Mom and son get very close, I’m a full-figured woman. It feels right for me, and I’m happy with it. My breasts just beg to be played with, and I use them to cushion and cuddle whichever of my lover’s body parts happen to nestle on or between them. My ass draws appreciative stares on the street, particularly when it’s squeezed into the very snug slacks or shorts that I wear to display it proudly.
I was 38 when I got divorced. After my 40-something husband chose to try life with his 20-something secretary, we sold our house and I moved, with our son Kevin, into a nice apartment. Kevin was 18 at the time.
Raising a teenager singlehandedly is never easy, but Kevin was wonderfully supportive and helpful in that difficult time when our lives were changing in every way. His help was welcome when I needed a man’s strength with something, but even more welcome were his conversation and companionship, his warm hugs and gentle kisses, and his shoulders to cry on. He was there emotionally with whatever I needed whenever I needed it. This was more than my husband had given me, and it was the main reason I loved Kevin so much.
The kisses I shared with Kevin were often more intimate than is “normal” between mothers and sons, but I didn’t believe that such shows of genuine affection could in some way be wrong. They weren’t incestuous, I convinced myself. They were just fun kisses. And I liked being treated like a woman by a young man I loved very much.
Kevin liked my sexy look and provocative teasing. He stared with hungry eyes when I wore revealing clothes, and gave me leering grins when he caught glimpses of me in just a bra and panties. He’d say things like, “Nice boobs, Mom”, or “I hope you know how great your ass looks when you wear those heels.” His rude remarks didn’t bother me. They were much-needed reassurances of my appeal to the male libido. I pretended to ignore them, but I loved them, and he knew I did.
I hadn’t had good sex for some time. The solitary games I played with my battery-powered toy collection didn’t keep me from missing the joys of a good hard fuck in the arms of a strong man.
I began fantasizing about having sex with my son. Sometimes my fantasies were about me seducing Kevin, and sometimes they were about Kevin seducing me, and sometimes they were about one of us forcing the other into having violent sex. Such thoughts were powerfully arousing fantasies, and very useful as aids to masturbation. But that was all they were — fantasies.
Kevin wasn’t a virgin when the events I’m about to describe happened. He’d had sex with more than one girl by the time he graduated from high school, but he complained that his girlfriends were disappointing partners because of their inexperience and lack of confidence regarding sex. Mature women had the qualities Kevin was looking for in a bedmate. But the only grown woman he’d fucked was the mother of a girl he was dating, and when the daughter found out about it his relationship with both of them came to a sudden end.