Literotic asexstories – Caught in the Act – Pt. 02 by sgternestbilko,sgternestbilko
I try to keep the sex as true to my own experience as possible. I love to write about kissing, stroking, how sex feels and sex as an encounter which involves all the senses. I do like to ‘get dirty’ but only in the height of my character’s arousal. All my stories have my own experience in them, but generally they are not autobiographical.
Part 1 of this story is inspired by a true story recounted to me by one of my readers, P. Thank you P, I hope you like the story. Part 2 (this part) is pure fiction.
Constructive feedback welcome. I am from UK, so UK spelling applies. Thank you for reading my story.
It is probably essential that you read part one of this story.
Act 1 — In my own bed
So, I crept back to my room, uncertain as to whether Harry, my son, had seen me. That thought wasn’t uppermost in my mind. My head was full of a desire to relieve myself, there was no room for regret or worry.
As I walked into my bedroom, I pulled off my t-shirt. I grabbed my favourite friend from my top drawer and climbed onto bed. I was so focused on relief that I had left my door partly open. Harry and I never completely closed our bedroom doors. I guess it dates back to when he was young and my maternal desire to care for him 24 hours a day.
I lay back and started. I like to start slowly with my hands rather then immediately use my vibrator. With my right hand I stroke my trimmed black pubic hair and with my left I lightly stroke my right nipple. I sighed with sheer contentment. I can’t always achieve orgasm, but I knew I was going to tonight. My right hand continued to twirl in my public hair whilst making inexorable progress to the hood of my clit.
An electric shook tingled through my body as I pushed through the hood and onto my clit. I paused the journey south to take some time on my clit. She was pushing through her hood and coming out to play.
I moved south whilst continuing to caress my nipples. I reached my labia; wet to the touch, aching to be stroked. I split my fingers sliding one on each side down to my perineum and back up. I sighed again and relaxed further into the bed. My labia were soaking wet, and I used the palm of my hand to spread them. Exposing my love canal to the cool air. My hips involuntarily rose to meet my hand as I mashed my honeyed lips.
I strummed my clit gently with the fingertips of my right hand and reached for my friend with the other. I clicked him on, and he made his usual reassuring hum. I smiled, soon I would be in heaven. I lightly touched my clit with the vibrations, I thrilled to the touch but needed to move on to entry as too much vibration would make my clit feel numb.
I slowly slid my friend into my waiting hole. All the way until my walls were full of vibrating phallus. I paused and continued to strum my clit. I took my left hand off my friend and used it to gather honey from my labia. I closed my eyes and murmured a ‘mmmmm’. I was full of ‘cock’ and using both hands to freely move about my clit and labia. I noticed a feint whiff of me, clean but sexy.
I was on my way. The train could not be stopped now, a powerful moment was building, and I would soon hit the buffers. …….creak………. Oh fuck, that was the floorboard outside my room. I froze and frantically tried to switch my friend off. The room was silent as I switched it off. I was relieved when I heard the bathroom light being switched on and the door closing.
I was so horny. ‘quick, quick’ finish the job my pussy screamed. I obeyed my instinct, I couldn’t help it. I switched my friend back on and proceeded to rhythmical push him in and out of my wet canal whilst continuing to strum my engorged clit. I prayed that Harry would stay in the bathroom.
I was close now and my hips had taken over some of the work of my hand in moving the ‘cock’ in and out of me. I changed the angle to get some vibration onto my g-spot. I moaned again. My head was full of my son’s cock. That magnificent silky sheened steel erection. I imaged it moving in me. The masculine musky smell of it; It’s natural oily lubrication.
I let go of the vibrator and concentrated with both hands on my clit and labia. My hips continued to twitch trying in vain to get the vibrator to move. I need clitoral stimulation to come so my canal would have to wait.
My right hand (still on my clit) was now a blur, as I heard the bathroom door open. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I was so close I could feel the tsunami tide going out in anticipation of the wave yet to come. The train was in sight of the buffers, I was going to crash into them.
My conscious mind was listening for the creaking floorboard. It didn’t come. He was outside my room. He was watching. I didn’t fucking care. I wanted orgasm. I wanted his beautiful phallus. I wanted him to see me. My pussy was facing him, my legs were open. I imagined him watching the humming cock in me and my fingers jilling me to oblivion.
