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Rights and Wrongs Ch. 01

By: GeorgieH



We all make mistakes in life and sometimes there's hell to pay, sometimes heaven. You know, I'm not sure which bill was presented to me? Probably the wrong one...

Putting it simply, I got caught out, caught by surprise. I was totally out of my depth and in many ways I still am... but I guess I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'm no brave, bold woman who knows her own mind and always make sure she gets what she wants. I'm shy – honestly. This thing is taking the form of a confession for me, and this is the fifth attempt I've made to get the words down. It's not that they've come out wrong before, it's just that I've got too shy seeing them and simply chickened out from writing more. Not this time, I promise (not that you'd read that if I chicken out again, of course!).

Still here for once...

It started on a dull Saturday morning, the weather as grey as our mangy old cat, and I was in one of those moods when all I wanted to do was get the bills paid online before embarking on a round of super-serious house cleaning. As usual, the online sites were being as co-operative as ever and I had spent more than twenty minutes trying to settle a pitifully tiny account with the telephone company – it would have been quicker to go visit their head office carrying a bagful of loose change. I was busy tearing a few blonde hairs – naturally blonde, I might add – from my stressed head when my teenage son, Ben, slouched into the room. At eighteen he was lanky, lazy and would have made a perfect doorstop if I could have convinced him to stay still for more than five minutes at a time where I needed him to be.

Ben was a perfect son, of course – what mother's son isn't – but drove me to distraction. His endless pacing around the house, normally with his iPod plugged into his never-visible ears, was distracting, to be sure, but then he would settle on the couch or his bed and remain immobile to the point where I was often tempted to prod his seemingly lifeless body to see if there would be a reaction. The teenage years were stretching into their fourth decade (it seemed) and for the last few years he had done little other than grow some very fluffy facial hair and extended his vocabulary to almost double figures.

I lie, of course. Ben was, when he wanted to be, a passionate speaker on a wide range of subjects – it's just that those times seemed to be several years apart. He was due to go off to university at the end of the Summer vacation, but I seriously worried that it would take him another few months before he would be able to ask directions. Don't get me wrong though – I do tend to exaggerate – because he'd grown from a boy to a young man in seemingly no time at all. He was now taller than me, wider than me and had a rakish attractiveness that, I hate to admit, provoked a tiny bit of jealousy in me despite our gender difference.

Despite my network frustrations that morning, I wasn't entirely disappointed to see him wander, yawning, into the room. "Hey, Ben, it's only eleven o'clock, what rattled you out of bed?"

"Couldn't sleep with all the banging down here."

I looked down at my keyboard and tried not to imagine just how loud I had been hammering at it during the past half an hour, "I wasn't that loud, surely?"

"Ma, you were hitting that thing harder than Ian Paice ever hit the anything."

That was typical of Ben – I'm sure he knew full well that a reference to the Deep Purple drummer was likely to stop me in whatever tracks I'd been about to embark on. And it worked. Rather than proclaim my innocence I started to explain myself instead, "I've just been trying to pay the phone bill and you wouldn't believe how frustrating this site is."

"Somewhere around eight on the Richter scale," he nodded.

"Well you wouldn't keep your calm if you'd been trying to do it!"

Ben shuffled over to my shoulder and looked down at the screen, "Doesn't look too complicated to me."

"Well it is," I assured him, "every time I click on the 'settle account' button it loops around and just shows me their latest special offers."

He reached down and moved the mouse pointer over to another 'settle' button that, I hate to admit, I hadn't seen in all the minutes I had been clicking away, "Try that one."

I clicked the mouse and the screen dissolved into a 'pay now' array. "Oh," I said.

"See, ma? They just put the other one there to..." 

He paused and I assumed he was just searching for a few polite words to use instead of the ones that must have sprang readily to mind.

"Um, yeah, they, er, just want you to... to see all they sell. Make you, er, tempted."

"Well, thanks, I guess. And sorry for the noise."

Ben cleared his throat, his mouth close to my right ear, "I'll, er, just stay here and make sure everything else goes okay if you like?"

I shrugged, trying not to show my gratitude. This wasn't like the churlish Ben at all, but I wasn't about to turn away the offer of a security blanket in case I ended up re-mortgaging the house or paying several thousand to the phone company, "That'd be great," I said, "and I'll sort out some breakfast... lunch when I'm done, okay?"

He cleared his throat again and I hoped he wasn't coming down with a cold, "Sure, ma, that'd be... um, great."

It was reassuring to have him standing over my shoulder and I managed to make the payment – the correct payment – in just a couple of minutes, and with only two diversions into the 'special offers' page. I sat back as far as I could with Ben behind me and smiled a tad triumphantly, "All done. Want some lunch now?"

"Um, what? Oh, er, yeah. I'll just... go up to my room for a coupla minutes if that's good?"

"Go on then. I'll give you a call when it's ready."

He disappeared with more speed than he normally showed when someone asked him to help with the cleaning, but that suited me fine. Our kitchen was 'compact' according to the guy that had sold me the property and it was clear he must have been a cat-lover – there was certainly no room to swing one – and with Ben upstairs I had just about enough room to fix a quick snack.

I walked into the little room and bent to retrieve some bacon from my small fridge. And stopped in a half-crouch. My blouse – a nice, summery thing in light, white cotton – was only buttoned at the very bottom of the bodice and gaped wide. It was, as I said, a Saturday, and I almost never wore a bra at home during the weekends. This weekend was no exception, and my fairly small – but still not gravitationally-challenged – breasts were plainly visible. My mind worked overtime. I had been sitting in front of my computer just like that and Ben, unusually for him, had stood and made sure I didn't click the wrong things.

He had stood just behind my shoulder, staring down at the computer screen. Or at least, staring down. Looking at what I was looking at now, maybe. But surely my own son wouldn't... I mean, he'd never look at me like that, would he? That couldn't be the reason he had so unusually waited for me to pay the bill, surely?

But he was still just about a teenager. He had another fifteen months before his twentieth and teenagers would look at... No, he couldn't have done. Surely?

I stood up and fumbled the three buttons into their buttonholes. I straightened the front of the blouse. I didn't for a second feel anything but vague horror.

I'm shy, right? I told you that. I didn't – wouldn't, couldn't – feel anything stirring deep within me. Any feeling that amounted to a flutter of excitement at the thought of being seen so accidentally exposed that way... I couldn't honestly feel that, could I?

I threw the packet of bacon onto the granite-effect counter, barely remembering to thank the deity of kitchens that it didn't cause the granite-effect to ripple or tear. I wasn't feeling anything bad or wrong. Ben might have – might have – seen down my blouse and kept looking, but that was purely a natural teenage reaction to bare flesh and no more, right? I couldn't blame him for that or myself for something that was entirely accidental. And I wasn't really feeling anything except mild shame, was I? Really.

It was over and done, a silly accident, and I wasn't even allowing myself to believe that he really had looked, had he? I mean, he wouldn't, would he? Not staring down at his own mother's bared breasts... no, he had been entirely focused on the computer. He wouldn't have even noticed my state of dress, right?

And I wasn't – just wasn't – feeling anything deep inside.

He hadn't even noticed the blouse, I was suddenly sure. And I was so glad. He would have said something. He will be just normal when he comes back down for his lunch.

That's what ran through my mind as I took bread from a pack and toasted it. As I fried the bacon, added some fresh lettuce and processed cheese to the sandwich, and finally added the bacon. I blanked my mind of all but the food, and never thought once about how I would react when Ben came down.

I called to him and then focused on the doorway, the sandwich on a plate in my right hand. His footsteps were none too slow on the stairs and he appeared in record time. Not a good sign. His eyes, though, gave the game away.

Ben's baby-blues were focused below my neck even before he set foot in the kitchen. They lingered on my blouse for more than a second – which sounds so quick when you say it like that, but which seemed like hours to me right then – before flicking up to my face and then quickly switching to the plate. 

"Thanks, ma," he said, taking the plate.

"You're welcome," I managed, turning away just the second I had released his lunch.

*****

It was a long afternoon for me, and all because of that one second when Ben's eyes had focused on what had earlier been a rather different view of me. No matter how I argued with myself, no matter what excuses I managed to arrive at – human nature even being one of them – I couldn't in the end deny that he must have looked earlier. And that there had been a flicker of disappointment on my boy's face when he had come into the kitchen and saw that I was properly covered.

He had looked at me, looked at my naked breasts, when he was pretending to help with my online bill payment, and he had looked again when he'd come down for his lunch, disappointed to see that I was now all buttoned up.

While he munched his way through his lunch he had avoided all eye contact with me, had been quiet even by his own normally taciturn standards. The plate, when empty, had been washed, dried and stored in its rack in record time before Ben had dashed from the room back up to his own territory.

I was almost one hundred percent sure that what I had believed happened – his ogling of me – had really occurred. I didn't exactly blame him as such but I found it shocking, alarming in a way, and so highly inappropriate. The flicker of feeling deep in my stomach was, I was sure, a hangover from my younger years when the 'tease and dare' had been a fun-filled time with Ben's own father in our early twenties.

