Public Mother Cum Facial

Perspective: The Mother

My new client has a sex addiction. The public will never expect this because she's a famous actress with a wholesome reputation. Her name is Eliana and she's a beautiful Greek woman. I'm a big fan, but I don't tell her that.

We're in my downtown Colorado office and she's staying in the city for two months filming a low-budget drama. She reached out to me because I'm one of the best therapists in the country regarding sexual trauma.

She speaks about recent issues while I admire her wavy black hair and olive skin. Her prominent nose and cheekbones. She's mesmerizing. Athletic. Gorgeous. I take notes whenever she says anything important. This is our third session together.

There are twists and turns to what Eliana is saying. It's clear that she wants to be understood. Pain? Regret? Grief? She tells me about her sex life and regular orgasms but I sense it's the tip of the iceberg.

"There's no greater apex for a woman, than being a servant to her son."

Eliana lets the mood linger after saying those words. She gauges my reaction because that statement would shock the average person's conscience. I remain composed, though I've never heard this in my office before.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask.

She's spoken about her son before; a 26 year old fireman who lives near her Malibu home. I'm aware of the statistics regarding mother/son incest and I brace myself to hear something provocative.

"I have a sexual relationship with him," Eliana says, biting her lower lip. "It started after he moved to college. It's a long story, but I want to tell someone. It's a huge burden I've been carrying for years."

There's relief on her face because I'm not disgusted. Relief that I'm willing to understand and listen. In the end, people just want to feel normal.

"Was there anything that caused it to happen?" I ask. "Or was it the result of your sex addiction?"

"It was a slow simmer. Once I saw him as a man -- when he became strong and was able to care for himself -- I developed sexual feelings. My sex addiction? Yeah, I think so. I know this isn't normal."

We have 40 minutes left and it's my first time listening to an active incest relationship. Eliana tells me about their twice-a-week sex sessions at her Malibu home. She discusses having her son inside her and 'the flooding' of her womb.

She attends swinger groups with other celebrities, but her son is the favorite. I sense that from the tone of her voice and the details of her body language.

"Does this bother you?" Eliana asks me.

"No, my job is to..."

She cuts me off. "Sorry, let me clarify. I meant personally. I see pictures of your son on the desk. How does this make you feel as a mother?"

On my desk there's a picture of Billy -- my 19 year old son that lives with me.

"My feelings are irrelevant," I say. "I'm trying to understand you."

"Be honest. Please. I want to hear this. Do you think I'm gross? Do I belong in prison for fucking my son in every room of my house?"

"Both of you are consenting adults."

Eliana pleads, "Be honest. I want to hear it."

Her insecurity is on full display. What must the world think if they knew? The beloved Eliana, television and film star, screwing her firefighter son. She'd be 'canceled' for sure. Fired from all of her jobs. She'd never appear on a major network or film studio again if this were public.

As a prominent liberal activist, it's a foregone conclusion that she'll have to close her Twitter and Instagram pages because of the inevitable trolling. The jokes and nasty comments that she's an abuser would be endless. Particularly because she's a prominent #MeToo supporter.

In my office she's safe. These four walls are her sanctuary.

"My opinion is that you're seeking comfort," I say. "The nearest source of comfort is your son. I get it. We'll have to work on this."

It's one of the few times I've ever lied to a client. The truth is, I think it's gross and perverse. In no way do I think it's healthy, which is why I plan on helping her as much as possible.

But at the same time, I'm intrigued. Human sexuality is full of interesting pleasures.

"You can be a little more honest with me," she says in a small voice, a far cry from her strong on-screen personas.

I look at her. This experience must be nerve-wracking for her. I know it must be difficult to admit such embarrassing things. I tell her my feelings on the matter, that she's a normal woman with issues that can be solved. I promise to do my best with our future appointments.

The session is almost over. We both look at the clock. I have another client later and Eliana has to get to the movie set. We stand up and she smiles. I smile back.

"Thanks for your time," she says. "This was... intense."

"It's part of the healing process. Intense feelings are a good sign."

