It was 5:15 on a Thursday. I had just left the office and was driving across town to my book club meeting at 6:00.
"Son of a bitch!" I exclaimed to one in particular as I realized I what I forgot: Leah's shoes. She had let me borrow a pair of gold strappy sandals for a wedding I had attended a month ago. I had forgotten to bring them back to her for the last three weeks of our book club meetings. I decided there was no way I could flake on returning them again, so I exited the highway and headed toward my house. I figured I would still be able to arrive at the event more or less on time.
I pulled into the driveway next to my son Jake's car. He is nineteen and a sophomore in college, currently home for summer break. My mind was on autopilot: "Okay Elena, you need to make a beeline for the shoes which are on the floor beside your dresser, and hightail it out of there to get to book club by 6:00."
Being so 'in the zone,' it took me a moment to register the strange sounds I heard upon walking through the back kitchen door. Loud wailing and rhythmic grunting seemed to fill the entire first floor, but my brain did not connect the dots until my vision registered the source of the noise.
Displayed on my 60" wall-mounted TV was a pornographic scene in which a muscular young stud was railing an older woman. He had her bent over at the waist, holding onto her backward-stretched arms at the wrists. He was ramming his absurdly large dick up her twat from behind, his balls loudly slapping off her puffy slit.
"Ohhhhh yessss! Fuck me, son! Fuck Mommy's pussy!" The MILF screamed as she looked back at her fucker.
Still in abject shock, my head turned to see Jake on the loveseat. He was naked. He had turned to look at me. He had a pair of blue panties with orange polka-dots wrapped around his cock. I happened to know that those panties were made of silk. We stared at each other, frozen in open-jawed surprise, for what felt like five minutes but was probably more like five seconds.
"Oh my god, Mom," Jake cried, "I thought you—"
"Shit!" I interrupted, "I'm leaving!" I said as I fled out of the door I had just come in.
I peeled out of the driveway and sped out of our neighborhood, my thoughts racing even faster than my car. I had not retrieved Leah's shoes and was in no state of mind to share thoughtful commentary on a lackluster historical fiction book anyway. So I drove around the city for an hour and a half, ruminating about the appalling scene I had walked into earlier. I understood that my son had needs—hell, we all do! But how could Jake be so brazen? So reckless? He had a laptop and a smartphone; why couldn't he rub one out in the privacy of his bedroom like the rest of us?
Mostly, I was trying to figure out how to handle this delicate situation. On the one hand, I had to nip Jake's audacious living room wanks in the bud. But on the other hand, I didn't want to shame him any more than was necessary. There were a couple of things I kept getting stuck on, though. One was Jake's use of my panties—yesterday's used panties—as a masturbation aide. The other was an image my mind wanted to deny, but kept resurfacing. During the interminable moment that we stared at each other in shock, Jake kept slowly pumping his panty-wrapped cock.
I dreaded the possibility of having to face Jake when I returned home, but I couldn't drive aimlessly forever. Luckily, when I walked back in the house, he was in his room. I grabbed a protein bar out of the cupboard for dinner and hid in my room as well. I just couldn't face that conversation. I'd have to tackle it the next day.
Feeling somehow dirty from the evening's turn of events, I took off my work clothes and started the shower. As I waited for the hot water to kick in, I caught my reflection in the mirror. My light hazel eyes stared back at me. Not bad for an almost-40-year-old, I thought. At 5'4", I worked out and kept myself relatively fit. My caramel-colored hair grazed my collarbone and complimented the rosy-brown nipples on my grapefruit-sized tits. I did not have much body hair to begin with, but my little pubic bush was tidily trimmed. I wondered if I was a "MILF," then forcefully pushed the thought out of my head, due to its connection to the shit-show earlier.
In any case, I was still attractive, I thought as I stepped into the steamy shower. As I often did around this time of night, I started thinking I should make more effort to date. I hadn't made it a priority since Jake's father left ten years ago. I'd been dating more since Jake went off to college, but it only amounted to short-term things that fizzled out and a few mediocre one-night-stands.
I sighed and continued with the next step in my nightly routine. After lathering myself with body wash, I began massaging my tits, then let my fingers migrate downward. I unhooked the handheld shower sprayer from its base on the wall and slid it up and down the front, then the back of my body. I leaned back and braced myself on the corner of the bathtub. I thought about that tasty chap from the Aquaman movie and positioned the showerhead directly below my pussy. I adjusted the setting to "massage" and enjoyed the stronger pulses of water on my clit.
My sexual proclivity tends toward submission, so I usually fantasize about a strong man taking control of me in some form or fashion. I was deep into a fantasy and the long-haired Aqua-stud was pounding my cunt from behind. I had the water pressure just right, my pussy was hot, and I was about to get the orgasm I needed. I imagined looking back at the beefcake fucking me as I started to cum, but instead saw the lust-dazed face of my son. I immediately recoiled from my horny reverie and my orgasm died on the vine. I was left with my pelvis humping fruitlessly into the cascading water. I went to bed unsatisfied.
********************
Having tossed and turned more than I slept that night, I woke the next morning feeling exhausted and crabby. I also woke up late, leaving me no time to masturbate to rectify the loss of last night's climax. If I get turned on and for whatever reason can't cum, I stay in an extremely horny and frustrated state until I get release. On top of all this, I was dreading the talk I would need to have with Jake that evening. But my busy work day provided sufficient distraction, and my mood eventually leveled out.
When I returned home, Jake was eating a sandwich at the kitchen table. Seeing me enter, he picked up his plate and tried to duck out of the kitchen.
"Jake, sit down. Let's chat," I said.
He sat, looking down at the table. "I don't know what you want me to say, Mom."
"Well," I started, with a touch of sarcasm, "You can start by explaining what possessed you to blare porn on the living room TV, while... having a go at yourself... on the loveseat!"
"I'm sorry Mom, I thought you had book club. I didn't mean for you to see me," Jake replied.
"I understand that you have a healthy sex drive, Jake, and I'm not trying to demonize you for that. But the whole way you were going about it last night was completely inappropriate," I said.
"I know it was a bit... over the top," Jake said. "But you can't possibly imagine how horny I am constantly. I thought it would get easier over summer break, but it hasn't. My last semester was really tough and stressful. There are so many hot girls everywhere on campus, and a lot of them want my... erm... they come on to me. But I knew there was no way I'd pass calculus, let alone physics, if I was chasing tail. Seriously Mom, it was really hard."
Jake's last sentence caught me off guard for a second, until I put it on context of his previous words. I mentally shook off the word "hard" that lingered in my head. Then I sat silent to contemplate the dilemma he faced at school. Poor Jakey was having to fight off the pussy with a stick, it sounded like. My mirth turned into sympathy when I saw the forlorn look on his face.
Jake really was growing into a fine specimen. He got his height and broad chest and shoulders from his father. He stood a little over 6', and built his physique playing football in high school. He wasn't on any sport team in college, but was obviously doing something to stay in shape. His sandy blond hair had grown a little shaggy. His deep brown eyes and chiseled jaw line really rounded out the package. I supposed I was seeing Jake not as my little boy, but as a man for the first time. It was disconcerting, particularly in light of last night's mishap.