I paced the small house – the downstairs section, anyway – and tried to work out just how close I was to that one hundred percent certainty mark. By the time the clock ticked noisily through five o'clock I had convinced myself that there was still a margin of doubt, and by six it had grown to somewhere in the region of double figures, percentage-wise.

But I had also convinced myself that, somehow, some way, I needed to know for sure. It sounds vaguely stupid now, but can you really, honestly blame me?

It had nothing to do with how I looked – fit, I considered, for my age – and nothing to do with me in any other way, excepting, possibly, how I might best ensure that my modesty was maintained in the months before Ben left for university. I just needed to know if I was right about my son, and, if I was, then just how odd and almost creepy was the whole scenario?

Overcoming my technophobia I spent an hour Googling site after site trying to find out what other people thought, whether other mothers had been required to face up to such things – all the time, my ears pricked higher than a rabbit's in case Ben decided to leave his pit (or room, if you prefer) and interrupt me.

A lot – most – of the sites were clearly populated by fakes and wishful thinkers, the majority, I was sure, young guys fantasising. But even that in its own right was pause for thought – there were so many fantasists out there, surely? I even tried a few stories and some horrifying – but clearly staged – video postings. 

By seven-thirty I was sitting back, thinking that there were a whole lot more incidences of fantasy, and maybe even reality, when it came to the mother-son thing than I would ever have imagined possible. But I still wasn't completely convinced about Ben on any level, and I still felt a compulsion to somehow find out for sure. There wasn't even anyone I could talk to about it – always assuming that I could get over my innate shyness long enough to utter such horror. 

Deep down, I knew it wouldn't be difficult to work out the truth of the situation, and I knew I could ignore any feelings of any sort that passed through me if I was to do this. While I had been clicking away, the top button of my blouse had slid open of its own accord and I realised that the ones below must have done the same that morning when I was frantically clicking. I stretched my arms wide and sure enough a second button popped open.

I looked down and saw the swell of my small breasts. I used trembling fingers to open a third button so that the blouse gaped just as it had that morning and stared at my now fully bared breasts, the nipples bright pink and this time rather hard. If I stayed like that and pretended not to notice, called Ben down for some supper... well, then I would know by the direction his gaze took, right? And it was no more than I had accidentally showed earlier, no greater crime. 

Except this would be no accident. But of course, to Ben it would be, wouldn't it?

I stood and went through to the kitchen, opened two pizza boxes and slipped the contents onto pizza trays. My mind was entirely on automatic as I turned on the oven and waited until it was hot enough to slip the pizzas inside. I poured a large, neat vodka and drained the glass in one long swallow. Then I replenished the tumbler and stood with my back against the counter, waiting for the pizzas to cook.

*****

I could barely think as the clock noisily, but desperately slowly, clicked off the minutes. All I could focus on was the facts that I needed to appear as if I had no clue as to how my blouse was gaping open and that I needed to make sure I followed his every reaction, his every look. The time arrived and I slid the pans out of the oven, quickly slicing the pizzas a sliding them onto plates. Without a further thought I called up the stairs, telling my Ben to come down for supper. As the floorboards above my head creaked to announce my son was beginning his journey I splashed some water on the floor and knelt down with a hastily grabbed cloth and a bowl to mop up the mess. There was no way I was going to chance my weirdly attired appearance looking like anything other than a complete accident.

That still didn't stop me almost swallowing my tongue when he shuffled into the room.

"Y... your supper's on the side there."

"Thanks, ma. You spill something?"

He might have been university bound, but that didn't stop him stating the obvious sometimes, "Just a glass of water," I managed. I wrung the cloth out into the bowl then threw it into the sink just above my head. I took a deep breath, then another. Then I stood up, placing the bowl on the counter, and before I could chicken out, turned to face my son. "I hope meat feast is good for you?"

"It's fu... fine."

His eyes were fixed on my blouse, on my barely covered breasts, and I felt my insides turn to jelly. I knew he could still prove his relative innocence by pointing out my 'accidental' exposure. But I also knew that if he said nothing about it, if he continued to enjoy the view then that would just prove something else entirely. He fumbled a slice of pizza up to his mouth and took a small bite. But he didn't say anything about my exposed flesh, my supposedly inadvertently gaping top.

"Pizza hot enough?" I managed, my head starting to swim.

Ben swallowed noisily, his eyes barely flicking away from my front as he managed to nod, "Well hot."

"Good. You eating that down here with me?"

He nodded, taking another highly distracted bite, "You bet."

I pushed a stool towards him, my mind not just swimming now, but thrashing around like a mad thing. I sat up on the room's other stool and still – still – made no effort to 'realise' the wardrobe malfunction had occurred, "Well that's good then. Enjoy!"

I'd thought about things so hard during hours and hours that afternoon but I had totally ignored the odd, barely felt feeling in the pit of my stomach. Now it flared like a camera flash. Ben was pretending not to notice my revealing blouse and its contents, and as I took a bit of my own pizza I glanced down at his shorts – he was wearing a faded pair of running shorts and an even more faded t-shirt – and saw a distinct bulge. He wasn't just looking, he was enjoying the view. 

After all my research during the previous few hours that didn't really shock me. It was unexpected but no longer a shock. What did shock me was the way my body – and my mind – reacted to my son's obvious excitement. I was, quite suddenly, feeling the most intense arousal. It was quite unlike anything else I had ever experienced before, a deep sensation that was both light and dark – so right and yet so wrong. I realised with a lurch of something close to panic that my nipples, my exposed nipples, were hardening. 

I twisted around quickly and set my plate on the counter, slipping off my stool and making sure my back was turned away from Ben's searching gaze, hoping that he wouldn't realise that there was any excitement being felt by me as well as him. "I, uh, just remembered I promised to call Stephie, back in a tick!" I almost ran from the room and up the stairs to my room.

I had no way of knowing whether Ben believed my story or whether he maybe thought I'd suddenly realised the extent of may nakedness – but in a way, hoped it was the latter. It somehow confirmed that it must have been an accident and that I was highly embarrassed.

But as I leant back against my door, heart hammering and mouth very dry, I knew in my heart-of-hearts that whatever my son might be thinking, the only embarrassment I felt was in the extent of the arousal I was undeniably feeling. No matter how it made me cringe in shock and near-disbelief I could no longer deny that Ben's eyes on my bared breasts had inflamed a passion within me that I though all but dead and buried. It wasn't that I no longer entertained the occasional guy (for 'entertained', read 'fucked'), but my real passions had died not long after Ben's father had walked out on us nearly six years before. This, right now, was the hottest and most fired up I had felt for so very long and the moisture that I could feel actually leaking at the top of my thighs was as real as it was shocking.

I turned to the mirror perched on my dressing table and looked long and hard at my reflection. The blouse still gaped, maybe even wider after the dash up the stairs, and my neat, little breasts stared back at me as they heaved with each shuddering breath I took. I lifted the long, summery skirt, baring the little white panties that almost steamed, a dark patch indicating just how moist the whole incident had made me. I rested my right hand against them, against my throbbing womanhood, and gasped quietly as I realised just how truly aroused I was, just how close I was to a near-unbelievable climax. 


Rights and Wrongs Ch. 01



My mind swam back more than a dozen years, to days with Ben's father when I last found myself in such a state of the deepest arousal. I remembered a hundred times when we had played one silly game or another and where I had come close to being seen in various states of undress, or even during climax. I shuddered and looked frantically at the reflection of my shocked face, yanking my hand away from my wetness, letting the skirt cover the evidence of my passion. I pulled the two halves of my blouse together, holding them closed across my tingling breasts.

Then I let them go as my mind switched off most of its logic circuits. I tucked the hem of the blouse a little deeper under my waistband, making the view of bared flesh just a little less obvious, then picked up my phone. I didn't let myself think as I turned and opened the door, saying to the dial tone 'Okay, I'll see you then'. I crossed to the top of the stairs and started to make my way down.

*****

I heard Ben's voice before he had even seen me, seen my brazen, thoroughly unnatural (surely?) exposure.

"How was aunt Stephie?"

"She's just fine," I managed, my voice remarkably calm even as I walked straight into the kitchen, never once allowing myself to think properly.

"Oh, that's gr... um, great!"

"You know my sister, always great," I said, almost sauntering back to my stool, demolishing half a pizza slice before I had even got properly seated. "She wanted to know if you were happy enough, as well."

Ben swallowed hard, either the last of his pizza, or the last of his disbelief, "Oh, yeah, I'm just perfect."

"Well that's good then. Better than good, I guess. Anything wrong?"

Ben was staring again, "Fu... nothing, ma, nothing."

I was losing control and put the remains of the pizza back on my plate, "No swearing, young man. And now tell the truth, what's wrong? What's got you so edgy"

Ben's mouth opened and closed a few times and I could see that he was deliberating as to whether he dare state the truth, at least about my supposedly errant blouse, and risk never seeing me like it ever again. I coughed and sought out his eyes. "Ben?"