There's a warmth in her eyes. She trusts me, but this feels like a different level of trust compared to my other clients. I now possess a secret that would create a global scandal and rock the entertainment industry.

When the actress leaves, I have limited time before my next appointment and I decide to do research on this topic.

Keywords include: mom, mother, son, sex, statistics, stories.

I use a combination for each search, and sure enough, most of the results are pornographic with a few news articles in between. None of this surprises me because I'm aware of how massive this fetish is. I bookmark several links.

Most incest trauma that's studied is father/daughter. Looking at a few statistics, mother/son incest exists but it's rarely reported.

Perhaps I'll do a comprehensive study on this topic for a peer-reviewed publication. I've won several awards and there are plaques that decorate my wall. I know this topic will be the most taboo thing I've ever researched, but I like the risk and reward that comes with it.

On my laptop screen is the picture of a 'hot mom' porn star with a younger man, who poses as her son. They're having sex on the living room couch with the 'mom' riding on top. There's a caption on the picture saying a mother is giving education.

Then I think of my own son. In many ways, Billy has always been an informal assistant of mine. Whenever I write something for a peer-reviewed journal, I dive deep, and my son helps organize mountains of information and notes. In exchange, I give him money. A fair trade and he gets job experience.

Would I be okay with him being on this journey? Maybe.

***

Towards the evening, I leave my office and walk the downtown street. There's light snow, which is pretty. I clear my mind of the patients I've seen, except for Eliana and her secret incest situation.

Speaking of which, I'm meeting family and friends at a restaurant a few blocks away, where they are celebrating a personal matter. My son is there talking with cousins. They're close and that makes me happy. Family time is supposed to be wholesome and pure.

Food is served and I'm sitting with adults my age, while my eyes drift towards my son at the other table. I try putting myself in Eliana's shoes, no matter how taboo. As a therapist, this is key to understanding each patient. To understand their goals, needs, trauma, insecurities, and desires.

Every so often I speak to my sister or anyone else at the table. The current topic of the evening is politics and inflation. I'm thankful that a guy sitting next to me works in finances, because he does most of the talking, while I find myself thinking of my son's cock.

What must it be like for a mother to touch, feel, and taste? How twisted. How out of character for me. But no one will ever know these thoughts.

The meal is finished and everyone goes outside and the conversations are still flowing. Eventually we hug and kiss and everyone goes their separate ways.

My apartment is a few blocks away (isn't living in the downtown area great?). I walk alongside my son as the light snow continues to fall.

"Do you love me?" I ask.

He laughs. "How much wine did you drink?"

"It's a legitimate question. Do you?"

"Yeah, of course, I love you. Why are you asking?"

Billy seems perplexed, yet amused. I don't blame him. It's such a random question while we walk together.

"I love you, too," I say. "This is for work. I'm thinking of writing something."

"Anything interesting?"

"Oh yes, very interesting. It's in the early stages though."

"Honestly, you acted weird all night," he says.

"Did I?"

"Yeah, it was like you were daydreaming. I noticed it a few times when I looked over at your table."

"There's a lot on my mind," I reply.

"Let me guess, a client inspired you."

I laugh. "You know me too well."

We enter the apartment building. Before we get into the elevator, I decide that I'm going to commit to this research. There's a final roadblock, which is my son's approval and reaction. The feeling is nagging in my mind.

I enter the elevator behind my son and I tell him to push the button.

While he's doing that, I push my coat aside and lift the front of my blouse. My fingers pull the white bra to reveal a medium-sized breast. I hope he enjoys the sight of a large pink nipple. It's just for him today.

"Billy, turn around."

When he turns around, Billy sees my erect pink nipple. It's his first (and only) time seeing it as an adult. I hold my clothes so he can keep looking. As expected, he's flabbergasted, but he doesn't stop me. He's stunned. His jaw is hanging.

"What are you doing?" he asks, eyes on my nipple.

"Nothing," I reply, hiding my shame and excitement.

I pull my clothes down, leaving my outfit creased and messy, since we're almost at our apartment. He's shocked as hell, but I just look forward. I don't bother to give him an explanation and he doesn't ask.

He knows I can be obsessive.

