Fantasy Becomes Reality Ch. 01

I've heard that a woman's sexual peak begins around age thirty. I don't know if there's any medical evidence to prove that, but it certainly was true for me. My orgasms started to became far more intense, and once achieved I can draw out an orgasm for several minutes as long as there is continued stimulation to my clitoris. Think of it as several mini-orgasms strung together like beads on a necklace. It's as though someone threw a switch on my thirtieth birthday and all the sudden my libido clicked into a higher gear, because along with more potent orgasms came an increased longing to experience them. In other words, I started to feel horny all the time.

This has been something of a problem, as I am a single mother who wants to set a good example for her son. Aaron's father exited the picture before he was ever born and I've always been careful about bringing men home. I haven't wanted to confuse him on the issue of a father figure by having him get close to a man, only to have that man and I break up. I did date in my twenties, but by the time of my sexual 'awakening' I had pretty much given up on the prospect of men and marriage, focusing instead on raising a good son and my successful career as a studio photographer. I have dated occasionally, but I'm now thirty-nine and have yet to find the chemistry with a man I'm happy with.

This means I masturbate a lot. I'm like anyone else I suppose, when I masturbate, in that my mind wanders amidst varied sexual fantasies. Don't let the fact that I am near-forty and a mother confuse you, I'm no prude and I have my dark and dirty side that loves to come out when I'm aroused and buzzing away on my clit with a vibrator. It's natural for the mind to go to these places during the throes of self-pleasure, for all of us. They're just fantasies, after all. Just thoughts, rarely ever acted upon.

I was always careful about masturbation as my son grew up, limiting my activities to late at night or when Aaron wasn't home, so as not to scar the poor boy for life with the knowledge that his mother is a chronic horned-out masturbator. He, on the other hand, was never as careful. I'd often find the evidence of his masturbation in the form of soiled tissues or socks (I've never understood why men jerk-off into socks), and the occasional stroke magazine recklessly peeking out from under the bed. Any mother of a teenage boy finds such things I'm sure, and I always kept such findings to myself. No need to embarrass him, he was just doing what is normal for all of us.

It was two years ago, when Aaron was eighteen and a senior in high school, that I had my first sexual fantasy involving him. He had grown into such a handsome young man, with a body fit for underwear modeling, and the thought of him jerking off just popped into my head as I was masturbating. Thinking of his young yummy bod as he lay in bed stroking himself gave me an unusually intense orgasm. I remember brushing off the fantasy to just another one of those naughty places the mind can travel during masturbation; I probably wasn't the first mother to think of her son in that way. But it soon became a common theme amidst my masturbatory thoughts, as I would rub myself to long shuddering orgasms while thinking of Aaron stroking his cock, or imagining he and I engaged in various sexual situations.

I wondered what he fantasized about when he touched himself, and one day when he was at school I decided to do some snooping in his bedroom to see if there were any clues. Unable to resist my motherly tendencies I picked up his room a bit as I performed my detective work, gathering up discarded laundry and other assorted messes. (Why are teenage boys always such slobs?) As I started to make Aaron's bed I noticed a dark circular spot on the sheet, which was wet and sticky. I froze, realizing what it was, and realizing that it was recent. He had masturbated that very morning, probably before school, and evidently it was a gusher. Crouching at the bedside I peeked underneath and found a small pile of pornographic magazines, and guessed that the top one was likely the magazine he had used that morning. The title of it surprised me: 'MILF Muffins'.

The cover of the magazine promised 'nothing but the hottest moms and women over 30'. Flipping through the pages I saw that it was filled with naked women in their thirties and forties. I pulled out the rest of the magazines and saw that they all shared the same theme. It must have been a recent development in his pornographic tastes, because the magazines I had discovered prior to that day had been of a more standard fare, but it was clear to me that Aaron had started fantasizing about older women.

I became insanely horny imagining him with the magazines and took one of them to my own bed, looking at it as I touched myself. The one I selected had a dirty fictional story in it about a mother and her son engaged in incest. It was fairly well-written and particularly graphic, which brought me to one of my stringing stream of orgasms as I imagined the characters in the story were Aaron and I. Did he read this story too, I wondered? Did he do as I did, and entertain fantasies of sexual relations with me? Was it possible that the two of us both had the same incestuous thoughts?