"M-ma?"

"Son, I know."

His eyebrows rose and I could see fear enter his gaze, "Know... know what?"

It was without a doubt the most blatant, deliberate sexual moment of my life up until then. I lifted my hands from where they sat gathered on my skirt, touched the edges of my open blouse, my eyes locked on my son's, "I know that you have enjoyed the loose buttons."

"But, ma–" 

"It's okay," I tried to smile, "It's a real surprise, but I can understand, you know?"

A frown creased my boy's otherwise youthful brow, "I don't... don't–" 

A sudden moment of panic sizzled through my already fiery mind, "You don't think I'm not too ancient and awful looking, do you? I mean, is the view too bad?"

"Oh jeez, ma! I mean no!" His eyes rolled for a moment before he said words that almost drenched my thighs, "Ma, mum, I didn't mean to look but... jeez, I couldn't help it! You're, like, so hot!"

"You didn't think to tell me my blouse had come open?" Guess what answer I wanted?

"Well, I mean I know I should've, but, oh jeez, ma, have you any idea how hot you look that way?"

I got it.

Ben rattled on, nervous but now clearly thinking that if he's come this far then he might as well tell all of the truth. Bonus. "I'm sorry, ma, if it's so wrong to you, but... but for me it's like 'wow', and... and... if it's, like, so totally wrong for me to say it, then, well, I'll move out early and we can just–" 

"No!" The right answer, another bonus, but then everything was in danger of unravelling. I could see that he was already thinking he was in this far so he might as well come clean, but that left me to do the same. Goodbye logic circuits entirely. "Ben, it's... look. It's okay!"

"It's what?"

"It's okay. I mean it. I don't know what to say really, but I can't admit even to myself you're wrong in any way. And..." The logic circuits were trying desperately to kick back in. But failed. "And I have to say that shock or no shock, it's a bit of a thrill for me. More than a bit. But, Ben, other than a lucky view, a lucky accident, why does it get you so worked up? Tell me the truth now."

Ben stopped and stared at me. Stared into my eyes in a way he seldom did, his eyes so deep and serious. I think maybe his own logic circuits had burned out. "Ma... I mean it, you're so hot... Look, I admit it, okay? I've been looking at you for, like, years and... and you're so hot. Always have been for me."

"Yeah, right," my heart was pounding loud enough to wake our deaf old neighbour, "but what about all those pretty young things you've been out with these last few years?"

He shrugged, "They're available and you never have been, never could be."

"That's got to be pure, unadulterated bull."

"No!" I had been about to continue but he interrupted me, "Ma, have you... don't you realise how good you look? Especially to me."

There was an intensity to his look that took me by surprise – as if I hadn't already been shocked enough that day, "But why? I'm nearly forty, Ben!"

"For a start, you don't look nearly that old, ma, and anyway, I've always thought you were, like, real pretty but... fuck it, ma – sorry, didn't mean to swear – but, ma, it was like four years back or something and I saw you in that real flimsy bra and knickers set you were going to wear under some outfit or something and I dashed out of your room when you walked in and, like, I was all apologies later but... but, ma, I couldn't get this feeling out of my head, yeah? You got me so excited and ever since... well, I keep looking and hoping and... I never seen more than... I mean it's never been much and then today," his eyes dropped to my partially bared breasts and my heart rate hit four figures, "today I saw you like this, and I just couldn't take my eyes off you when I thought you weren't looking, didn't realise your top was open. I know I should have said something, know I've been being so bad thinking these things!"

"I don't," I managed to say.

"What?"

"I don't think you've been wrong today if that's how you've truly felt all this time."

"Ma, you have to be joking me!"

I shook my head, as much to quieten any rogue logic circuits as to clear my thoughts. "No jokes. I never realised. Anything. Never realised how you felt." I paused, remembering the night when he'd been in my room when I'd walked in wearing nothing but the skimpiest of under-things. For almost half a decade I thought I'd either scared or embarrassed him close to rigor mortis and I had been so extra-careful to stay well covered around him ever since. Perhaps I had some catching up to do... "If... if you're serious, Ben, if you really think those things...."

"Ma?"

"Tell me, do you really mean what you're saying?"

His eyes dropped to my barely covered breasts again and he nodded, almost furiously, "Jeez, ma, yes!"

"Promise me one thing then."

"Anything!"

"Promise me," I said, not really believing what I was saying, "that you will never, ever tell anyone about what we've just said, and what we'll say next."

"Ma, I promise. And if it helps you believe me, your top's still undone and I'll give a thousand promises if it burns up time so you stay that way!"

I laughed, genuine delight bubbling up at my son's candour and his naivety. "What if I said that I love that you're looking? Me mad at you? No. I do love it. I never had any idea I ever could – any mother could – but... but I love what you've just said and I love your reaction to me. I know it's bad of me but that's the way it is. And it's why my blouse is unbuttoned right now."

"Do you mean..."

"I mean I'm standing here quite deliberately. And if you need any further proof... I won't stop you if you ask me to take it off completely."

His eyes widened but if I'd expected any further reticence then I'd got that very wrong indeed, "Oh, ma, yes! I mean please. Oh fuck – sorry – Oh jeez yes please!"

I pulled the tails of the blouse out of my skirt, still staring deep into my boy's eyes. With fingers that shook rather than trembled I flipped open the lowest button. "Really sure?"

He nodded faster than I thought a human head could move, "Sure as anything!"

*****

A part of me thought that I was at the extreme end of the possibilities of behaviour that could be possible. Even as I slid the blouse down my arms and let it fall to the floor, as I stood there in my son's eager gaze, I still thought that I had reached the end of a mythical rainbow that I had never realised even existed. I was topless, naked to his stare, my breasts totally exposed – and I was loving the tremors of arousal that coursed through me. I smiled with a quiet but deep delight.

Then Ben reached forward and grabbed my hand.

If I'd thought that I was aroused before, if I'd imagined that I had crossed as far as possible into forbidden territory – and was loving it – that clasp of my hand told me I was so very wrong. And that I was now into a completely different, wilder, and even more arousing landscape.

If exposing yourself to your son was acceptable under these circumstances then what else was?

I lifted Ben's shaking hand with my own trembling one and rested it on my shoulder. I shrugged at him, not trusting myself to say the words that were orbiting my brain – we're come this far, so... - "Times seem to be changing," I managed.

He nodded back and his hand slipped a few inches down my arm.

I didn't move a muscle, except a few deep inside my belly.

His hand slipped onto the front surface of my arm so that it was almost brushing my left breast.

"You know," I whispered, "I really should stop you now?"

He nodded again. And still I didn't move.

With a sound that I can only call a whimper, Ben's hand slid across to my naked breast and he – my son – cupped my nakedness. Who knows who groaned loudest?

"Oh, Ma, you're..." he gave the gentlest squeeze, "gorgeous!"

"Even these tired old things?"

His squeeze was firmer now, a caress, and he raised his other hand to my nakedness, "Oh yes. Your br... boobs are so firm still, so, so, gorgeous!!"

"My tits," I said, "I prefer that word when things get... non-medical. Get a little sexual, even."

"Your tits," he nodded, caressing them so that my hard nipples pressed so firmly into his open palms. "I love them!"

"Kiss them then."

"What?"

"Ben, I haven't felt your mouth there for so many, many years. I want it there now!" And I did. So very, very much.

He dropped his head lower and within a second his lips parted around my left nipple. The touch was electric and electrifying and I gasped, managing to say 'yes' loudly enough that he wasn't scared enough to stop.

There was no way I could control my reactions, no way I could stem the wave or pure arousal that coursed through me. I let my hands slither down my bare stomach and press against my hot womanhood through my skirt. I felt a flash of horror when I realised that the climax I had felt so close earlier was now unstoppable and would arrive at any second. The flash fizzled out at the feel of my hands and Ben's mouth suckling – sucking – at my naked tit. 

"Oh, Ben, oh yes!"

There was a momentary pause in his mouthing as he must have glanced up at me to ensure I wasn't trying to stop things but as my belly started to twitch in ecstasy he redoubled the deep sucking , his mouth even switching from left to right nipple.

The first true pulse of climax shuddered through me, turning my knees weak, bringing an odd mewling noise from my throat, "Oh my Ben, my boy! Oh yes, yes, yes, yes!"

I'd known all along that I was due a particularly powerful orgasm but this was mind-numbingly intense. As my Ben's mouth sucked and hands squeezed I yowled and twitched and shook. My yelps of affirmation, the repeated cries of 'yes' and the growling, delighted groans and moans grew louder and freer. I told my son – wailed at him in pleasure – that he was making me climax, making me cum, that he shouldn't stop, that I loved and adored him. And I cum and cum, my belly jerking and dancing with wave after wave of the sort of intense joy that I had never before felt.

