Mommy knows best

Chapter 1

If you're a parent, you've probably read, or even own, 'What to Expect When You're Expecting' and other self-help parenting books. Many of these have been very useful to me over the years as I raised two children on my own after my husband's premature death. He died of a sudden illness when Alice was fourteen and Alex twelve. The books were very helpful when I struggled to deal with my daughter's teenage rebellion phase, and they were somewhat helpful as I dealt with my son's coming of age, although truth be told, I let my brother help me out with that one.

Before beginning the story I must come to say that they are not my own kids. Actually I suffered from ovarian tumour when I was in my teenage years which caused me to lose one of my ovaries. My doctor pretty sure told me then that I am never going to become a mother again. I was never the motherly type, but when I found Jake with the two young kids and no mother who had contacted me for selling off their older house and find a new one those motherly instincts started working pretty good.

We soon found that we were pretty great with each other and he needed a mother for the kids whom he could not handle on their own. Alice was only two and Alex was a few months old. We did not take time to get married and then looking after they kids. They have both called me Mom since the beginning and that was all that mattered.

Yet nothing in any book I've ever read could have prepared me for what I saw that one fateful day, because I'm pretty sure nobody has ever published a chapter called 'What to Do when you Catch your Son m**********g in your Stockings with your Name on his Lips'.

I sell real estate, and for many reasons I'm quite successful; I'm hard working, a people's person, and although I'm in my early forties, according to many people's compliments I'm still very attractive. These three qualities working together for me are an unstoppable combination, and I've made a very comfortable living for myself and my two children. Sixteen years after Jake passed, Alice was attending college on the West Coast, and Alex, who'd just turned eighteen two weeks before the incidents I'm about to describe, was in his final two months of high school.

While Alice was the wild child who did way more partying than studying and who drove me to my first grey hair, Alex was shy, geeky, and was way more likely to play some computer game than go to a party. I worried about Alex, who was academically very strong, and who'd already been accepted by several colleges with all of them offering scholarships, but he was socially quite inept. He'd never had a girlfriend, and the only parties he'd ever attended had been with his three equally socially challenged friends. All of had been theme parties like Lord of the Rings Night, Star Wars Night (the original series and not the weak prequels... why does George Lucas attempt to write?), and most recently, at my house, a Harry Potter Weekend where they watched all eight movies plus all the extras, and then they made a list of the hundred things the movies got wrong (which they read to me very enthusiastically while I attempted to listen politely and show a little enthusiasm). Of course, all these parties were just the four of them, with no pesky girls. That was what had me so much worried. Was he going to be a nerd all his life???

Which brings me to what started it all...

I came home early one afternoon after two of my showings had been cancelled. I slipped out of my heels near the front door like I always do and was going to my room to undress and shower, when I noticed the door to my room was open and the light turned on. I knew I hadn't left things that way. Cautious of perhaps encountering a burglar, I crept up and peeked around the corner into my room.

On my bed, stroking his c**k with one of my nylon stockings, was my son! I barely held back a gasp. My son was jerking off on my bed, and he was looking at something on his laptop as his now audible moans of pleasure became more intense. I was frozen in shock, and my feet felt like they were trapped in cement; I couldn't move, and I couldn't take my eyes off my son and his shockingly large c**k.

I watched for only a minute, maybe two, before my son moaned, "Oh yes, Mommy, suck my c**k, be a good Mommy-slut for me."

I couldn't completely contain a gasp this time, as I realized he was not only m**********g using my stockings, he was m**********g while imagining my servicing him! Luckily he was in his own fantasy world and didn't notice my faint sound.

A couple minutes later, while I continued watching and heard my son addressing his mental image of me as 'Mommy' three more times, he grunted, "I'm coming Mommy, swallow my c*m!" Seconds later, his sticky white stuff shot into the air like a rocket.

I quickly retreated down the stairs, snuck out of the house and back to my car. I couldn't believe what I'd just seen and heard. My son fantasized about me! I was mortified, and doubly mortified when I noticed an undeniable dampness in my panties.

Why was I wet?

Why had I gotten so horny?

Had I really heard Alex call me a Mommy-slut?