I decided that it /was/ possible. It's not like I'm an unattractive woman, after all. Sure, I'm a bit more curvy than I was in my slender youth, but I've maintained my figure with regular exercise and a healthy diet. I'm particularly proud of my breasts, which are a solid D-cup and show no signs of the sagging I anticipated at my age, and I'm easily as pretty as Aaron's stroke-book models with my long dark hair and fair complexion.

I desperately wanted to find out if Aaron was attracted to me; if I was the cause of those stains on his sheets. My curiosity led me to his computer and I looked at the browser history. I found he had visited one of those sex-chat java sites almost every night. I checked it out, to make sure he wasn't into anything pervy, but it seemed pretty straightforward; just a bunch of people engaged in cyber sex. I also found several pornographic sites, all featuring mature models or erotic stories of incest between a mother and son. The evidence was mounting and my mind began to reel. My incest fantasy was suddenly something that was a very real possibility staring me right in the face.

In the days following my discovery I tried to forget all about it, to pretend that I never found Aaron's magazines or those websites. It didn't work. Every night, as I lay in bed, my fingers inevitably went between my legs as I wondered if my son was in his bedroom, at that same moment, jerking off to thoughts of me. I became obsessed, my fantasies coming to mind every time I saw my son. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help myself, and the orgasms my naughty thoughts gave me were undeniably powerful.

Late one night I heard him in his room, typing on his computer. He had already done his homework and I wondered if he was at that sex-chat site I found when checking his browser history. A plot formulated in my mind: I could log into the same site and see if I could figure out who he was, then lure him into a chat and coax out what his fantasies really were. It was devious, I know, but it was a way I could satisfy my curiosities anonymously.

I went to my room and used my laptop to log into the site, calling myself 'Single_Mom'. It wasn't hard to figure out who Aaron was, as it turned out, because he used 'Aaron_1991' (the year of his birth). I prompted a private chat with him and he was all-too willing. We got past the usual chit-chat, where I pretended to be a woman from another state into younger guys, and we eventually started talking about sex and each other's fantasies. I played coy, hinting that I sometimes had a very naughty fantasy, but that I wasn't sure if I should talk about it. After he pleaded with me, I finally admitted that I thought about what it would be like to have sex with my son. He ate it up, sharing with me that his favorite fantasy was about fucking his mother. I can't tell you how much this turned my world upside down. My suspicions were confirmed. I quickly logged out, telling him someone was at the door and that I had to go. A feeble excuse, I know, but I was shaking and could barely think to type.

The knowledge that my son fantasized about me changed things. It turned what was only a harmless masturbatory fantasy into something more tangible and within my grasp. I struggled terribly, knowing that incest was wrong, but at the same time I was flattered. Flattery can be like a powerful drug to a woman, because when we get it we often want more of it. It can overrule our common sense. This was my mindset as I began a cold war of seduction.

I began by getting my hair and nails done, the first things a woman will always do when setting her snare. Then I began wearing skimpier clothing around the house, especially in the evenings. For example, I'd wear a pair of pajama bottoms and a clinging top with spaghetti-shoulder straps which would slightly reveal my curvy hips and tummy, not to mention a bit of my ample cleavage. I made more physical contact with Aaron, like subtle little touches on his arm or shoulders when we talked, and brief hugs whenever he left the house for school or to go out with his friends.

Sunning myself in the back yard, wearing a bikini, was a favorite tactic of mine. Aaron would always come out to the yard several times to ask me if I needed anything, like something to drink, and stare at my big boobs. It was a warm Saturday in April (we live in Florida) when I told him he should join me and get some sun too. He agreed and came out in a pair of swim trunks and laid in a chair beside me. I was reading a book and pretending not to notice the fact that he kept staring at my body. Deciding to turn up the heat, I set the book aside and reached for my tanning lotion, sitting up to apply a generous amount over my legs. Aaron watched every movement. I could see that he had grown erect; it was obvious through his swim trunks and he knew it, so Aaron mumbled something and excused himself. He tried to conceal his boner as he went into the house, but it stuck out obscenely.

I felt bad for doing that to the poor boy, I'm sure he was terribly embarrassed. I followed him into the house a couple of minutes later to talk to him about it. I wanted to explain that he didn't need be embarrassed by what happened. But when I got to his bedroom door I heard a quiet slapping sound and hesitated. He was masturbating, I had gotten him so excited that he went straight to his bedroom and began jerking off! My stomach began dancing as I realized I was facing the moment of truth. If fantasy was to ever become reality I knew I could make it happen right then and there.