For some seconds – maybe a minute or more – I totally lost my mind to the waves of pleasure.

I gasped my way back to full awareness and total acknowledgement, replete with a delight that I found close to beyond comprehension and yet so fully real – and knew that I was, for the moment, that night, experiencing a new circumstance, and one in which I was but a part. I pulled Ben's head level with my own and stared into his eyes, my own, I'm sure, still wild with desire. I licked my lips, cocking my head to one side. An offer.

Ben's lips, fresh from my breasts, closed on my own and, yes, I kissed him. He was tentative at first, scarcely able to believe the contact we now shared. And then I felt the tip of his tongue press forward and I let my mouth relax, let that tongue gain entrance, met its trembling thrust with the wetness of my own eager tongue. By the second he relaxed and yet became more urgent, more thrusting. My mouth opened wider and I let him fully kiss me, let his tongue wrestle passionately with my own.

I knew, of course, that I had climaxed so hard, and knew also, that I was nothing if not fair. I pulled him close, feeling the heat and hardness of his erect cock as it met the tops of my thighs. He began to grind against me and I leant back, encouraging his passion, cupping his firm, flexing butt cheeks, holding him tight against me.

My son's hands pawed at my breasts as his kiss deepened, his tongue pressing further into my willing mouth and his hardness pushing against the spreading wetness of my uppermost thighs. 

I felt his whole body jerk and twitch even as he mewled deep into my mouth and I managed to nod my head, encouraging his passions. With a final, hard thrust against me I knew that he was climaxing, that I had helped my boy to cum.

Gasping, we broke the kiss and leaned a little apart, eyes – full of shock and joy – locked. 

I smiled. "I needed that!"

There was a pause. And then we laughed – at the same time.

*****

Somehow we managed to wander into the living room and sat beside each other on the sofa, the atmosphere surreal and yet relaxed. I was still topless and Ben was still stealing welcome looks at my bared breasts.

"Am I still not too weird?" I asked him.

"Still beyond gorgeous, more like."

"Any idea what happens next?"

Ben shook his head.

"No idea at all?"

Another shake.

I pursed my lips and shrugged. "Me neither. That wasn't exactly planned, you know?"

"I figured, ma. But..."

"But?"

"I don't know how to say it."

I wasn't sure I knew what he was trying to say although I had an idea. I just didn't know how I was going to reply. Could I ever let something like that happen again? "Try me."

"Ma, that was like a dream come true. But... but...."

"Oh, Ben, say anything, ask anything. It's not like there's anything that we could hardly hide from each other now, is there?"

"I guess not... Ma, it's about 'next'."

I nodded, "Makes sense."

"Can I..."

"Out with it, because the answer's probably 'yes'." See? I knew he'd want a repeat...

"Can I see your legs, you with your skirt off?"

I sat forward, shocked for about the twentieth time that day. As his words sunk in, I was shocked to discover that he had hit the 'arouse her' spot yet again. "Ben!"

"Sorry, sorry, I was just getting carried away."

I stood up and faced him, "Carried away? You can say that again!"

As his face fell into an expression of the deepest remorse I switched off any lingering logic circuits. "I'm not sure how the hell you're doing this, but..." I fumbled with the zipper of my skirt, undoing it, and then fumbled more to release the button that was all that was now holding it up. It fell to the floor. "But, carried away seems to be working for both of us."

My son's eyes almost popped out of his head as he stared up at me, drop his eyes and stared almost level with my white panties – soaked white panties. "Carried away," he nodded.

"Any more requests?" I was vibrating.

"I... I..."

"Very erudite. Does 'I... I...' mean you still think I'm overdressed?"

"Y... yes?"

Ben's uncertainty destroyed the last vestiges of restraint that might – might, note – have remained over my sense of normalcy. "Well," I said, "I guess it's an odd day." I slipped my fingers under the waistband of that drenched garment and pulled it down to my ankles, slipping my feet free to stand before my son. "Better?"

"Oh fuck yes!"

"No apology for the swearing this time?"

He shook his head. "You trim it. It's beautiful. You're totally beautiful."

Something exploded deep inside me. "Thank you. But I'm naked." I said, "You're not. And you still haven't apologised for swearing."

As Ben rose to his feet just a few inches away from me I knew I could still stop things. And I knew I wouldn't. He stripped in lightning time and I was finally rewarded with the sight of him pulling down his boxers, his – my son's – engorged cock springing free.

"Ma," he managed, "I can't apologise for swearing. You are too fucking gorgeous."

I choked a laugh, shocked by everything, aroused by it all, "And?"

He touched me, one hand on my shoulder, and I felt more naked, more alive, than I ever had before. It was all so very wrong and yet all so very right. I laid my hand on his and smiled.

Hunger was evident in every look, every tiny gesture. There was no movement for a few seconds as tensions rose and rose. And then the wave of emotion broke for both of us, the last restraints snapping. Ben's hand tightened on my shoulder and he started to pull me towards him. I lost all control.

I fell against him with a hunger that was so new to me, so natural and so needy. I kissed him deeply as I felt my small breasts crushed against his bare chest and then, oh then, I felt that hard cock hard against my belly, my son's balls hot against the sparse hair barely covering my pussy. His arms snaked around me, tightening his grip before he pushed as I dragged at him, my back hitting the sofa as he tumbled with me, our mouths locked, lips wildly kissing, tongues wrestling. My legs scissored wide and wrapped around his hips, and that heat, that hardness of his, pressed against my very centre. 

Ben's hips lifted away from me and my mind and body traced the movement of his cock's hot tip as it slipped lower, his shaft caressing my wide open lips before his was perfectly poised, almost demanding entrance. I spread wider still, almost demanding his entry.

All of the willingness, the desire and need, never prepared me in any way for the screamingly wild sensation I felt as my Ben's cock pressed against me, as the first few millimetres of his hard cock pushed my lips apart. I could feel every tiny movement as he inexorably parted me, as he came closer and closer to full entry. With the tiniest push of his hips, the bulge of his glorious erection passed the point of no return, sliding deeper and deeper. I bucked, the motion involuntary but necessary for me, and I felt every single fraction of his member slide deep inside me. One of us, maybe both, cried out the loudest 'yes!', and I was impaled, gloriously, on my boy's hard cock.

There was a glorious pause, no movement for several seconds as our mouths parted and our blue eyes locked and smiled and acknowledged the joy of those moments. 

"This is so bad," I whispered, "but so very good."

"Fucking good," Ben gasped.

"Oh yeah." I bucked hard and grabbed his butt, grinding my hips against my son's.

He started to move then, started to glide in and out of me, started to fuck me. Hard, eager.

I matched every thrust with a buck, every grasp and grunt with a moan and a groan, every kiss with a wide open mouth. His movements were desperate from the very start and mine were no less frantic – and yet somehow both of us held back from climax for the longest of times. Sweat rose on our limbs and bodies as we fucked and fucked so hard and so fast until we were slipping and sliding against each other. Pressures inside me soared until I felt Ben's body start to twitch spasmodically and I knew he was so very close to unleashing the contents of the balls that were slapping rhythmically against my thighs.




Rights and Wrongs Ch. 01



"Do it!" I broke our kiss long enough to demand, "Let me have it all!"

Ben's eyes widened in seeming surprise but he didn't argue for a second. Instead his pace, already frantic, increased until his belly was slapping mine loudly with every thrust. "Ma," he started to say, over and over, "Ma, I'm going to cum!"

"I know. Do it!" I bucked and thrust back at him faster, matching his fever, "I want it, I want it, I want it. I want your cum deep in me, Ben, I need it!"

He gasped so loud, his body stiffening. With a cry of "Oh, ma!" he thrust so hard and deep. And exploded deep inside me.

As his cum spurted so hard inside me, every last vestige of control left me and my belly muscles tightened and pulsed. "Fuck, oh fuck, Ben. Oh yes, yes, ygh, yow. Oh FUCK YES!"

Our bodies locked so tightly together as wave after wave of climax pulsed through me, a tsunami of feeling that wiped every thought from my mind except its own screaming pleasure. I've cum before in multiple waves, but never like that. I grasped my son tight, felt every inch of his penetration of me, his cum soaking my insides and I bucked and bucked and bucked. I howled and held him tight, yowled and swore how much I loved him. I lost all control and I loved every second in ways that I could never properly describe.

*****

Ben was still deep inside me when my senses started to return to something like normal and just that realisation sent another, far more gentle, pulse of climax through my already strained belly.

"Well," I panted after a delightful minute or so, "that was all rather unexpected."

Ben looked down at me and nodded, "Er... yeah."

"And, I might add, a very good fuck."

He snorted a laugh, "Ma!"

"What? You don't think it was?"

"Of course but... you swore!"

I shrugged, "Just being honest – that was an incredible fuck."

"Yeah, that's true. And it was love-making too."

"Fucking good love-making," I told him.

He snorted another laugh, "Yeah."

