Turning the Tables

The following story is fictitious, of an explicit and adult nature. This story is not meant to be viewed by anyone under the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18, offended by adult material or such material is barred by the standards of your community, please leave this page now.

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Patty ran the hot water in the kitchen sink full steam. She stared down at the black Bakelite ashtray; she stared at the cloudy grayish white puddle that it contained as she dipped her fingertip into it, raised it to her lips and tasted its creamy bitterness.

"What the fuck did I just do?" Patty thought to herself. She began to quietly panic. Thoughts raced through her head about how she may have just destroyed her whole existence. The internal browbeating that she was receiving at the hands of her skyrocketing pulse and shallow breath made her think about every permutation of the consequences of her actions.

It had been a bright, crisp September day. Mike had been awake for a half an hour when he finally decided to get up and out of bed. The sound of Patty's station wagon pulling out of the driveway gave him the incentive to quickly indulge in one of his favorite past times while his mother went to pick up the groceries, as she did every Wednesday morning.

Mike discovered years ago that his father took some very lurid Polaroids of Patty, which they kept hidden in a shoebox in the closet of their master bedroom. In fact, not only were these pictures the only pornography in the house, they were they only pornography to be found in this sleepy New Haven suburb. Mike's favorite past time was masturbation, as you'd expect from any guy in his early twenties. Sometimes ... well, most of the time ... his imagination wasn't quite enough to get the job done; he would sneak into his parents bedroom, retrieve the Polaroids from the shoe box and go to work on himself before anyone was any the wiser.

As he usually did when he had evening classes at the local college, Mike went down to the family room and laid the Polaroids out on the coffee table. The pictures ranged from the racy to the downright filthy; after all, they were meant for private consumption. There was one of Patty teasing away her negligee. There was another of Patty completely nude, and completely shaved, as she exited the shower. One picture showed a cock between her fleshy breasts. One was a fully on picture of Patty with a cock in her mouth, her cheekbones protruding as she vacuumed it up. The last showed Patty with her mouth agape, semen coating her tongue, lips and cheeks.

To him, it was just available porn to jerk off to; Mike never really dwelled upon the fact that the pictures were of his mother. It just didn't phase him. He just pulled down his pants and began stroking his cock. He never heard the keys jingle. He never heard the kitchen door open.

Patty entered the kitchen, pissed off because her arms were full of groceries and no one ever thought to help her in, or ... dare she think it ... help her put them away. She put both bags of groceries and her keys on the counter and headed to the family room so that she could put on the television and listen to Ryan's Hope while she put the groceries away.

The moment that the louvered door swung open, both Mike and Patty's worlds changed forever in the blink of an eye. It happened so fast, and yet, for patty, that split second seemed to slowly grind to a halt.

"Oh shit," Mike screamed. His face reddened as he struggled with his pants.

Reflexively, Patty retreated to the kitchen. But the moment that the door swung shut behind her she realized that something was askew. In her growing anger and indignation, she quickly got over the trauma of having walked in on her son while he was masturbating.

"That little shit!" she thought to herself, "did he just steal my pictures? Has my own son, who I loved and raised, just tarnished my most intimate moments?"

Patty came barreling through the louvered door like a bull just released from the chute.

"You bastard! You little piece of shit!" Patty screamed at her son, violated and the angriest she had ever been in her forty-three years.

"Mo..." Mike tried to explain.

"Don't you fucking 'Mom' me, you little pervert!" Patty interjected. "I have no idea which is worse, the fact that you rummaged through my most private things and stole them, or the fact that you're pleasuring yourself to your own mother."

"But I," Mike tried to eek out but was interrupted once again by Patty.

"Don't say another word ... just don't," Patty snarled as she paced the room like a cornered mountain lion.

A panoply of emotions and thoughts shot through her head, but the one that she focused on was the injustice of it all. She had been violated, and her own son was responsible. How do you remedy such an injustice? How do you make it right? How do you make him see how much embarrassment he caused her? And then it dawned on her.

"Do you think that what you have done is fair?" Patty asked.

Mike knew it was a loaded question and that he was in for a rough time of it.

"Fair?" Mike replied meekly.

