Jacinda had done this hundreds of times before, reading smut, watching porn on her tablet, imagining movie stars, sportsmen. But today was different. No matter how much she tried, she could only picture the man she just touched 10 minutes ago. The man who touched her, albeit accidentally. The man who had just turned 18. The man she calls her son. No matter how much she tried to get her mind off him, her brain redirects to her cleaning off his knees and legs, as his manhood grew in front of her. “My touch made his penis grow, and his touch makes me want to feel it even more. And here I am wet and masturbating.” She thought to herself. “Oh God, I wish he wasn’t my ssssonnmm uaaaahhghhh” Just the thought of that man, being her son, for some reason, made her body react and she burst a fountain of her juices on the bed. Her fingers now wet from playing with herself. Eyes still closed. She had climaxed. And let out a wailing scream. The problem was, just as she was cumming, the vacuum cleaner outside her door had shut off. There was no muffling or camouflaging her yelp of passion. She had climaxed, but was she satisfied? She looked in the mirror, and nodded in a profound “No, not satisfied”.
As she stared in the mirror, looking at her almost naked body, laid on her bed, with fluids flowing out of her pussy. A realization hit her. She had just played with herself thinking about her son. This was taboo alright. But for her, being the ideal conservative, religious woman, this was beyond taboo. She was ashamed of herself. She immediately got off the bed, went into her five piece bathroom. Got right under the cold shower to wake her up from the shock of her actions. Regret, disappointment, shame washing all over her. Her boring, beige bra still on, she just stood under the shower for a few minutes, before hearing a knock on her door. Jacinda turned the shower off, covered herself in a towel. And put on a bathrobe on for good measure. The towel only covered her from her breasts to her thighs. The bathrobe gave back to her, the lost modesty a few seconds ago. *Knock Knock Knock* She heard the knocks again, her body still wet, her hair still wet, she hastily tied the waist belt of her bathrobe and went to open her bedroom door.
(Door opens slightly)
Jacinda: Who is it?
Hunter: Mom, it’s me.
Jacinda: Hey Hunter, what’s up? Everything okay?
Hunter: Yeah, that’s what I wanted to ask you.. I heard a scream… Are you okay?
Jacinda: Uhghh Oh yea… Yes. I’m fine. It was just, uhmm…. a bug. You know how we get those in the summers.
Hunter, inquisitively investigating, walked into his mother’s bedroom.
Hunter: Where? A bug? In your bedroom? Impossible, you keep it so clean and tid…
Once again, Hunter notices things unusual for his uptight mother. He notices a wet stain on her duvet. Her panties are just lying by the bed on the floor, which he only realizes after he’d unwillingly stepped on. His feet could clearly tell by the cold temperature that these panties had been wet. He jumps out to get his foot off his Mom’s wet panties. And turns around to see her. Jacinda, meanwhile still trying to process her thoughts from her self stimulating session thinking about her son, who was now standing in front of her, just looked at him blank, as if she was lost in trance. As Hunter walked across from her entering her bedroom, she sensed the dirty, sweaty, lingering teenage musk this young man exuded from his body. The kind of scent that scientists call pheromones. The scent that she could smell and immediately felt a tingle, like a switch had been turned on. Hunter called her out again….”Mom, where’s the bug?”
Jacinda: Oh honey, don’t worry about it. It’s gone now…. Okay, and sorry about the mess, I’ve just been so busy you know. My clients are wearing me out.
Jacinda takes a few steps closer to Hunter, who is still standing just a foot next to the wet, soiled panties that lay on the floor. Embarrassed about it, Jacinda picks it up in her hands and tosses it towards the laundry hamper sitting close to the closet door. The same closet door that had piqued her son’s curiosity earlier. It still had that satin, silky, shiny black belt peeking out the door. Jacinda, not being very good at sports, missed her target and her panties didn’t make the Laundry basket. They just fell next to the closet door, right by the satin belt.
Jacinda: Ugh, my aim is terrible… (rolls eyes)
Hunter: Hahahaa Mom, you should leave dunking things in baskets to me.
Jacinda: Oh I know, how good you are with the ball but you know this is Mommy’s stuff… you know.. you shouldn’t….
Just as she was about to finish her sentence, Hunter walks over to the closet door, picks up her soiled panties and places it in the laundry basket on top of the already soiled white cotton button up shirt. Jacinda was dumbfounded, and didn’t know what to say.