"Between you and me," I told him, "I find the language goes with the territory for me. And given that you still have your hard cock inside me – inside your mother's pussy, okay? – I feel it's appropriate. So, a very good fuck, love-making or not."

"Agreed, but you're not pushing me away," he said.

I shrugged, "Don't feel like it. You object?"

"Oh jeez, no! I love it, love being here..."

"With your cock buried in my pussy?"

He look shocked for a second, then grinned, "Yeah, with my cock buried in your..."

"Pussy? Or would you prefer me to say 'wet pussy'? I can hardly blame you for saying it. Say 'your cunt' if you want."

The shock in his eyes passed faster, "Your gorgeous wet pussy is fine, ma."

"Keep complimenting me. See where it can get you?"

"You mean if I call you gorgeous again I might get to... fuck you again?"

I stared up into his eyes. My mind was under control again, but my emotions were entirely new to me, "I don't think it will ever be as good as this time again, but... I don't think I will ever be able to deny you another try."

"Another try?"

"Another fuck," I said softly. I felt a stirring from him inside me, "And to judge by the feeling I just had, I think you might like to try again almost right away."

"One condition."

I raised an eyebrow, "Condition?"

Ben nodded, smiled, "Just the one. I want to kiss you again."

I laughed, "Here am I, legs spread, my son's cock – my son's cum – deep inside my pussy, and he wants a kiss?"

The humour faded from his features, "Yeah."

I didn't even want to resist. I reached behind his neck and pulled his head down to mine. The kiss was gentle at first, loving and meaningful. Inside me, Ben's cock stiffened quickly and I knew the power of love for what it truly was. I increased the pressure on my son's lips and allowed mine to part a little. The tips of our tongues met and as they started to entwine so his hips and mine started to move oh so gently. 

I could have stopped everything after the fuck – not before, I admit – but for all Ben's claim that we had been making love, that was not strictly, completely, true for me. I had lost control and needed, wanted the fucking. But now... now was different. This was a surrender of a totally different sort. This was me accepting my son's cock, accepting and returning his love. This was an entirely different act and for me, it was even more shocking than what had come before. Lust or not earlier, this was love pure and simple – but on a dimensional plane I hadn't even realised existed.

I kissed my son with a gentle, complete desire, even as out hips rocked softly together. I helped pace and place his thrusts with my hands on his hips, helping him also with the depth of his penetrations, guiding him to withdraw from me almost completely before letting him slide deep back inside me.

We spoke quietly, words of desire and words of love, punctuated by kisses deep and loving. At some point we exchanged positions so that I could ride my boy, carefully controlling how deep his thrusts reached; my pussy, my insides more to the point, becoming a little sore from our exertions. But that didn't stop me from rising towards another set of firework-powered climaxes, my squeals of delight bringing forth another gush of my son's cum deep inside me.

We were not even close to being sated, I guess, but we were exhausted – by the unexpectedness of both the events and the exercise. Sweat slicked every inch of our naked flesh and we slid together, entwined, into a sleep both deep and needed.

*****

I came awake slowly with just one word ringing through my mind: Wrong. 

At the very beginning I linked the word with the fact that I was coming awake on my sofa rather than my bed. It wasn't long before I realised that my body was nestled against someone else's form, quickly followed by the fact that the pair of us were completely naked. These things were all wrong – or at least, very much out of the ordinary. But then the real wrong hit me. The other naked form belonged to my son, Ben. In a fraction of a second the events of the previous night came crashing back into my sleepy mind. So very wrong in so many ways.

Unlike the countless stories I had read or hear of, my son was not rigid, displaying 'morning wood'. Instead, his penis was little more than halfway hard, but still impressively adult-looking. And to make that summary was, of course, so very wrong of me. But I looked.

I was beside him, my back to the cushions, effectively trapped between his cock and a softness from which I couldn't escape without sliding across his still-sleeping form. I couldn't help but look even while I knew it was wrong. 

Memories of the intense climaxes I had shared with my son clamoured through my clearing brain, and I almost whimpered at those memories. Wrong, but unavoidable if I were to be honest with myself. I looked down at my own nakedness, my breasts touching Ben's side, my groin pressed against his hip. It was totally wrong. But...

I was trying to work out how I might slip unnoticed from the sofa when his eyes flickered open, and I smiled. Wrong, but I smiled.

"Hey," I said, "Good morning."

He blinked a few times and turned to look at me, "Ma... not a dream?"

"I guess not. Wrong, but not a dream."

Ben seemed to come fully awake in an instant, something I hadn't witnessed since he was so much younger, "We're naked! I... we..."

"Made love. Fucked. I know."

He twisted to face me, looking down the length of our bodies before drawing me into a tight embrace. "I never said, never got a chance, I guess, but... you are so gorgeous."

"Ben... that's lovely but this is all wrong. All of it."

"We're holding each other. We're naked. We... last night..."

"I know!" But it doesn't make it not wrong." I was right, of course, but I couldn't seem to move. "If anyone ever knew..."

"Ma, no one is going to! I swear on everything, this is just you and me, just our thing."

"It was just our thing, okay? Last night."

Ben shook his head slowly and my heart leapt into my throat. "It'll never be enough for me," he said softly.

'Wrong, wrong, wrong,' my logic circuits supplied even as I allowed him to hold me tighter, even as I let my body acknowledge the inner arousal that was building rapidly. "I... Ben... I never meant things to go this far... but..."

"But?"

"But we can't turn the clocks back, can we? So..." I eased myself as far back as I could, "So why don't we just accept that things went way too far. And," I added quickly to stop my son's mouth turning down in despair any further, "why don't we just accept that we might as well find out just how much we can enjoy each other?"

He went still as his mind calculated all of the meanings behind my words. Then he moved, tentatively, closer and licked his lips. "I can kiss you again?"

"Yes."

He kissed me softly then broke away a fraction, "And touch you again?"

"Yes."

Ben's right hand cupped my left breast, squeezing so softly, "And..." he slid on top of me, his hardness now evident, "And..."

"And fuck again, yes."

He paused above me, staring down with eyes that sparkled, "Fuck and make love?"

"Yes and yes." I reached between us and grasped his rigid cock – for the first time – drawing him towards my suddenly very moist, very warm pussy. "Starting right now!"

I groaned loud and clear into the early morning light as Ben's cock touched my wetness, pushed my lips apart, pushed my labia wide and slid softly and slowly into me. "Oh, Ben, that feels so good. So fucking good!"

He nodded, grunted a laugh as he pushed fully home, "Oh this is beyond fantastic. You... your pussy... oh yes!"

"This," I told him between moans, "is so very wrong."

"I know," he managed, his rhythm settling into deep thrusts, his cock moving sweetly and freely, tight inside my gently squeezing centre, "Wrong, but so perfect."

"You're a bad, bad boy!"

"And you're a bad, bad mother. But, ma?"

"Yeah? Oh yes?"

"You're a million times as good as you are bad. And one fantastic fuck!"

I bucked my hips to meet his thrusts as his speed increased, "So fuck me good and hard, son, enjoy your bad mummy's pussy. And while you're busy fucking me, making me even more bad, why not suck on mummy's tits, huh?"

His head dropped immediately, his mouth closing over my left nipple, sucking hard, nipping gently. "Oh, Ben! Bite, pull!"

He bit harder, his cock starting to slam into me at the same time and I let myself groan and wail at the wrongness, the rightness. "Oh Ben, this is so wrong. So wrong for you to have that hard dick of yours pounding away inside me, inside your mummy's pussy, her cunt." I wailed louder as his pace increased, his mouth moving to my right breast and his hands now pawing at every inch of me he could touch, "You like the wrongness of fucking me? Like the thought that you are going to – oh fuck yes – you're going to fill my cunt with your hot cum? Unh yes! Getting faster and harder, getting more desperate to be so wrong?" I was bucking faster and faster as Ben's movements became more and more frantic, "I love your cock in me, Ben, love you fucking me so hard, love your mouth on my tits, love that you are going to fill me, love this is so wrong, love, love... oh fuck I'm losing it. Oh god, oh fuck... oh, oh, unh, oh, unh, oh, OH! You're going to make me... you're making me... oh Ben!" I wailed, yowled, "Ben! Fill me! Cum in me! Cum in mummy's cunt!"

I let out a scream of delight as I felt the first gush deep inside me. I yelled as loud as I could, screaming Ben's name as my own orgasm ripped through me, my hips rising more than a foot from the sofa as my belly tightened in a series of pulsating spasms, my arms holding my son deep inside me.

My mind shorted out as my ears started to ring and my sight was criss-crossed with a million starry stripes of ecstasy.

I remember collapsing back onto the sofa's cushions, remember a word or two coming from my son – 'fucking beautiful', 'so cute', 'tight pussy', 'always'. I gasped and panted, held him so tight, knew that it was all so wrong and yet all so perfect.

And then he started again – minutes later maybe, but it seemed like it was without a break. And I loved it. His cock started to rock backwards and forwards inside me, and then we kissed. 