I wanted him to see. I wanted to reward him for the earlier floor show. I wanted to show him that despite being his mum I was still sexual. The floorboard had not creaked, and I imagined him, cock in hand, willing me to orgasm.
I was still imagining his manhood stuffing me as I held my breath in anticipation of the wave that was about to hit me. I was still strumming but my left hand resumed moving my friend in an out of me. My hips jerked with the rhythm of the humming cock that was impaling me. I was so wet it made sloshing noises and then the first wave hit me.
I froze with my hips inches off the bed and the vibrating phallus humming. I held my breath as every muscle in my crotch pulsed with orgasm. I continued to hold my breath as the blood pumped in me, I could hear my heartbeat as my body shook. My crotch continued to pulse. Finally, I took a sharp breath and exclaimed “oh fuck”.
My hips crashed back down to my bed, and I pulled out the ‘cock’. I slowed the strum in anticipation of the second and third waves. I knew he was watching me. I was more measured now; certain I would orgasm again. I was feeling very horny; I was on show. The thought of my own son watching me slosh my labia and clit to orgasm was building tension in me again.
Even in the 1/2 light he could see into me. For the first time in his life, he could see every fold and crevice of me. All the things no son should see. My glistening labia, my clit poking out from its hood, my black pubic hair and my engorged nipples.
My head was full of the dirty theatre of me showing my son everything, the very essence of my sexual response. With all these thoughts I came again, more gently this time. I felt a beautiful warm wave wash over me and carry me out to sea. I was floating as my pussy gently pulsed again and again.
Finally, my hips twitched, sank into the bed and I softly moaned; ‘mmmm’.
As I came down to earth and through my post orgasmic haze I heard the floor creak. He had gone to bed and at the same time proved he was watching.
Act 2 — The next morning, a very British affair
I awoke the next morning, to my surprise, in a totally relaxed mood. I smiled when I remembered my wonderful orgasm; the best I had for some months. I tingled at the thought of the magnificant shiny erect phallus. In my mind it wasn’t connected to my son. I felt no guilt, which amazes me to this day.
I admit I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Harry. I knew (like me) he would be embarrassed. What we did was perfectly natural, thrilling even, but it shouldn’t happen between mother and son. He should be doing that sort of thing with a lithe 18-year-old, not some middle-aged woman old enough to be his mother………actually, his mother.
I was sitting at our kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee when Harry walked in. I didn’t look up and said cheerily, “There’s some coffee in the pot, Harry, it’s still hot.”
“Thanks, mum. Sleep well?” You may think this was a reference to last night and of course it might have been if not for the fact that this is what Harry invariable said as a greeting in the morning. “Yes, Harry, did you?”
“Like a log, mum.” This was not what he normally said, and I looked up. It’s hard to describe the look on his face. He was not grinning nor was he frowning. His face lacked expression except for the merest hint of a smile. It was nice and I echoed the expression back to him.
So British. We said everything we needed to say with the hint of a smile. No psychodrama, no ‘lay it out on the table’, just a little smile. Maybe we were coping out. Maybe we were too embarrassed. I don’t know, but it felt right. It felt grown up. It was like we were saying to each other that we both have ‘needs’ and maybe we shouldn’t fulfil each other’s needs, but no harm was done.
He knew I had seen him. I knew he had watched me, but that was the end of that. No sexual tension, no discussion….. back to real life.
Act 3 — a few weeks later
Harry has many friends, so I didn’t see much of him for a few weeks. Whilst we are close, we live quite separate social lives. As it should be between mother and son. Despite it filling my head for a day or two, I had succeeded in putting our little adventure to the back of my mind
One night, a few weeks later, I had gone to bed early as I had an exhausting day at work. Harry was out with friends and wasn’t expected back until late. Despite being tired I wasn’t sleeping well. I was drifting in and out of a light fitful sleep when I heard Harry come in. IT was about 11pm. I remember thinking “he’s a bit early”, before rolling over and trying to get back to sleep.
I did drift off, just, but was woken by the TV. “Oh, Fuck Harry, can’t you turn that bloody TV down” I said to myself as I tossed and turned, trying in vain to sleep. I was so desperate to get some sleep, I wasn’t thinking about the adventurous night at all. I got up, shut my bedroom door, and got back into bed.
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