I laid the pictures out, side by side, on the edge of my parents bed. My cock was already hard enough to pound nails. It took awhile to dig them out each time, but it was totally worth it.
I can't even remember what I'd been looking for, or maybe I'd just been snooping. Either way, I'd been in my parents closet when I shouldn't have been. I'd thought it strange there was a cardboard box hidden under a stack of my dad's sweaters. Obviously, I couldn't leave it alone. Opening it changed my life.
There'd been some letters on top. Each had my mom's familiar curly handwriting. As I pulled out the stack of them, the pictures hidden underneath captured my attention. Later, when curiosity got the better of me, I did read what she'd written.
My dad had been given an amazing opportunity shortly after I'd just started my first year of grade school. His boss had asked him to oversee a major expansion for the company out west. The project kept him gone for over a year. The letters and photos were from his time away.
They weren't love letters. Each was a detailed account of how horny my mom was for him and all the things she did to cure herself of it. She mostly wrote about making herself come, but there were a couple where she described having sex with other men. Apparently, they'd had an open relationship while he was away, or at the very least, my mom had certain permissions.
The day I found the box, I'd jerked off kneeling on their closet floor. It had taken all of two minutes for the naked pictures of my mom to make me blow my load. There were at least 30. Different angles, different body parts, full body nudes, full body with her dressed in lingerie sexier than I'd seen in any porn, and close ups of her most intimate places.
I was a senior in high school then so I rarely had enough alone time to pull the pictures out whenever I wanted. I would lay in my bed at night and try to call to mind each one. Before long, I was laying in bed thinking of how good my mom still looked, wondering how her body had changed over the course of 13 years. That led to often getting hard while we were in the same room together. A night with my parents, in front of the tv, was torture for me.
I wanted to fuck my mom. Two years after finding the pictures they still occupied my thoughts. Luckily, my college schedule was unusual enough that I had a lot more alone time in the house during the day. I may have even orchestrated it while picking the courses I would take.
I had three favorites that came out of the box every time. One was a close up of her juicy pussy. It was so shiny with her own wetness it had to have been taken after she'd come. The next was a full body photo of her, completely naked, lying on her back, her legs spread to reveal her shaved pussy, pushing her sexy tits together. Lastly was one of her face. It wasn't the face she wore around me, though. Her eyes were glassy and hooded, her lips were open like she was panting through them, and her skin was sweaty and flushed pink. More than anything I wanted to put that look on my mom's face.
I yanked down my boxers and stepped out of them. Standing naked next to my mom's side of their massive bed, I took myself in hand and began stroking my cock. All I could think about was fucking her. Feeling her wet heat wrap around me while I sucked on her hard nipples.
"I want you, Mom," I whispered to her face. My fist moved faster over my cock. Something about talking dirty to my absent mother always made heat flash through my bloodstream. "I want to fuck you so hard. Pound my cock inside you. Oh fuck, I bet your pussy feels good."
I continued to work up to a mind numbing orgasm, totally unaware of what was going to happen.
----
I was too upset to work which bothered me even more. My husband's words from the night before paraded through my brain on a constant loop.
"I didn't mean for it to happen, Jilly. I love her."
For years Kurt and I had tried to keep our passion for each other alive. Our most recent trick, one I'd foolishly thought was working, was to have an open marriage wherein we could both sleep with other people, provided we were home with each other every night. But Kurt had gone and fallen in love with one of his girlfriends.
"I want to be with her," he'd said, looking at me with pity. I'm sure he felt bad for going back on our promise that no one would come between us. No one would become more important to us than we were to each other. People think women fall in love too quickly. Too easily. It's not necessarily the case. The grass is always greener for men like my husband.
It had taken my supervisor all of ten minutes to guage my heartache. I'd spent almost an hour pouring my heart out to the woman before she insisted I go home and rest.
On the way, my thoughts were about Tyson, our son. He was old enough to hear the whole story, I just didn't want him to be angry with me. Again, men get treated differently in these sorts of situations. Women are expected to be loyal and dutiful. At least that was the case when my parents were both unfaithful, though they were trying to hide their affairs from one another. I'd watched as more people comforted my father through the divorce and villainized my mom.
My face was still wet with tears as I made my way down the hall to my bedroom.
"Mom," Tyson groaned. Was he hurt? My heart immediately started pounding. "Oh fuck! Fuck!"
I ran into my room, slamming to a halt when I saw my twenty year old son, naked, bent over the edge of my bed. He was masturbating, orgasming, ejacualating into the fabric of his underwear.
His eyes met mine, both of us shocked. He covered himself with his boxers, but his hips still jerked as he rushed to finish coming. I diverted my eyes.