And kissed.

And fucked, made love. 

Wrong, huh?

*****

Breakfast that Sunday was a slice of toast and a coffee. And a long talk.

There were many mentions of the word 'wrong', many promises of no one else ever learning of that wrongness, the occasional 'complaint' that I still had someone's cum leaking down my thighs, and many promises that life would be a lot different now.

Oh, and a very gentle session of love-making – I was too sore by then to fuck – somewhere between the second and third mugs of coffee.

I learned that Ben was a lot more like his father than even I had realised. I learned that he got highly aroused by the thought of his partner taking chances with their dress when others – strangers –might see them. And that he wasn't just enjoying a passing – but wild – fantasy or fling. My boy meant this.

I learned to realise that Ben would only be at home another three months before he needed to go off to his university – and that three months could be a very long, wonderful time if I allowed myself to relax into things. I think I believed I could last the course.

*****

It's five months later now and Ben is at university. Me? I lasted the course. Wrong or no wrong. And I have a burning desire to tell you all about it. I'd better get writing, hadn't I?



Rights and Wrongs Ch. 02



It's been a long five months since I overcame the feeling of 'wrong' and made a very 'right' choice with my son, Ben. I might have aged a year in that time – I'm thirty-nine now – but I feel ten years younger. Twenty years or so at times.

There's no doubts in my mind now that Ben has a lot of his father's genes in him. Or at least, those ones his father displayed when he and I were much younger. Ben's a lover of excitement – not to mention an exciting lover – and I've been happy, overjoyed, to play along. It started almost as soon as we got it together, Ben and I, and wonderfully, gloriously took me by surprise.

That first weekend was a shock to my system. I mean to say, what mother wouldn't be shocked to find herself fucking her son and – despite the internal debates about rights and wrongs – enjoying every second more than she could ever remember enjoying herself? By the time Ben went off, reluctantly, to his part-time summer job on the Monday morning I was almost delirious with delight, not to mention sore.

I paced the house – well, limped around – doing my best to tell myself that it was all so very wrong. It was taboo, it was – let's be honest here – incest, it was... just so very, very good. All I could think about that Monday was how naughty, how bad, how wonderful it all had been. It wasn't just the sex, which had been surprisingly good in every sense, but we had kissed like lovers do, lips and tongues locked in a passion that was deliberate and meaningful. We had changed, in seemingly no time at all, from a normal mother and son to a very sexual partnership – still mother and son, but now lovers.

The 'right' was outweighing the 'wrong' by a hundred-fold.

Then, of course, I started to doubt Ben and what my son would be thinking. Perhaps he had just got all he wanted. Perhaps he was just a MILF hunter and I would be just another trophy. Perhaps it would be all too much for him, all too 'wrong'.

I looked down at myself. I'd dressed in a rather short summery skirt with just a lightweight cotton blouse, both pale blue. The blouse was loose and buttoned to just below my small breasts, a deep V of cleavage displaying more flesh than I would normally offer to the world. Was it too much? Did I look desperate even? Was it all too– 

The front door slammed shut and my mind did the same.

Until Ben burst into the kitchen where I had been sipping coffee.

"Ma?"

I could see in an instant that Ben had been carrying as many doubts as me – and that he wanted the weekend to be all true, and that it had a future.

"Hey, Ben. Am I glad to see you!" My motherly instincts were busy scrapping with the sluttier ones, and I had no idea what my greeting really meant.

When Ben glanced at my loosely buttoned blouse and his face split into an eager grin before he answered me, I knew Ms Slutty had won the day. And boy was I happy.

"So, ma, it wasn't all a dream?"

"No," I said, wanting nothing more than his lust, "We spent a very naughty time together and made each other cum beautifully."

"You got that right. God, I'm so relieved! I was thinking–" 

"All sorts. Yeah I know the feeling."

Ben closed the gap between us and put a hand on each of my shoulders, "You're really okay about it all?"

I nodded, "More than."

His hands dropped and covered my breasts, "I guess this is okay then?"

My heart-rate rose alarmingly, "Well, I didn't stop you, did I?"

He gave the gentlest of squeezes, "No, ma."

"Not too small for you?"

The next squeeze was a little firmer, "Perfect."

"They've missed you." I paused, "So have I."

"Oh, jeez, ma, you have no idea how much I wanted to hear that. Can I kiss you again?"

I leaned up and planted the gentlest of kisses on my son's lips.

His smile broadened to the point where I was slightly worried his ears might fall off, "Oh, ma. Can I... can I see your tits again?"

My hands trembled as I undid the couple of buttons of my blouse. I shrugged it off as Ben lifted his hands out of the way before returning them to my now-naked breasts. 

"Ma, can I... can we..."

"Fuck again?" I asked, scarcely believing myself.

Ben nodded. "Yes."

The trembles were worse as I unzipped the skirt. It fell to the floor revealing that I was naked beneath it. My son's eyes widened as I stood before him. It was an offer to my boy and I knew that he wanted me then, really knew it. There was the longest pause as he looked down at my naked body, his hands moving back so that everything was on show.

I was shivering with anticipation, with a nervous tension that only now made itself felt. I cleared my throat. "Well?"

It broke the spell that had been cast over Ben and his hands flew to his jeans, buttons popping before he yanked the t-shirt he was wearing over his head. Within a couple of seconds he was as naked as I was and I more or less fell into his arms, our bare flesh meeting and our ardours rising to the ceiling and beyond.

Our lips met, an awkward clash that felt sublime. The heat of Ben's cock, rigid against my bare belly, felt as if it could sear my eager flesh, and it was all I wanted at that moment. I pulled down on my boy's shoulders and felt him lit me from my feet. My legs opened wide and I hooked them around his hips, suddenly free from the floor and gravity. I lifted my belly further, guided by his rigid heat, and offered no resistance at all as my womanhood, my very centre, eased along his length until the tip – the tip of my son's hard cock – was positioned between my eager, flowering labia.

Ben's grip shifted, easing me lower and despite expecting – wanting – everything, I was still delightedly shocked as my son started to penetrate me. He eased that hot cock gently into my very heart, parting my eager lips, the head finally slipping fully inside me and its oh-so warm shaft following until he was fully and properly buried inside me.

I started to rock then, easing myself higher then lower on that gorgeous shaft, and our kiss became deeper, hungrier. A deeper, ravenous appetite overtook me then and I started pistoning up and down, eager, desperate and shockingly so much closer to a climax that I had been wanting without even realising it.

My son's hips were now rocking in rhythm with mine and he broke the kiss for a few moments to stare down, first at my bare breasts and then further to where I was buried deep on his cock. "Oh, ma... mum... I love this. Love you!"

"And Ben, I love you. Love you fucking me, fucking your mum."

"Oh jeez, oh mum! I hope you love me cumming inside you as well because that's gonna happen real soon!"

I laughed, "Love it! Want it!" We began rocking faster, "As long as you don't mind my juices all over your gorgeous cock!"

Ben groaned and pulled me tighter, our teeth clashing before the kiss resumed. 

Faster movements became slippery as we began to sweat, but each and every thrust of hips was perfection. I could feel the climax building inside me and simply rode the wave, the thrill building ever higher as we kissed and squirmed together, our movements become jerkier, until Ben thrust harder than ever.

"Oh mum!"

The first wave of my own climax hit me then, "Ben! I'm.. ungh... ahhh! I'm cumming!"

Ben wailed in delight and I felt his cum spraying, surging inside me. "Oh mum!"

"Ben! Oh, Ben yes! Oh BEN!"

Wave after wave of delight coursed through me and I wailed and moaned, matching every groan and moan that squeezed from my son's lips. Still we pumped together, grinding our groins more tightly than I imagined possible, oblivious to every sensation but that of my son's gorgeous cock. A final spasm almost wrenched me from his arms but he grabbed me even tighter and I trembled and shook, impaled gloriously on his hard cock.

The 'right' was now outweighing the 'wrong' by a thousand-fold.

*****

I was still impaled when I got my senses back in some sort of order, still in the same position save for the fact that my butt cheeks were perched on one of the kitchen counters. I was breathing as if I'd just run a couple of marathons and Ben, young and fit, was little better.

"Whatever happened to 'hi, ma, what's for supper?'?"

"I think I prefer this sort of supper," my son gasped.

"We'll try it for a few days and see if you still prefer it, if you like?"

Ben nodded, "I feel sure I will. Jeez, ma, you're loud though!"

"Hurt your eardrums did I? I haven't been that loud for as long as I can remember."

"I liked it," Ben told me, "Made me feel I wasn't the only one enjoying things."

"You got that right."

"Mind you," Ben nodded over my shoulder, "You might get complaints from other quarters."

I looked over my slippery shoulder and saw the kitchen window was open, "Oops." As we stared, the curtain flapped back in the gentle breeze, leaving no barrier between us and the golf course at the bottom of the garden. "Oops again. Sorry."

Ben shrugged, "It's rather nice."

