Training Mommy
"It's been six months, Mom; don't you think it's time to move on?" Brice asked as he reached across the kitchen table and lightly touched my forearm.
I looked up at him and tried to smile, something I'd seldom done since the love of my life had been torn from my soul by a drunk driver who broadsided his vehicle, killing him instantly.
"You need to turn the page and get on with your life," his gentle squeeze reinforcing something I already knew.
"I'm not sure," I replied.
The pain of losing Kevin still gripped my heart, even more than the anger I felt toward the man who had snatched the love of my life from me. Yet, deep inside, I knew I'd need to move forward. No amount of grieving would bring him back. My life partner was gone; the man who fathered our two children and satisfied every desire I held would forever remain a memory.
Kevin and I were married when I was twenty-two during our junior year in college. I studied liberal arts, and he was pre-med. Our daughter Melissa was born a year later, followed by Brice the next year. Kevin wanted our son to be a junior, so Brice's name was Kevin Brice Walls Jr. He hated being called Junior, which was how his grandfather addressed him. Eventually, I began using his middle name, ignoring his first name.
To support our family, I dropped out of college and took a job in retail, eventually working into the management team at the department store where I worked. Times were tuff, but we survived, knowing that once Kevin graduated, his income as a medical doctor would make the struggles worth every minute.
Until we had two toddlers running around the house, Kevin and I shared an incredible sex life. I had more fantasies than he, but he happily obliged whenever I brought up the subject of something kinky. While he wasn't my first, he was, without a doubt, my best, and we enjoyed all kinds of sex, including light bondage, anal oral, and my favorite, deepthroat cock sucking.
We were faithful to one another with one glaring exception. While attending a medical seminar in another city, Kevin allowed a woman to seduce him. When he returned, his guilt consumed him, and he admitted to his transgression within twenty-four hours. I forgave this one slip-up but warned that another could result in ramifications he'd find extremely unpleasant.
Once the kids were old enough to play outside alone, Kevin regularly had me kneel between him and the kitchen sink to pleasure him orally. He'd watch the kids as I throated his rock-hard cock. I still remember his safe word "kids" telling me I needed to stop, but more often than not, he'd exclaim "Cumming Kat" when his balls were about to explode and provide me with a thick creamy mouthful of his hot cum.
"I miss him so much, Brice," I finally said, a tear cascading down one cheek.
"I miss him too, but Mom, you're a beautiful woman; I'm sure there are hundreds of men out there that could make you happy."
He coerced a smile on my lips, and I replied, "You think I'm beautiful?"
"Absolutely, I think you get lovelier as time passes," he admitted.
I continued smiling as I reminded him, "I'm forty-five years old, and in case you haven't noticed, these lines at the corner of my eyes aren't beauty marks."
"Perhaps not, but those tiny crows' feet only enhance the mysterious look of your eyes."
While I was certain he'd never seen my naked tits, I remarked, "And my chest isn't as firm as it was before I carried you and Melissa."
He smiled, "I suppose I'll have to take your word about that, but I've seen you in a swimsuit, and believe me, I think that your tits are lovelier than most mature women."
I almost couldn't believe my ears; my twenty-three-year-old son had just referred to my chest as tits and that I am a lovely mature woman. His comment, while surprising, sparked a flame of desire deep inside me.
"And you have experience with mature women?" I asked.
He smiled, "Mom, I'm fucking a fifty-five-year-old divorcee, and trust me when I say she does things for me that no twenty-something girl ever could."
In the past, when I thought he needed scolding, I always used his full-given name, "Kevin Bryson, you naughty boy."
He just grinned at me.
Do you have some suggestions about how I will open a new page in my life? I asked.
"You should consider a single's dating site," he began.
"Oh, my, I could never do that," I replied.
He grinned, "That's where I met Faith."
I assumed Faith was the divorcee he'd mentioned.
"Or you could try speed dating," he continued.
After explaining how speed dating works, I admitted that was a possibility. After all, I'd have a few minutes to talk to some guys with no requirements for it to go any further.
"I'll email you some links you can explore if you'd like," Brice suggested.
"Okay, it doesn't hurt to look," I answered, knowing that this kind of activity would at least take my mind off how much I missed Kevin.
Brice stood up and then leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. "I'm glad we had this talk, mom."
Over the next few days, Brice emailed me links to several dating websites, most were tailored to mature singles, and everyone allowed women to search available men for free. I have to admit that very few of the ads piqued any interest in my mind. There are a shit ton of single men who say they are looking for a lasting long-term relationship, but nearly every one wanted sex on a first date.
I explored the whole speed dating thing, which in my mind, seemed like a better fit for me. I'd be able to talk face-to-face with men and get a feel for what they expected in a potential match.
Brice and I didn't speak about my situation other than his questions about what I found in my internet search. Then, a couple of weeks later, something happened that would change my life drastically. As I walked past the bathroom, I noticed Brice was inside. I'm not sure if he intentionally left the door ajar or if it was an oversight on his part. As I glanced inside, I saw my son with his cock in his hand, leaning against the vanity. He was masturbating. I instantly felt guilty and thought I should continue and let him pleasure himself alone. But the vision of his cock froze my feet in place. It was a duplicate of his father's cock, the same bulbous mushroom-shaped head, a wide g-spot teasing corona, and a shaft that was covered with a matrix of blood-engorged veins. If there was one difference between his and Kevin's beautiful cock it was that Brice's seemed to be slightly longer and noticeably thicker.
I couldn't move a twinge of desire in my loins, as well as my brain kept me there. I needed to watch him climax, wondering if his balls contained the same thick creamy ejaculate as his dad's.
His hand moved at a feverish pace, stroking the full length of his beautiful cock shaft and teasing his corona with the first couple of fingers. Then, like his father before him, as he approached orgasm, he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and as the first thick wad of cum shot from his urethra, he exclaimed, "Suck my cock, Mommy, swallow every drop your big boy provides."
I was stunned; my son had actually jerked off with lustful thoughts of his mother in mind. And judging from the huge puddle of thick creamy sauce on the bathroom floor, this wasn't the first time he'd fantasized about an incestuous relationship with me.
Before he recovered completely, I turned and quietly walked to my bedroom. Once safely inside, my mind began racing with thoughts of what had just occurred. How could this be? What signs did I give to make him think about such things? And, more importantly, how would I deal with the knowledge that my loving son wants to fuck me.
The thought of committing incest with my son had never crossed my mind, but to be completely honest, I found the idea highly erotic. As I lay in my bed waiting for sleep to capture me, I replayed in my mind the images of Brice stroking his rock-hard cock and the sounds of his voice imploring me to suck his cock and accept the fruits of his loins. It was a restless night of sleep; my dreams ran the gamut from tender loving incestuous sex to some that bordered on becoming his mature sex slave. However, every dream ended the same way, with the image of my son's face completely satisfied.