The box we'd kept hidden in our closet was sitting on the floor at his feet. Photo after photo of me was arranged on top of my comforter. Oh God, the pictures. The letters! My skin heated with shame. My hand moved up to cover my mouth and attempt to hold in my fresh sob. It failed.
"Mom?" Tyson whispered, out of breath.
I couldn't look at him. I couldn't face him or anything about the last 16 hours of my life. I ran.
----
"Mom!" I yelled after her while I struggled with what to do. I was naked. If I took the underwear away, I'd be covered in my own cum.
I wanted to shove everything back in the box and hide it away like I could deny what I'd done. What she saw. But that was foolish. There was no going back. What bothered me more than my embarrassment was her reaction.
Without anymore thought I ran after her, but I heard a door slam before I even made it down the hall. The large living room window revealed her car, backing down the driveway quickly and launching down the road.
Why was she home? And where the fuck was she going? Her face flashed behind my lids. She'd been flushed and her lips had been parted, but damn it, not from pleasure. And she'd been crying. Her cheeks were wet, the collar of her shirt soaked. That wasn't from discovering me. That was something else.
"Fuck!" I yelled again. What the fuck was going on?
I ran back down the hall to the bathroom and threw my boxers in the sink. Grabbing a towel, I swiped furiously at my groin trying to erase the evidence of my transgression. The dry texture was rough on my sensitive cock, but I did my best to ignore it. I'd just come in front of my mother. To pictures of my mother. Jesus.
I crossed the hall to my room and to my phone still sitting next to my unmade bed. I found mom's number and pressed the icon to connect. I had no fucking clue what to say but I was scared. My heart was pounding, I still hadn't caught my breath, and I was a hell of a lot sweatier than I would typically be from just jerking off.
"Hi, you've reached Jill. I can't take..."
I ended the call and texted her instead.
Me: Come home, please. I know you're upset. I want to talk. I'm so sorry, Mom.
Minutes passed. I pulled on sweats and a tshirt.
Me: Please call me if you don't want to come home yet.
Still, nothing.
Me: Why were you crying? Did something bad happen?
I was afraid Grandma had died or something. Or God, my dad. I couldn't imagine, or didn't want to, my mom getting terrible news only to come home and see me jacking off to her biggest secret. I was feeling like a shit human being. Finally, my phone vibrated.
Mom: No, nothing like you're thinking.
Me: Mom, I'm so sorry.
Mom: It's ok, honey. I'm just really embarrassed. Ashamed actually.
Fuck this, I thought. I'm calling her.
The phone rang several times. I was sure she wasn't going to pick up, but then she did. "Hey."
"Why are you ashamed, Mom? I should be."
"I just... did you read the letters, honey?"
"Yeah."
I could hear her crying and again, I felt like shit.
"I'm sorry, baby. I just missed your dad so much. I never wanted you to find out about that."
"Mom, it's not... I mean, it doesn't make me think any less of you."
"It doesn't?"
"God, no. I... Can you please come home so we can talk about it?"
My own humiliation forgotten, I just wanted to make her feel better. My mom could literally do no wrong. I wanted her to understand that unconditional love went both ways.
"I'm on my way to your father's office."
I felt like I was going to puke. "Please don't tell him."
"No, Tyson. I won't. I'm not going because of... that."
I relaxed a little bit, but not much. She could be lying. Her and Dad obviously had secrets. What if she told him, but asked him not to say or do anything?
"Do you promise? It's not... I'm just really embarrassed, Mom. I'm so sorry."
"Oh honey, don't worry about that. It's just between us, I promise."
She let me go and I tried to go on with my day. I put their box back, showered and dressed, and went to my 11am lecture. I didn't hear a thing my Econ professor said.
Mom texted me around 2:00.
Mom: Can you be home for dinner tonight. Around 6?
Sure, was all I said, but my head was spinning with dread and suspicion. I hadn't recieved a request to be home for dinner since high school. She often asked if I would be, but rarely expressed my need to be.
They walked in together. Dad was carrying bags of take out. Mom was following him with her eyes still puffy and her cheeks still red. Shit, I thought. But it wasn't at all what I'd feared.
----
"Are you ok?"
She nodded. "I will be, honey."
We were sitting on the couch. They'd explained their split over eggrolls and then my dad packed a small bag and left.
"I'm sorry he hurt you."
"It's complicated. When he told me, I was very hurt. I think I'm just disappointed though."
"How come?"
"We wouldn't have had an open relationship if things between us were still good. We were attempting to keep our marriage worth it. Like, giving ourselves a way to tolerate staying together. And it was always a possibility that one of us would get attached to our other partners. We were willing to risk that. I guess I just feel like our plan failed. And I'm really scared that we hurt you."
"You didn't. Don't feel that way. I'm sad for you. i don't want you to be unhappy. But if you both end up in a better place, I'll be fine."