"Yes, fair. You're the one who has been violating my privacy for who the hell knows how long. Do you think it's fair?" Patty reiterated.

"Uh ... I ... No," Mike stuttered. Before Mike could figure out what was going on around him, Patty had already removed her blouse and was in the process of removing her bra.

"Mom, what the hell are you doing?" Mike panickedly asked as attempted to shield his eyes.

"What's fair is fair," Patty stated calmly. "You're such a big man when you're sneaking around, huh? Well, here I am. The real thing. In the flesh. From now on, if you want to jerk off while looking at your mother, then you're going to ask me nicely and you're going to do it in person so that I know that you're doing it."

"But Mom, thi ...," Mike shyly attempted to say.

"But Mom, what?" Patty snarled. "But Mom, this is embarrassing? You bet your little ass it is, you pervert. How embarrassed do you think I feel? How embarrassed am I to know that my son, whom I trusted, has been pleasuring himself while looking at me in pictures like these?"

Patty removed her bra, her skirt and slipped out of her panties.

"Now your going to find out what it feels like. Get out of those clothes," Patty commanded.

A confused look swept over Mike's face.

"I'm not speaking Chinese, am I?" Patty sarcastically queried. "Now I'm going to watch. You're going to look at me in the flesh, and I'm going to watch you in your most intimate moment. How do you like that?"

Mike's face flushed red as he reluctantly began to undress in front of his mother. Soon, all of Mike's clothes were on the floor. Mike sat on the couch, behind the coffee table and Patty sat on a chair opposite Mike. Mike fumbled around at first as he slowly started to masturbate. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get hard.

"Not such a big man now are you, son?" Patty smirked. "I thought you enjoyed this. I thought it makes you cum?"

Mike's eyes rolled upward. He gazed at the ceiling, choking back tears. Patty assumed that he was trying to visualize something to make himself hard.

"Penny for your thoughts, Mike. You thinking about me with my lips wrapped around your cock? Are you thinking about me with semen all over my face, Mike?" Patty chided. "What's the matter, Mike, you can't handle a real live woman?"

Patty felt herself getting wetter and wetter. Her fingers first traced the outside of her lips, but now she was fully massaging her clit. Mike, on the other hand was getting hard involuntarily and trying very hard not to look at Patty directly.

"That's more like it, Mike," Patty goaded. "Now you're giving me something to watch. Now you're giving me something to cum to. I'm a real person, with real feelings, Mike. I masturbate too. I cum too, but I don't violate people's privacy to do it, Mike."

The family room became filled with tension and the sound of wet sloppy smacking noises as Mike's precum began to lubricate the shaft of his cock.

"Don't you dare get one drop of cum on the couch or the rug. If you do, you're cleaning it up and you're going to explain the stains to your father," Patty commanded. She raised her foot to the ashtray that always stood at the corner of the coffee table and slid it over to Mike with her big toe.

"If you're going to cum, cum in this," she commanded again.

It wouldn't be long. All of the nerves in Mike's cock were tingling. Pretty soon the tingling sensation spread to Mike's balls and his whole groin. He was going to cum in front of his mother, and there was nothing he could do about it. He quickly raised the ashtray to the tip of his cock and released himself into it, slumping back on the couch when he finished. Upon seeing the jets of jizz spurting from Mike's cock, Patty came as well, the waves of orgasm pulsing over her body from head to toe. Her head hinged back, her lips parted and she let out a silent moan.

"Now go upstairs and think about what you've done. Leave the ashtray here, I'll take care of it," Patty panted.

As Mike went up the stairs, Patty picked up the black Bakelite ashtray and brought it into the kitchen. She dipped her pinky into the pooling puddle of her son's sperm and felt that it was still warm. Patty ran the hot water in the kitchen sink full steam. She stared down at the black Bakelite ashtray; she stared at the cloudy grayish white liquid that it contained as she dipped her fore-fingertip into it, raised it to her lips and tasted its creamy bitterness.

"How do you undo what has been done," Patty thought to herself. The sexual taboo between mother and son has been broken. As Patty wondered what was to come next, she knew that this was not the last time she'd taste her son's flavor.