Author's note: This idea started as custom video request for Bettie Bondage. But, I ended up fleshing it out so much that I wrote it down as a two-part, quick jerk story. So, apologies if it's a bit heavy on expository dialogue and quicker to the action than my other stuff. The hope was that this would give me the momentum to get back into writing longer works.
The first part is told from the Mother's point of view, and the second from the Son's. It deals with cheating, degradation, male muscle worship, and, of course, incest.
All characters in this story are above the age of consent.
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"Do I need to wear underwear with these?" I asked myself, looking down at my first pair of yoga pants. "Nah." I shook my head, stripping off my panties and tossing them aside.
I was late to the Lululemon basic bitch crowd. A few weeks ago, I'd been invited to a girls' night out party, which of course ended up being a thinly veiled bait and switch for the host's newest multi-level marketing scheme. Buy my overpriced wares or I'll write mean texts about you in the elite group chat you're not included on. Suburban cunts.
Three glasses of red wine, several bites of unidentifiable charcuterie -- that I was assured were exotic and very expensive -- and $160 later, I was now the proud owner of my first pair of yoga pants. Don't get me wrong, I worked out frequently. But, my husband had always been a bit... Well... A bit overprotective. He didn't like when I wore anything revealing. Nagging me incessantly about what others must be thinking. And after pulling these on and examining myself in the mirror? I get it.
They were practically painted on to the curves of my body. For 39, my thighs looked great without the help. Toned. No cellulite. Honest. But in these, I was a goddess. And they were the type that crawled up your ass crack, displaying each butt cheek individually, leaving little to the imagination on my hourglass hips. I twisted back and forth admiring myself in the mirror. Not worth 160 bucks, but beat the heck out of old, baggy sweatpants.
I pulled on a sports bra and squished my large tits inside, leaving a couple inches of cleavage visible at the top. I thought about throwing a shirt over it, but it wouldn't have made sense with the pants. Plus, I enjoyed exposing the sleeve of tattoos that ran up my right arm -- especially when I worked out. An endeavor I'd started in my early thirties and added to occasionally over the years. A reminder that somewhere inside of this middle-class, almost middle-aged, woman, with a son nearly off to college, there was a wild heart. The embers of restless creature who'd just never gotten the chance to really let loose.
I'd be exercising alone anyway. In the corner of a drab basement. No need for modesty.
I pulled my hair back. Long, short, punky, preppy. I could never quite make up my mind. Right now it fell just above my shoulders. Enough for a small pony tail, with long bangs swept to the side of my face. Next month it would be different.
As I walked downstairs, I felt a tingling between my legs and my face began to flush. Maybe underwear would have been a good idea. Ah, fuck it, a little friction might do me some good. I was ovulating, horny as fuck, and if I did it right, maybe I'd get a bit of a bonus with my workout. God knows I needed it. Although it had never been said, my husband Greg had made it implicitly clear years ago, that if I wanted to get off, it was now my responsibility.
I was lost in a daydream along those lines when I rounded the corner to the laundry room slash gym, and -- "Oh, Jason!" I said startled.
He looked up at me as he curled a bar -- which appeared to have every plate and improvised weight in the house added to it -- and gave a slight upward nod.
"I didn't realize you were home... I just..." I stammered. "I can come back later."
"It's OK. I was just finishing up anyway." Jason must have noticed the lingering confusion on my face and continued on, "Tommy was sick today, so I came straight home after school."
"Oh. OK. Yeah. I didn't hear you down here when I got in." Proceeding with caution, "It's always great having you here. I mean, now that you're a senior, I feel like I never see you any more." Somehow we'd become strangers over the past year. Living in the same house, but only ever seeing one another in passing. No more heart to heart conversations or even impromptu chats. I guess that was natural at this age. I just missed the close connection we used to have.
I didn't want him to think I was guilt tripping him about it though. It wasn't his fault. Right the ship, "I mean... It's good. It's great that you're so... independent." For some reason I was a bit nervous. Maybe even intimidated?
Jason looked over mid set and nodded, letting me off the hook. I tentatively waded past the threshold of the doorway. "Wow. It's smells so... Manly in here."
"Sorry." Jason shrugged.
"That's not a bad thing." I rushed to cover. It really wasn't. The smell was strong -- almost making me light headed -- but in a charged, masculine way. The air practically cackled with it. "I mean... I just... What I was trying to say is..." Where was I going with this? "I'm actually really proud of how much you've been working out lately." And then timidly. "I mean, really. You've been so consistent these past 6 months and I can tell how much your frame has changed... And... What? You've grown like 4 inches in the last year?" And then cautiously tossing out, "You've become such a strapping young man. And just in time, right? You'll be off at college before you know it. Surrounded by young co-eds and parties..." Shifting right into babbling, "I guess it's not like you haven't reaped some of the benefits already." Looking for recognition in his face, seeing none. "I mean... you're always out with friends these days, and I've seen the lock screen on your phone. There's always a notification for a text from some new girl..."
Let's get things back on track here. "I just... Wondered who you were going to take after is all." Jason's ears perked up there. "I mean... I was a late bloomer, too."
As Jason finished his set, he cocked his head and looked at me intently. I pushed on, "Really. It wasn't until my senior year that I... Matured into my adult body." A slight look of disbelief on Jason's face. "Really. I was so mousy before that. Just a twig with big glasses and a bad haircut that my Mom's friend used to give me." Jason smiled, so I continued. "But senior year, somehow I had all the boys' attention. But..." I scoffed, "I was practically married to your father by that time. I mean... We had been together for three years -- which felt like forever back then -- And now..." Not sure where I was going.
Jason set the bar down and went about stripping it. I continued, "Well. You know, your father. He's... He just kind of... Well, he's always been kind of small." Jason looked up and back at me. "Well, yeah, he's got a bit of a potbelly now, but he's just... scrawny. His arms, his legs... They're stringy at best. And he never got any taller." Jason grinned, so I kept on. "Seriously, five foot eight his Freshman year, and if anything he's shorter now." Jason chuckled. "Plus, he still has his baby face. Yeah, now that he's balding he doesn't really look like a-" I squinched up my face, and tried to bring it back around. "Nothing like you. You've just developed so nicely... So, yeah, I just wondered who you were going to take after. Anyway..."
Jason had finished and was clearing some space for me. I grabbed a pair of dumbbells -- which looked tiny next to the plates he was putting away -- and started warming up with some squats.
I felt eyes on me. Tracking my butt from when it stuck out at the bottom of my rep, up to the top, and all the way in between. My pussy tingled and my face began to heat up. Was Jason checking me out? What if he was? That was mostly harmless. It shouldn't affect me like this. But I could feel that it wasn't just a casual glance. He was savoring the view. And it was making me weak in the knees.
As soon as I turned my head to confirm, I started to loose my balance, and then-
I was falling.
There was a blur of movement out of the corner of my eye and then a strong, rough pair of hands, under my armpits, wrapped around my rib cage. Gently pressing my heavy tits together... Maybe more than was strictly necessary.
"Oh!" I yelled out too late. "Oh my God, Jason. You caught me." I could feel him lifting me back up as if I weighed nothing.