***

We do our normal things inside the apartment, though I'm sure Billy is still bewildered. A part of me wonders if he's going to jerk off at some point. I hope he doesn't. I try not to think about that.

Either way, I got what I wanted from that elevator experiment. I do my normal things for the night. That includes skincare, Netflix, emails, texts, and of course my work.

I try to figure out what I can do for Eliana, but the answer eludes me. I wonder if her being a celebrity makes this harder for me. I'm still somewhat starstruck.

My computer is again loaded with mom/son porn. This will be part of my life for the foreseeable future. Some of the images intrigue me. It's the amateur photos and videos that strike a chord; older woman with a younger man, performing sexual acts at home. Obviously they're not related, but it's labeled that way for more views.

Before using the bathroom to brush my teeth and do a final skincare routine, I masturbate. Something quick and heavy in front of the computer. I watch homemade porn of a 'mother and son' engaging in sexual practices. I cum into a tissue watching incest material for the first time in my life.

My day ends while laying in bed watching Marco Pierre White cooking instructionals on youtube with earphones. I'm undecided on what kind of music I want to listen to before I sleep. I'm thinking Leonard Cohen, live recordings on Spotify.

There's an email notification on my phone from Eliana. I hadn't expected to hear from her so soon and I become alert. There are 7 images attached to her email and I open them. What I see is a revelation.

There are pictures taken from a phone camera. Images of sex, from the front and behind. I see a young man's cock going into the body of an olive-skinned woman. I see long dark hair that's wavy. By all indications, this appears to be Eliana, but I'm not sure. I also wonder if this is her son. There are no faces on these images. They could be anyone.

Another email comes. I wonder if it'll answer my question and reveal their faces. I see images of the olive-skinned woman riding on the same cock. I see full-frontal breasts with dark nipples and dark hair that roams around the chest.

The pics appear to be taken in a bungalow near the beach. Could she have gone with her son on vacation for a romantic sex getaway? The thought makes me aroused and gives me the need to masturbate again.

Instead of emailing her, I decide to text because they usually get a faster response. I think carefully about what to type. It's my first time getting pornographic images from a client, much less an actress who claims to be fucking her son.

Text:

Is that really you? Looks like it could be anyone

I regret sending that. It's out of character for me because I pride myself on being composed with each communication with a client.

While waiting, I look at the pictures again. The more I look, the more I'm convinced it's her in these images.

She texts me back:

Is this real enough for you?

I wait a few seconds, then she texts me a picture of herself standing next to her son. They're at the airport in a tropical location. Her son has a white complexion, matching the skin color in the sex pictures.

The next picture shows Eliana with her son at a ski resort. They're in the lobby wearing thick jackets, smiling next to each other. They look happy and I wonder if sex is on their mind. Something no one would ever suspect of them.

My heart nearly skips a beat at the next image; Eliana is dressed in a different outfit, perhaps later that day, and she's on her knees. I assume they're in the hotel room because there's a hard cock in front of her face. Her son is stroking it. Eliana's hair is pulled back, chin lifted, and her eyes are closed.

She texts me:

Last one with my face

A final image is texted to me. Eliana is wearing the same clothes as the picture on her knees. Only this time, she's standing on a ski slope, smiling at the camera. She's ready to ski down a hill as she poses.

I zoom on her face. There's cum on her cheeks and chin. Maybe her nose, but she's wearing ski goggles so it's hard to tell. Eliana got a cum facial from her son and went outside wearing that cum. Looking at the background, there are plenty of other people there.

What a wonderful thought (for lack of a better term). I imagine the famous actress walking through the small crowd at the lobby and on the ski slopes. The goggles keep her celebrity status a secret. The whiteness of the snow makes the cum facial difficult to notice. The cum on her face blends with the white atmosphere.

I text back:

Thank you. These will remain confidential, of course

My response is formal but I'm awestruck at the situation. I know my career and personal life will change because of this. Real incest. Right in the palm of my hand, as I look at the cum facial picture on my phone.

Given the time, I put my phone away. Tomorrow is busy and my mind is too frenzied to masturbate. Instead I lay on the pillow and think about Eliana with her son. The cum facial. Then I think about my own son. Billy. Would he ever do that to me? Would my son cross that line?

