My name maiden name was Mona Coit; a moaner during coitus. That's an unintended pun my parents made, because I have always been vocal during sex, even when I masturbate. I guess it runs in the family, I remember hearing my folks making love on occasion. Though, that was rarely and even then they tried to mask the sounds with music or a fan going or some other noise. It didn't work, but I respected their privacy and their room was at the other end of the house I grew up in, so I seldom listened in.
But both were making those primitive sounds we all make when screwing. Mom especially would tell dad how she wanted it. I don't know if it's from hearing her or just genetic that I do that too. But this story is not about them, it's about my son and I. Maybe if I had been the silent type, what happened would not have. But I'm not, and it did, and we did. Yes, we fucked – committed incest. I didn't intend for our actions to lead to our relationship, however since we crossed the line, there is no going back.
I'm now forty-two; we have been intimate for just under a year now. It happened last summer, when Jeff, my son, returned home freshly graduated from prep school. Ready to go to an Ivy League college in the fall. So he took the summer off, no camp counseling, no summer job, lazy bum time. Why not? We didn't need the money; his father's insurance had left us well off, that and the investments we had made. I worked high end real estate in a fancy community of Connecticut and made damn good money. On top of all that, the house was willed to us by my folks, and we had lived in it since they retired to Florida, so finances were not any problem.
Both my folks were gone now and my husband too. Dad had a massive stroke and mom and my husband both died of cancer. My spouse most tragically three years ago. He would have been 45 in September. So it's just Jeff and I, in a big house, all by ourselves. Except that he was gone for most of the school year, of course. Therefore, I wasn't used to him being around the house. That summer I forgot sometimes that he was home and several times walked around in just my panties and bra. When he came upon me in such a state of undress we didn't make a big deal of it and I would go and put on a robe.
On the other hand Jeff would parade in his jockeys in the morning for breakfast or at night going to the bathroom. It didn't bother me, except when he had a woodie in the AM. The damn thing nearly would pop the tip above the waist band it was so long. One time we even had an encounter when we both were nude. I had been taking a shower and had neglected to close the door all the way, so as to let out the steam. Just as I got out of the shower and was reaching to grab a towel - in walked my son – naked as a jay bird. With a full blown erection.
Now I know the natural thing for a gal to do is to cover up the best she can and snap up the nearest towel for modesty. But I didn't. I was like a deer caught in the headlights; I froze at the sight of his gorgeous cock. I admit that I had been curious at what lurked beneath the briefs. I had always found the male member a thing of fascination. He stood there, an Adonis, a Greek statue, but at attention like the ancients didn't ever carve. It was more like those on the Hindu temples showing sex acts. However, this was not stone but turgid living flesh. I hadn't seen a man's dick in three years, and this was a beaut of a boner.
For his part he made the most of the long minute we stared at one another. My body was still in fair shape having played tennis with my gal-pals, and gone to the gym in the mornings for one exercise group or another. My husband used to compare me to Tinkerbelle, a spritely blond with a good bust and slim hips. Jeff made a direct survey of my charms, the pink tipped melons and the wispy golden triangle of my pussy. I felt myself getting strangely tingly between my legs - as my nipples hardened and I blushed. If it had been his dad, I would have jumped his bones right there and then. It was a hot moment.
But Jeff finally retreated, saying, "Sorry, mom, I didn't think you were in here, since the door was open. I was going to take a shower." (Our home was 2&1/2 baths but this was the only one that had an enclosed shower equipped with a big adjustable head. It was off my master bedroom, the other downstairs just had a tub/shower and no frills.) "Unless you want to share one?" he offered.
"No, Jeffy!" I replied. "I'm finished, thank you very kindly . . ." I said with a tone indicating I would not go for that. The very idea of taking a shower with my grown son!!
"Nice bod!" The young rascal called back through the door he closed behind him. The kid was getting more smart mouthed as the summer progressed.
"Remember, I used to change your diapers. I've seen your butt naked more times that you can count!"