"I take it," I said, facing my boy, "that you're not referring to the view?"

He shrugged again, "Is that so bad?"

I smiled, my mind whirling back for a moment to the daring games I used to play with his father, "Anyone could have been walking past, you know?"

"Risky, huh?"

"And you really don't mind?"

My son shrugged yet again, but inside me I could feel his cock hardening again – to both my surprise and delight, "I don't if you don't."

"You know," I said slowly, starting to rock my hips very gently, "back in the day I used to love a bit of danger."

Ben's cock became fully hard in an instant, "I never tried anything like it before but now you mention it I get the impression that I rather like the danger."

"Of being seen fucking your own mother?"

"Just fucking a gorgeous woman. No one playing golf would ever know who you were to me," Ben started to meet my thrusts with gentle ones of his own, "but now you mention it, perhaps that would be fun as well."

We were fucking again, already, and Ben's words brought a new urgency to my actions. I'd never thought of that sort of danger before, ever, but now he'd said it aloud... "We have to keep what we do a secret, right?"

"Yeah of course, but maybe a little risk occasionally. Where we're not really known...?"

"Naughty," I managed.

Ben adjusted me on his hips, his thrusts suddenly harder, "You like the idea, don't you?"

"Could be," I managed, "but you can see the thing about strangers who don't know us, can't you?" I motioned back at the window.

"I can sure feel that, ma."

"And you love it, right?" Our movements were already rapid, juices squelching from me.

By way of answer, Ben shuffled us both sideways until he could reach the curtain. "I could pull this right off the rail."

"You waiting to see if I will tell you not to?"

"I'm polite like that."

"Makes a change," I said.

"You haven't stopped me yet."

"True," I nodded. No one had come close to seeing me like this for almost two decades and the thought was having a totally shocking effect on me. I was already in shock about Ben and me, but if Ben was this daring as well...

"You know I love you, ma?"

"And that we're fucking, yes."

"Well I don't care who knows how beautiful you are!" 

I heard curtain rings hitting the counter and felt a cool breeze wash over my naked body, "You're a bad boy, aren't you?"

"A lucky one!"

"True. And I have a feeling we can have a great deal of fun. Would you like that?" The slutty part of me was winning hands-down now.

"I think I'm going to love it. And ma? I can see a couple of old golfers coming vaguely this way."

My pace quickened, "They won't be the only ones cumming."

"Don't move then?"

"Just faster," I gasped, the first moan leaving my throat.

Ben's thrusts become faster as requested as I wriggled us round sideways so I could see if anyone really was approaching, my moan turning to a wail as I spotted the two elderly golfers cresting a small rise behind the house. When one of them looked straight across at the house, his jaw dropping open even as he nudged his playing partner, the wail grew to a full on yowl.

Ben had seen the two old men as clearly as I had and his movements became as frantic as my howling. "Oh, fucking hell, mum!"

"Cum for me then, Ben, fill me!" I managed between gasps and howls.

As his seed flooded into me an orgasm of such unexpected power surged through me and I properly howled, "Oh fuck yes! All that cum in my cunt! I love it, love you, Ben!"

"Oh yes, mu–" 

As wild as the waves of climax were, I managed to clamp my mouth over his, stopping him from saying the fateful word when the old guys were close enough now to hear. I managed to mutter 'later' into his mouth as we shuddered deep in the throes of our second, bone-deep moments of ecstasy.

Such was the power of that orgasm that I thrust back at my son so hard that he slipped out of me, and in turn I slipped off of his hips, sliding down his legs to sprawl on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor. Seconds later, Ben more or less collapsed beside me, gasping but snorting laughter.

"Oh, ma, oh fuck! Oh wow."

Giggles erupted from me, "Wow, wow. I have the strongest feeling that we're going to have a whole lot of fun together." My breathing was returning to normal even if my heart-rate was still up in the stratosphere, "You are a gloriously naughty boy, you know that?"

Ben was on his knees to my side, "I sure hope so. Is that a promise about the fun?"

"It is," I managed, "Now pass me my blouse so I can get up."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes! Those two guys will still be out there and me being caught in the act is way different from me parading around topless here."

Ben thought for a few seconds, before finally nodding, "I see what you mean."

As he passed me the garment I nodded to myself, he was going to be more than a naughty, 'wrong' act for me. Ben was going to enjoy such a 'right' time...

*****

As the week progressed I came to realise that my beloved son had never played those sort of daring games before. We didn't play again ourselves, but it became a topic of conversation before, during and after a multitude of acts. Okay, fucks.

It was a busy week, fuck-wise. My 'rights' and 'wrongs' internal debates were lasting less and less time and while I came to accept that things were not normal, they certainly didn't count as 'wrongs' in my book. And Ben was proving to be a technically very good lover. Or rather, a very good lover, technically.

By the next weekend I was happily exhausted and content in the almost certain knowledge that I now had a lover, sex-partner, with whom I was going to have a great deal of fun. I also had the snatch from Hell and could barely walk. It didn't stop a permanent smile, though.

That smile was in full force on the Saturday afternoon following a relatively (no pun intended) gentle bout of sex in the confines of the living room.

"Still having fun?" I was slightly nervous that this would all be a very quick passing fancy, even though I knew our time together was going to be limited. Three months would be a lot different to a week or so.

"Ma, I feel like I'm in a dream. A perfect dream."

"You certainly feel like a dream to me. Oh, hang on. Pass the bucket, that was vomit-inducing."

"I don't care. I want more."

"You always were a greedy kid," I laughed, "but bits of me need a rest just now. Nothing to do with age, I hasten to add, just the fact that a certain sensitive part of me is unused to all this exercise."

Ben stretched beside me on the sofa, "I didn't mean right now. I've got my own sensitive part even if it's happily sore. I was talking about the daring stuff, the games."

"Oh?" I didn't dare say anything else in case my voice wobbled too much.

"I know you get super-hot when we talk about doing daring stuff but did you really mean it all?"

"How could you ever doubt your own mother?"

Ben was normally quiet, verging on shy, but now I could see a new intensity to him. He was hesitant but, I could tell, determined. I adored Ben as my son, but now I found myself falling in love with the young man, my lover. "Ma... would it be possible, do you think, if we could maybe... if it'd be alright with you, of course... could we maybe go away for a weekend? Somewhere no one would know anything about us, I mean? If you know what I mean?"

"In no particular order," I said, not letting myself think beyond my wants and needs, "Yes, yes and yes. A long weekend, if you like?"

Ben had clearly been expecting at least one 'no' and had geared himself up for a three-fold refusal, so the look of surprise on his face was a joy to me. His words even more so, "That's a 'yes' then?"

I laughed, happy to be the senior partner in this new alliance, "It's very much a 'yes'," I assured him, "I think it would do us both good to let off some steam. Even more steam. Leave it all to me and I'll book us a nice room somewhere a hundred miles away, by the sea."

"That'd be great, ma. I can afford to... did you just say 'a' room? You mean one each, of course?"

"Money or not, I don't think we'll need more than one, do you?"

"Oh, ma! No. No I don't!"

*****

The week passed in something of a blur, my sore part given a timely rest by the arrival of a normally most unwelcome monthly visitor. To make the usually despised pains even better, it meant that I was both clear by the time the weekend arrived and at my horniest, a mood that always struck in the two or three days after each period. Like I needed the boost!

I met Ben at the local railway station after his Friday at work was finished, with two lightweight bags, our weekend changes of clothes safely stashed away. The train was packed with commuters heading home, and the crowd barely thinned even as we approached the resort that was to be our temporary home for the next four nights. Back near our own station we were the souls of discretion, a mother and son heading off to the coast for the weekend, probably to visit an ageing relative or similar, but the closer we got to the coastline, the harder it was to keep up that pretence. Sly winks became ever slyer pats on the thigh and during a momentary darkness as we clanked across points in a tunnel I felt Ben's hand brush across the front of my blouse. Hopefully the ensuing sudden glare of light hid my blush...

The mercifully short taxi ride from the train station to the small hotel I had booked for us was almost wordless for Ben and I, and I scribbled our details into the check-in book at the establishment's front desk before we took the corridor to our room at a near-run. The room's door was fitted with an electronic card lock which was just as well since I don't think either of us could have managed a proper key, and clothes were being pulled off before the door even closed properly. 

What can I say about the next few minutes other than 'we fucked'. It was breathless, animal passion. We were loud and free, somehow even freer with all those people just a wall or two away from us than we had been in the more-or-less privacy of our own house, and boy did it set the mood for the nights and days to follow.

Don't get me too wrong here. I still understood, deep down, that this was all very wrong as far as many people would be concerned, but I knew better than to argue against how I was feeling deep down inside. I didn't know what the weekend would bring, never really had much of a clue. And for once in my life, I simply didn't care.

That first night of our first weekend away, we lay together after the first sex session, naked on the double bed. We stayed that way for maybe half an hour before I finally managed to rouse myself and I eased myself from the bed, telling Ben to wait where he was for a few moments.

