shockwave of pleasure through her. She slid her hand even lower, making sure to maintain pressure on her clit and stroked through her labia, coating her fingers in pussy juice.
Her other hand slid over her nightgown, across the swell of her smallish breasts. She found her sensitive nipple distended with arousal. She pinched and twisted the nipple hard. The pain amplified the pleasure of two slick fingers penetrating her.
Her mind wandered to memories of her husband, Peter. Her back arched as an electric tingle traveled from her breasts down her spine and into her pussy. She Imagined he was with her again. They were his fingers pulling and twisting, bringing her to inexorable release while he drove his other fingers into her. She could hear him whispering encouragement, telling her how much he wanted her to cum.
Beads of sweat formed on her face and neck. She pulled her fingers out long enough to peel off the cotton panties and fling them to the other side of her king bed. She bent her knee up and swung her hip out for a better angle to finger fuck herself deeper and harder.
She struggled to keep her moans of pleasure muted as her fingertips groped for the sensitive skin of her g-spot. Even in the throes of passion, she was aware of Dale in the next room. The shame she felt at the idea of her son hearing his mother get herself off intensified the sensations her fingers created.
The room filled with squishing noises as she mauled herself, desperately reaching for the crest of her orgasm. One hand flew in and out of her pussy while the other switched between her breasts to pinch, pull, and twist her nipples. She was nearly there. The wet smacking sound of her fingers driving her to completion were joined by full throated moans of passion. Thoughts of trying to hide what she was doing from her son were replaced by thoughts of what he would do if he was listening.
She imagined Dale laying naked on his bed in the next room. He was stroking his long, hard cock as the sound of his wanton mother's frantic rush to pleasure penetrated the shared wall. The voice whispering encouragement had become the moans of her son, begging her to cum with him. Visualizing her son's eruption made her entire body clench as her fingers drove deep into her grasping pussy one final time. The hand on her breast spasmed, squeezing harder than she thought possible. She saw spots. A long, breathless "FUCK!" escaped her lips as her orgasm pulled her down into oblivion.
She had no idea how long she was out when she came back to reality. She was still breathing heavily but her body completely relaxed into the bed. The hand that fucked her was limp between her legs, moist fingers slipped free of her pussy's orgasmic grip. Her breast was sore from the spasms of her other hand. She laid in bed, luxuriating in satiation. It may not have been the most intense orgasm she ever experienced, but it was glorious. She chose not to dwell on why the orgasm was so powerful.
She reached for her phone on the nightstand. It was nearly one in the morning. She was no longer wired but still not tired. She needed a drink of water. She swung her legs out of bed and her toes found the fuzzy interior of her slippers. She stood up and straightened her nightgown.
She left her room and headed down the hallway, taking care not to make noise in case Dale was asleep. She saw a sliver of dim light cut across the hallway from her son's bedroom. As she got closer, she could hear him talking. His door was open a couple of inches. She thought of sticking her head in to check on him, but something made her stop and listen.
Through the gap between the door and frame, she could see that Dale was in bed covered by his bedsheet. His tablet was propped on his stomach, bathing his face and bare chest in soft light. He was talking to someone, but his earbuds were in so she couldn't hear who was on the other side of the connection.