I shook the thoughts out of my head and pulled quietly out of my driveway to see if a drive might help me to put what I'd seen into some perspective. Unfortunately, I didn't get anywhere.

An hour later, close to when I normally arrived home, I walked into the house and called out just in case, "Alex, I'm home."

Alex called back (from his own room, thank God), "Hi, Mom."

I went to his room, found the door open, saw he was on his computer and asked, "Want pizza?"

"Sounds great," he answered, appearing relaxed and therefore unaware of what I knew.

It was hard to believe that what I'd seen just an hour ago had been real. The rest of the evening was normal: supper, watching Jeopardy together, and his going to his room and his computer while I continued watching television, planned a couple showings for tomorrow and relaxed with a couple glasses of white wine.

At bedtime I tossed and turned, as images of my son m**********g and pretending to order me around while doing it, refused to leave my mind. My p***y was tingling, and although I tried to withstand the temptation to pleasure myself, I eventually gave in. Closing my eyes, I fantasized, like I always did, about my late husband, my perfect man who'd had to leave me way too soon. He'd understood my submissive nature in the bedroom, which was the polar opposite of my personality in public where I was always in charge and a no-nonsense woman. A feminist in most people's eyes. I imagined myself on all fours... this was the way he'd usually f****d me. We'd both wanted him to f**k me in whichever hole suited his fancy, since when we were alone and getting intimate he treated me like the slut I craved to be. And yet in public or with our kids, he was always the perfect gentleman and husband as we presented a façade of a vanilla life, which was all anyone else would ever see. This fantasy, this reminiscing of the 'good times' always got me off quickest, and I was close in only a few minutes.

As I neared my climax, my mind played tricks on me, and now I wasn't seeing my husband pounding me from behind, but my son! So close to coming, I just went with it and continued pleasuring myself until the crescendo of pleasure washed through me while I heard my son ordering me to "Come Mommy, come on your son's big hard c**k!"

This orgasm was more intense than most I self-created, and I collapsed into my bed, a puddle of sweat. As I recovered from my best orgasm in a long, long time, I gasped at what had turned the tide. I couldn't believe that my son had replaced his father in my fantasy! I also couldn't believe how hot and bothered Alex had gotten me both during the fantasy and when I'd spied on him earlier today. After some thought, I decided it must have been a mixture of exhaustion, loneliness, missing Jake, and being shocked upon seeing my son performing such a personal act while picturing me. Comfortable with my conclusion, I drifted off to sleep and had the best rest I'd had in a long time.

The next morning as Alex came down for breakfast, I noticed how much he looked like his father. Jake had been more athletically built, but he too had been rather nerdy in appearance and hid his naughty sexuality quite well.

Once my son had gone off to school, curiosity got the better of me. I went into his room and flipped open his laptop. I typed in his password (which was as predictable as could be, PrincessLeia), and checked out the sites he'd been on yesterday afternoon. I knew this was a major violation of his privacy, yet my desire to know what he'd been reading or watching while he was m**********g about me was driving me nuts. The websites he'd visited yesterday were mostly the usual geek sites, but one of them wasn't, and soon there were a few of them in a row. I'd never heard of the site, but as I opened the URL's I gasped. They were all stories about incest, with titles like Backseat Mommy, Making Mommy Mine, What Mom Doesn't Know Will f**k Her, Riding on Son's Lap, and Mom's Stocking Stuffer.

I jotted down the titles, not wanting to leave behind any evidence of my violation of his privacy, erased my history and logged off the Internet. Still curious, I searched the word 'mom' on his files and found a plethora of stories he'd saved. I was shocked by the obvious conclusion that my son wanted to have s*x with me, or at least that was his favourite fantasy. Yet I couldn't even begin to fathom how to deal with this knowledge.

I shut down his computer and realizing the time, rushed out for my first showing of the day. Strangely, all day while I was at work, I couldn't shake off my new-found knowledge, couldn't shake off how obsessed I'd become with the need to learn more.

Once my day of showing houses and condos was done I headed home, hoping to catch him in the act again, although completely unsure about what I would do if I did, or for that matter, why I was hoping I would. I didn't want to have s*x with my son, did I?