How it clings, how it hugs.
Just add water. *NB
Case #:1010, Park Slope, Brooklyn. Mother here. So I live with my husband and our son, and my boy is reaching that age where he’s… curious. He’s probably reached that point a while ago but lately it’s been becoming very obvious, and in our usually quiet household, my husband and I can easily hear the door to his room lock and the subsequent shower less than ten minutes later. It’s always been a bit cute and hubby smiles knowing our son was doing the usual behavior teens do. I asked my husband why our son was suddenly masterbating so much and he blamed it on my constant cleavage, not sure if he was joking or not. Maybe I did arouse my son… Hopefully I did. The more I thought about it, the more the prospect actually excited me, and after a while I confided that desire to my husband, full of guilt but he consoled me, told me he was glad to have such a wife around that can be that type of mother. Oh we fucked so hard that night, it might’ve been the wine we had for dinner that lubricated and preceded that sexual discussion but it was safe to say we were on the same page. I fucked loud too, hopefully loud enough to wake my son up so he can creep down the hall and watch me, maybe start jerking off while looking. Just pondering that thought brought me to my first orgasm that night.
Anyway, the next morning I wanted to test out the theory of being my son’s object of desire, so I cooked breakfast with tight pants and purple top, my workout attire, with a nice view of my breasts and I could see him burning a hole in them. My boy looked down in guilt, and I just smiled at him, as he rushed his raisin bran and bacon and scurried to his room, so fast he forgot to lock his door! I think this was more than serendipity at this point, and his dad left for work already so I decided to take it a step further.
I walked slowly to his room, and heard him furiously jerking off through the door. My own son thinking of me, probably my breasts that his birth long ago helped to make larger, and I couldn’t help it. My mind wasn’t reasoning, and though I was thinking that I should just be a normal mother, let him finish and walk away, my hands were already pulling down my top, exposing my breasts, getting in a few quick squeezes of the nipple to get going and before I could register how wrong this all was I opened his door and walked right into his room, both of us looking a bit shocked.
I know he would’ve lunged for the laptop screen at this point, pulled up his pants but I think my tits caught him off guard, and he just froze, not sure what was happening, his hand still tightly gripping his rather large cock. It felt like I glided to him, and I stopped in front of my son, sat down on the floor and leaned back, and I was not one for sex talk or witty dialogue, but I looked up at my son and told him he wasn’t going to need those tissues anymore, to throw them out and “cum on mommy.”
I felt so bad right after I said that, almost wanting to cover myself up, but not because of what I said but rather how wet it made me. But I laid there, and he never said anything. After a moment he started stroking again, slowly to get back into his vibe but a couple minutes later his hand was a blur, and I soon saw my own son climaxing; I could tell, because he was acting, convulsing just like his father. I leaned back some more, reminded him of how much I loved him, and at that moment he shot one of the biggest loads I’d ever seen. It was a lot of spunk coming from someone his age, and we both stayed still, looking at each other, him over me with his penis dripping a little bit more of his seed, and I gasped playfully and told him how proud I was. So proud, that I spontaneously suggested he take a photo of it. He whipped out his smart phone and snapped one photo, which I was sure he would be using to jerk off to again. Another thought I would use on lonely nights.
Anyway, later that day my husband came home, and while we were already quite open with each other, I was thinking of keeping this little session a secret. He acted cool, I acted normal, up until bedtime where he hugged me tightly, before showing me a photo of my cum-covered breasts. My son got cocky and sent it to him! Looking at that photo for the first time already made me a bit wet, but then I looked at him, wondering his response. He stared and me and reminded me that I was going to be a great mother. We kissed for a few minutes, and I never had felt more relieved, ever in my life. Or aroused. Hubby knew this, and pulled back, and suggested I sleep in our son’s room tonight, to continue “being a good mother.” I was so excited now, and I obliged him, rushing to my son’s room, and a few minutes later I was on top of my son, groaning even louder still, now hoping that hubby would be the one listening and jerking off while I took real, real good care of my family that night.
"Yup, still straight!"
An inside joke that started between my moms that went against the criticisms they constantly received as two women raising an only son. Every week, we had a picnic and they flaunted their breasts, and I would inevitably get aroused and they would laugh like schoolgirls while looking at my tightening pants and my flushed cheeks. They felt no physical attraction towards me, even as I stripped naked down to my bare erection, but they wanted to make sure their son was as happy as could be, and laid me down next to them and took care of me better than all the other straight girls in my life that swooned over me. They let me do whatever I wanted to them; that was true motherly love.