The tingling between my legs overruled morality and I knocked on his door. "Aaron, may I come in?"

"Uh... just a second mom!" I heard him call.

I knocked again, steeled myself, then turned his bedroom door handle and peeked in. He was in his bed, a sheet covering him to the stomach. "Are you all right honey?"

"Y-yeah." he stammered in embarrassment. "I guess I just felt tired and thought I'd take a nap."

I smiled, sitting on the edge of his bed. I became aware that I was still only clad in a bikini, because Aaron's eyes were planted on my bosoms. "It's only eleven o'clock in the morning, and you never nap. Aaron, were you... touching yourself?"

"Mom!" he exclaimed, blush filling his cheeks.

"I'm sorry Aaron, I know I shouldn't intrude, it's just that I saw your erection outside and how embarrassed you were about it. I wanted to come tell you that it was okay, that you don't need to be ashamed."

"Mom!? Jeezus, can we not talk about this?"

"There's no need to be uncomfortable, sweetheart. Really. You weren't doing anything wrong. You're a teenager, I'd be worried if you didn't masturbate."

"Oh my god, mom, seriously..."

"I do it too." I blurted out.

He stared at me, sensing something in the tone of my voice.

"I do, all the time in fact. There's no sense in lying to you, you're a man now and we should be able to talk about these things."

"Um, okay." he said, growing more at ease after my admission.

"Did I arouse you, honey? Is that why you got erect and came here to jerk off?"

He blushed again, "I'm sorry mom."

"It's okay, you don't need to apologize. I'm flattered, actually. Do you often think about me when you masturbate?"

"I... guess so. You're really sexy mom, and I know it's wrong, but..."

"Shh, I told you it's okay. Sometimes I think about you too, you know."

"You do?" he said, surprise complete.

"Of course. You're a man now, and a really handsome one at that. We live together under the same roof and it's only natural that we'd start to have these fantasies. Trust me, you're not the first son to fantasize about his mother. Shakespeare wrote a whole play about it."

"Yeah, I guess he did."

"So what do you think about when you masturbate? Do you think about fucking me?"

I'm sure my bold language and tone confused him. "Y-yes." he admitted.

"What else?"

"I guess I think about how sexy you are, what it would be like to touch you." he replied, eyes on my chest.

"Where do you think about touching me?" I pressed. Seeing his hesitation, I asked "Do you think about touching my breasts?"

"Yeah." he replied, voice barely a whisper. I could see his erection returning, as a mound formed beneath the sheet.

I wanted to see it, to see him touch it, but I knew if I stalled any longer I wouldn't go through with it. So, like jumping into a cold pool of water to get it over with, I simply crossed the line. My hand went to my back and undid the clasp of my bikini top, which fell to my lap and exposed my breasts fully to him.

Aaron's eyes went wide, "M-mom?"

"How do they look?"

"Oh my god, mom, they're beautiful."

"Do you want to touch them? Go ahead honey, I want you to."

He sat up in his bed and reached out, laying his palms against the plump fullness of my breasts, eyes locked upon them as he squeezed gently and felt their gelatinous weight. I could barely breathe as I watched and felt my own son fondling my tits, which was sending a charge of arousal right to the core of my body. I reached out, slipping my hand behind his head, and drew his mouth to one of my nipples. He latched onto it with his lips instinctively and started suckling.

"Mmm, suck on mama's tit baby. That feels so nice..."

His eyes closed as his hands dug into my tit-flesh and he drew more into his mouth, sucking hard on my soft pink areola. I held his head against my chest like I did when he was a baby feeding off my milk, luxuriating myself with the pleasure of his tongue against my stiffening tip. When he finally withdrew he stared at me with a mixture of disbelief and amazement.

"Have you ever had your hands on a set like these before?" I asked him, a reassuring smile on my face.

He shook his head, "No, all the girls I've been with are so small."

"You can play with them all you like, but I want to watch you first."

"Watch me what?"

I drew his sheet back, down past his erection. "I want to watch you masturbate honey. Will you finish yourself off so I can see you cum?" His penis looked so good, fair sized with a lovely crowning head that looked like a helmet.