Jacinda: Hunter! You shouldn’t touch mommy’s…
Hunter now picks up the black, shiny, silky, black belt and looks at his mom curiously…
Hunter: Mom.. What’s this?
Jacinda: Hunter! That’s uhmm… That’s just my belt for my robe.
Hunter: Oh… It looks different. I’ve never seen you wear it. Is it like the one you’re wearing right now?
Jacinda looks down at herself and notices her robe had come undone and was extremely loose since she had bent down to pick up her panties from the floor. The belt keeping her robe together was doing a terrible job. And since she had raised back up after picking up the panties and throwing it, the robe had slid slightly off her right shoulder, exposing the wet bra strap from her beige bra she had worn all day. Under the strap, was a clearly visible red mark, caused by the stress of the bra strap being on. Especially after getting wet, it was clinging, had slid off her skin and made an almost rash like redness along the strap. Jacinda looks back at her son, who is clearly staring at her exposed bra strap, with a rare look in his eyes.
Jacinda: Yes. Yes, it’s similar. Just like this one. And I don’t wear it all the time.
Jacinda covers up and fastens up her bathrobe.
Hunter: Well, it’s a cool fabric. I think you should wear it more often. I’d love to see it.
Jacinda: Oh Okay, I will.. But I don’t know if you should see it. It’s not… nevermind. You stink young man, you need to go get a shower.
Hunter: Ahh ok yeah I know I need to. I’ll go shower quick, see you at dinner.
As Hunter is walking out of the door, Jacinda begins unfastening her bathrobe. She couldn’t wait to get out of that wretched bra. Right as she was thinking of the bra, Hunter pauses by the door, turns around.
Hunter: Mom, I think you have a rash or skin bruise of some kind on your shoulder.
Jacinda: Oh I know honey, it’s just…I need to get changed and shower.
Hunter: Didn’t you just take a shower?
Jacinda: Well. Yeah I did.
Hunter: Okay… does it hurt?
Jacinda: Hurt what?
Hunter walks towards his mother, slides the bathrobe slightly by her shoulder, pointing towards the red mark along the bra strap on her shoulder. As he slid the bathrobe exposing his mother’s bra-clad shoulder, she felt his touch again. And Jacinda felt a bolt of electricity, once again. Especially when he touched the red itchy mark caused by her bra strap. Jacinda, still processing her thoughts and feelings, blurted out,
Jacinda: No, I like it.
Hunter: What? But that must hurt.
Jacinda: No, I mean. No it doesn’t hurt. I’m good, Hunter. Go get freshened up.
Hunter: Ok Mom…see you in a bit.
Jacinda almost pushes him out of her bedroom. Locks her door, and tries to process everything that just happened. Is she overthinking it? Or did she just feel a sexual electricity flowing through her spine as her son, a man, a strong, masculine, sweaty man touched her neck, shoulder and especially that light temporary bruise on her shoulder? Jacinda was lost in thought but had to put up her best mom-face and get ready for dinner.
Dinner that evening was quite usual. There was some awkwardness with Jacinda, but she buried her thoughts deep down and pretended she didn’t just feel a sexual urge because of her own son. Hunter meanwhile seemed unperturbed and in his usual mood.
***
The Next Day: Jacinda was working in her basement office. It was 11:00am. Hunter was playing videogames with some friends in his bedroom. When he went to the Kitchen to grab a snack. Once again, the house-maid offered to help him with snacks or food and he declined. Hunter quickly fixed up a few sliders and chips with coke and went along his merry way.
Despite growing up in the luxuries of having a maid servant at home who would cook, clean and look after the house, Hunter did not like being served by these people. Because he knew they were just doing their jobs and getting paid for it. They wouldn’t want to do this job if it wasn’t paid. He also enjoyed cooking and being in the kitchen. He would often fix up various mocktails, cook new recipes, some even ended in disaster. But his mom always encouraged it. And she would enjoy watching him cook.
On his way back to his bedroom from the Kitchen, he noticed his mom’s bedroom again. It was closed this time. Hunter went and dropped off the snacks for his friends who were deeply engrossed in killing aliens with their joysticks. Hunter walked out of his room, went towards his mom’s room and knocked. No answer. He knocked again…..
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