"Yeah? Well how's it look now?" And he stuck his hind-end back through, mooning his mom. I looked at the ass that poked out from behind the door. I couldn't see his face, but I knew he had a big silly grin on it. I had to admit, he always had a great set of buns, and now they made my mouth water – or somewhere else on my body moisten!
"And if you don't want that thing paddled, just like I did when you were little, you'll get gone and give me some privacy. I'll let you know when it's your turn." I said with a laugh. But his buns were scrumptious. "Stop being so cheeky with your old mom!" I said as I heard him leave finally.
"Ta ta to the ta-tas," he called
Later I wondered if that incident had been so innocent; if it had been merely accidental or more of a deliberate attempt to get a gander at me stripped. Well, he certainly got what he came for. To ogle me, and show off his prick and muscular physique too? If so it worked. If his purpose was to get his mother interested in his body that had done the trick. I wasn't warm for his form right then – but in light of subsequent events, it had the desired effect.
I came home early one day from work. My schedule varied; as showing the properties was on the clients' available time, so my hours were not regular. I arrived and entered the house, as I passed Jeff's room on the way to mine; I heard something through his door. I try to respect his privacy, but this was something that stopped me in my tracks. It was a female's voice. At first I thought he had a date over and they were making out. But in a moment I realized the gal was having an orgasm! I kept listening, out of motherly curiosity – don't want the kid to get some girl knocked-up. However, as I listen for a moment, I could tell that it was not live but recorded on tape. 'Ah-Ha!' I thought, 'He's got a porno tape on.'
But then I heard the woman cry out, "Ooh! Yess!! Deeper, harder . . . hard and deep" I know just how she feels, I thought to myself. Then I had the psychological equivalent of a bucket of ice-water dumped on my brain. I knew how that felt because – IT WAS ME!!
That was me; that is, a recording of me, cumming! The tape played on even though my mind was completely stopped. "Deeper, deeper . . . I want you deep, give it to me as hard as you can – oh god fuck me . . . fuck me now with your hard cock . . . pound my pussy, make me cum, make me cum nooww!! Yes, yess, YES I'M CUMMING . . . UH UUHH!!" I listened to myself finishing my orgasm with heavy panting; giving way to little coo's and murmurs. It had been a good one!
I acted without thinking. I grabbed the knob and swung the door open. There was my son, naked on his bed, his hand on his dick, his penis oozing white goo, his eyes closed, his breath ragged, his climax obvious, his oblivion complete – he didn't know I was seeing him in the aftermath of masturbating. I immediately realized that any confrontation would be totally embarrassing to us both, that I didn't have the slightest idea of what to say or how to deal with the situation. I closed the door silently and went to my room.
I locked the door to my bedroom – not that I expected him to try to come in, but in an irrational reaction to protect my privacy. When to think of it – I had invaded his. I couldn't imagine where he had gotten a recording of me having a climax. I sounded like that often enough when his father had fucked me – had his dad made a tape of our love-making? I didn't think so. Why was he listening to his mother's orgasm, didn't he have any video pornography? How often had he done this? My head was filled with questions.
I took a couple of aspirin in the bathroom. I lay down and tried to sort things out in my head. It must have been when I masturbated one night. Perhaps a couple of weeks ago when I thought he was out and had given myself a real workout with my dildos. (Hey! A gal gets horny too!) But how? A micro recorder under the bed? A wireless mike hooked to a receiver? Then I realized the simple answer. Whatever the mechanism the tape was on, it was by way of the household intercom that was able to be either a baby monitor or call everybody to dinner or play the radio in any room. Seventies technology – true, but still in working order and effective enough to do the job, as I heard for myself.
Other questions arose, how often had he done that? Was he thinking of me – or was it just the sound of a female climaxing that was his turn on. How many recordings of me did he have? Should I confront him, or not? How should I handle this, ought I to put a stop to it? How would he like it if the tables were turned? Stupid question – he'd like it. Well, I had sort of, hadn't I? There was Jeff, with his nice big (seven incher?) cock stroking and jism running out. I had always liked to watch a guy jerk-off; my boyfriends, my husband, once I even caught my brother and he did it while I looked on. Sure fellas didn't mind a girl watching, it fueled their fantasies.