"Seriously?" he asked,

I nodded. "Yes sweetie, I want you to jerk off while you look at me. I want to see how much I turn you on."

He gripped himself after my confirmation, "I can't believe this is happening."

I rubbed my own breasts to give him some incentive, lifting their weight in my palms. "Me either, but I want nothing more than to watch my baby boy jerk himself off. Go ahead honey, do it for me?"

His grasp began slowly moving up and down his shaft with practiced strokes. I let go of my breasts to let them hang freely under his gaze and slipped a hand into my bikini bottoms, turned on by the taboo of it all and needing to rub myself.

"You've gotten so sexy Aaron, I can't help myself anymore. And your cock is so nice, I've wanted to watch you touch it for so long now..."

"Oh god, mom..." he moaned, his pace increasing. "I think about you all the time. You're so hot..."

"Show me, baby, show me how hot I get you. Stroke yourself like you do when you're all alone and thinking about fucking your own mother."

"Oh fuck..." came his aroused groan. "Oh mom, I want to fuck you so bad." His fist became a blur as he began masturbating swiftly, his other hand taking hold of his scrotum and squeezing.

"That's it sweetheart, do it for mommy. Tell me how bad you want to fuck me and jerk off like you do every night when you think about sticking that beautiful cock inside me."

"I want to fuck you mom, so bad...!"

I was delirious with arousal, my most potent fantasy coming alive in front of my very eyes. I became the woman I was when alone in my room and masturbating, the kinky slut who fantasized about dark and dirty sex. My fingers and the sight of Aaron pumping himself triggered an orgasm.

"I'm cumming, Aaron!" I gasped, frigging myself furiously. "You're making mommy cum... oh god baby..."

It was like firecrackers between my legs, one going off after another, as my orgasm consumed me. I'm sure I appeared the wanton whore to my son, and it was more than he could handle. He squinted and got a look of pain, grunting in the throes of his self pleasure. His semen flew high and at an angle, a long string of it landing across his chest and stomach.

"Oh mom!" he exclaimed, more of the cum firing out as though his cock were a rifle.

"That's it baby, cum for mommy! Oh honey, yes! Cum for me..."

His torso was a sticky mess by the time his orgasm was finished. His chest heaved with a heavy breath and his eyes were glazed with the aftermath of his pleasure. "Jeezus, mom, that was so good."

"Mmm, Aaron, that was amazing." I said, smoothing my hand over his torso and letting my fingers swath through the sticky mess he had made. "You came so good, I can't believe how much of it there is. God that was sexy."

"I always cum a lot when I think about you." he said, growing more comfortable in our sudden and taboo situation.

"Do you think about me a lot when you masturbate?" I asked.

"Almost every time. Do you really think about me too?"

I nodded, still caressing his chest and stomach as I sat next to him on the bed's edge, my breasts swaying slightly with the movements of my arm. "Yes. Probably just as often."

He grinned widely, "That's so hot mom, I didn't know you were so kinky."

"Well now you know. But Aaron, we have to keep this to ourselves, okay? I have no idea, but what we just did is probably illegal in a few states. I mean, we're both adults and what happens in this house is for us to decide, but it's not something anyone else needs to know."

"I understand mom. I can keep a secret."

"Good, thank you honey."

"So... can I still play with your boobs?"

I smiled, then pivoted to lay beside him. "I suppose so, scoot over." My tits spilled to either side as I lay on my back beside Aaron. He sat up and marveled at them, taking one into each of his hands and mashing his fingers into my soft flesh.

"They feel so good." he whispered.

"They're all yours. A deal is a deal, and you held up your end of the bargain. You can do whatever you like with them."

Aaron laid his head upon my chest, nuzzling against me. His hands pushed my tits together, propping them against the sides of his face. I smiled as he played with them, got lost within them. He was like a boy with a new toy. My boy. My beautiful baby boy. I don't know how long I laid there for him, thirty minutes perhaps. Maybe longer. His fascination with my breasts was wondrous and I wanted him to take as much time as he wanted. His hands explored every inch of them, and he spent a lot of time simply sucking on my nipples. I'd make soft little mewing noises whenever he did something that felt good, to let him know I enjoyed it. I caressed his head and hair affectionately as he laid beside me and suckled. Any questions I had regarding the morality of it all flew from my mind. It felt good, felt right, and I loved him deeply. I wanted to give him all he desired. I could tell it made him happy.