It's the last thing I think about before I go to sleep.

Perspective: The Client

My therapist is more than a normal therapist. We've become quite close in the four weeks that we've known each other. I tell her everything. She tells me everything in return. For me, it's therapeutic. For her, it's curiosity and business.

Dr. Patterson has flashed her son around the house and I'm the only person in the world who knows about it (well, aside from her son, of course). The point is, we know things about each other that will always remain confidential. I love that. I love having a partner in crime. Someone who shares the same addictive and unholy desire for a son.

On a Saturday morning, when I have a break from filming, we meet at the local cafe. We're having mocha drinks and pastries for breakfast, then we're going to her office afterward. There's still much to discuss for my therapy and her research.

I dress in cheap clothes so no one recognizes me. I look much different than what you'd normally see on film or tabloids. We speak about our personal lives and normal things, so no one hears a dirty conversation about blowjobs and cum facials, which I know Dr. Patterson is thinking right now.

Mentally I undress her as we finish our food. I wonder what she looks like naked. I think about what her son sees. Those nipples. I bet they're pink nipples since she's a white woman. Whatever they are, her son Billy must be obsessed by now, jerking off feverishly to mom's prized possessions under that bra.

"Can I show you something before we go?" I say.

I take out my phone and access the gallery. Finding the right picture, I hand her the phone. She takes a look. It's a cum facial picture from months ago.

Dr. Patterson is taken aback that I'd show her this in a cafe. The cute reaction on her face is what I hoped to see. She's shocked, but she doesn't put the phone away either. She wants to look at it. Of course she does.

I may have turned her into an incest exhibitionist by accident. It's not my fault that mom/son foreplay is alluring to certain people. It's not my fault that she has a son. Maybe it's fate? Maybe we're meant to become friends and share these unique experiences with each other.

Dr. Patterson writing a major report on mom/son incest could be a great thing. It's why I'm so willing to assist however I can. Because it turns me on. Because it'll help lots of mothers and sons with what they're dealing with.

She closes the screen and hands the phone back.

"Why did you show that to me?" she asks.

"I wanted to see your reaction."

"Why?"

"Because of what you told me about your son last night," I reply.

Dr. Patterson tenses and her face turns rigid. I love these moments where I can get a genuine reaction out of her. I'm convinced that Dr. Patterson's research has taken her to dark places. She's already told me about the awkward sexual flirtations in her home.

She's admitted to wearing less around her apartment. Sometimes she'd go braless. She admitted her son's shy and horny reaction to it. As much as I'd pry for more details, she'd never share. It's her guarded secret, which I respect, but god I'm desperate to know.

"Nice picture," she says with a small smile.

We leave the cafe and walk towards her office and there's light snow. The snowfall is expected to grow in the coming days, which is what the director of my new movie wants. It also reminds me of cum facials because it's the perfect weather for such a thing.

"Tell me more about your son," I say, while walking down the bustling street.

I talk openly and casually, despite being near several other people in the downtown area, because the topic sounds so bland to the average person. Dr. Patterson knows what I'm hinting at.

She thinks for a moment, "Would you rather wait until we're in my office?"

"No. I want you to open your emotions in public."

She looks ahead as she walks. "Two nights ago I was working in my bedroom, typing on my laptop without... you know...."

Dr. Patterson discreetly hand gestures to her upper body, suggesting she worked topless. The mental image makes me fucking aroused.

"Nice," I reply. "How did that go?"

"We built up to that moment. Billy saw little things prior to that. A little of this, a little of that. But yes, he liked what he saw. Let's just say he walked back and forth outside my room. I saw his eyes peeking. The little brat."

I laugh. "What did you expect? You're an attractive mother."

"Therapists are supposed to be mundane and boring."

I lean towards her ear and whisper. "But you have blowjob-sculpted-lips."

The comment makes Dr. Patterson stop in the middle of the sidewalk for a second, before regaining her ability to move. It's like she was just electrocuted. She gulps and tries to walk normal, but I know what's going on in her head.