I took the larger of the two bags and slipped into the small en suite bathroom where I unzipped the holdall and drew out a specially purchased dress. With a smile at my reflection in the room's mirror, I towelled myself dry from the sweat of sex and pulled the black garment down over my head. A few minor tweaks and I was happy enough with the look of things. I stepped back into the room.




Rights and Wrongs Ch. 02



"Well, how about this as something to wear when we go out for a drink and bite tonight?"

You often hear the term 'double-take' but I think that Ben's reaction to my little black number was the most effective I'd ever seen. And the 'oh, wow!' that followed was a joy to my ears.

The dress was short in the skirt department and its strappy top was designed to let the top hang low enough in the chest area to ensure that the inner sides of my breasts were just about visible. Deeply cut arm holes ensured the outer sides could be seen as well should my arms allow it. As Ben sat up – in every sense – I gave a quick twirl, the skirt flaring to within an inch or two of exposing more of me than anyone but Ben had seen for many a long month.

I laughed in the face of the reaction from my son which was bringing such joy. "I take it that you approve?"

"It's... wow."

"Not a little too revealing?"

"No! I mean, I was just hoping that maybe we could be seen out together, maybe even... kissing, if you don't mind too much, but that... wow!"

"I could take it off and wear something–"

Ben stood up and put out a hand to stop me pushing one of the shoulder straps down my arm, "No, ma! Please? It's perfect!"

I laughed, stepping backwards, "Okay, I'll leave it on. One condition though."

My son's relieved face smiled broadly, "What?"

"This dress is black in case you hadn't noticed, so keep that messy – but gorgeous – cock away from it! It's almost eight o'clock so go get cleaned up and we can hit a bar, if you want?"

Ben almost ran to the bathroom and I sat myself in front of the room's long desk, switching on its strip light. 

I reached into my holdall and rooted around until I found my make-up bag. My hairbrush was first out and I spent a couple of minutes teasing the pillow-tangles out of my tresses before finding my eye-liner and carefully applying some darkness to the edges of my eyelids. I knew from a wealth of past experience that I could make myself look like no older than thirty – if the lights were pretty low wherever we went – and knew that my son already looked somewhere in his mid-twenties. It wasn't that I didn't mind being seen together with a much younger guy, but (I told myself) I wanted it more than apparent that I couldn't be more than a handful of years older than him let alone a whole generation older...

None of which stopped me thinking that I was about to be seen out – and kissing – my very own son. A little shudder ran delightfully down my spine.

I took another look down at myself, at the little dress, and another shudder followed the first. I hadn't worn anything so potentially revealing for almost twenty years and the thought of strangers' eyes looking at me dressed like it was scary but exciting. And if – when – Ben found it exciting as well, just how aroused would that make me? I leant forward and had to stifle a gasp as my nipples could just be seen – actually seen – within the tiny confines of the tiny garment. Would anyone else see them? Would a stranger peer down at me and become aroused at the view? Did I really, genuinely hope so? Well...

"Ma?"

Ben had come back into the room wearing a smart, dark outfit that I guessed he must have bought especially for our trip. Very tight, very mature and very sexy.

"Ready if you are," I said.

"I am," he insisted, "As long as you're okay being seen out with me?"

"Can't wait. As long as I'm not too risqué for you?"

"I'll do my best not to make sure you reveal too much," he assured me in a tone that made me think he wasn't convincing himself, let alone me.

A third shudder threatened to slip the shoulder straps down my arms before we'd even left the confines of the hotel room, "I'll do my best to make sure you don't," I laughed, less than convinced. I picked up my tiny clutch bag and offered him my arm, "Shall we?"

He took my arm and turned us toward the door, "I had meant to kiss you before we left," he told me, "but I think that might lead to us not leaving for half an hour or so."

"I think, all in all, we'd better leave before I lose my nerve!"

*****

All of the fantasies I had secretly harboured for so long, all of the self-teasing both Ben and I had discussed in bed (or on the sofa), all of the silly, fun, daring games I had played indoors, they were all nothing compared to the reality of stepping out of the little hotel next to my son, dressed in such a skimpy outfit. I felt almost naked – fairly naturally – and the gentle breeze that washed in off the sea and across my legs and almost bare breasts just emphasised that fact. When coupled with the beautiful body at my side, I admit that I felt very moist just walking down the street. That sensation trebled when we arrived at the first night club and Ben drew us to a halt with a questioning look at the entrance.

"If you're sure?" I managed.

He nodded, obviously not able to bring himself to speak.

There was a long pause before I managed to take the first step, and after that it became very much easier. Mainly because Ben almost charged inside, dragging me behind him.

Inside it was rather dark, a relief to me, and I was able to stand back from the bar as Ben ordered two large glasses of wine. Even a few feet back from the bar counter I still received an interested look from the barman, enough to raise my blood pressure, and more than enough to make me feel just as underdressed as I really was.

Ben turned to face me and nodded as a table towards the edge of the dreary room and I happily led the way, suddenly grateful to be out of the spotlight. 

We took our seats and I managed to smile broadly, no matter how nervous felt. "Well," I said, "here we are, out in the big wide world."

He took a gulp of wine, "Yeah, me with the most gorgeous woman around."

I surveyed the rather quiet room, "Not much competition."

Ben looked terribly flushed, "But can I... can we kiss now?"

My heart skipped a beat, and regardless of the fact that we were unknown to everyone present – all ten of them – I felt so very exposed in the oddest way, "Well... I guess that was one of the reasons we came all the way out here..."

Ben rose and scooted his stool close up next to mine, sat back down and put an arm around my shoulders. "Oh, ma," he whispered, his face moving close to mine.

"Make 'ma' short for Marie, okay? It might not be my name but it might save embarrassment." I was prevaricating.

And then he kissed me.

He was – we were – tentative at first, our lips barely touching. We both cast furtive glances around us and only the barman, smiling now, had seen the contact. I imagined he thought we were illicit lovers, alone at the beach at last. If only he knew, I thought. This is illicit. I leaned into my son and kissed him deeply.

Ben seemed reluctant, almost – for maybe two seconds. Then he returned the pressure. The kiss lingered, deeper then. And I parted my lips a little, an invitation. 

The offer seemed to galvanise my son and he pressed back hard against me, his tongue probing into my mouth, his arm tightening on my shoulders. There was reluctance, almost, for a few seconds and then... oh and then we kissed properly, eagerly, in front of a very few people, but in the open nonetheless. 

I raised my hands to Ben's cheeks and pulled him even tighter to my own face. And kissed and kissed and kissed. His hands dropped to my sides and he pulled me close, and I welcomed his touches, draping my hands over his shoulders, aware that my dress gaped under my arms but happy to show the world that I adored my lover. 

The kiss lasted for ten seconds or maybe an hour. I neither knew nor cared. My nipples were rigid then against the flimsy material of the dress and when Ben's hands slid down my sides, his bare thumbs sliding down the sides of my equally bare breasts I just kissed deeper.

We parted, finally, my breathing fast and shallow and I let out a strangled laugh, "Hey, careful you or I'll make a real mess of this seat!"

"You think you have troubles," he was panting back at me, "I'm not far off making a real mess inside my new clothes."

"Good!"

"Ma... Marie... You are so fucking sexy, so gorgeous!"

"You make me feel it, too. Dare we dance here?"

Ben stared into my eyes then glanced around the bar which was gradually filling, "I want everyone to see how lucky I am, okay?"

"Not let them see too much, I hope?"

"No, just how gorgeous you look in that dress."

There's no way I would have dared get up and dance for anyone else, but right then, so quickly, Ben was making me feel wild. "Let's do it then."

Just like entering the place, Ben almost dragged me, running, to the dance floor. The music was Club on Prozac, smooth and slow, and I started to gyrate in front of my boy the second I had my balance back. I stretched and twirled slowly, desperately aware of the amount of flesh that I was displaying – always just shy of showing off too much, but always showing a lot. Ben was entranced, moving slowly and easily in front of me, the occasional hand touching my shoulder. 

I had imagined I would need a good few drinks inside me before I even hit the dance floor, but I was intoxicated by kissing Ben in front of all these people, and now I was equally drunk with my own sexuality. I bent forward once or twice, oh-so deliberately showing off for him and loving his gasps, inaudible to all but me. And then the music changed down a gear to something really slow.

Ben opened his arms and I stepped close. In the middle of a dance floor so many miles from home, I let my son tilt my head back and his lips met mine, just as his body closed tightly against mine. He was hard and pressed hungrily against me, his hands somehow pulling me tight before slipping lower and making me squeal softly into his mouth as he cupped my butt cheeks, there in front of everyone.

I squirmed against him, grinding my hips against his even as our lips mashed together. Ben's shirt had opened at the front and his chest was bare against the cleft of flesh that my dress presented to him. I slid from side to side, the dress parting against his chest until I felt my right nipple bare against his equally bare flesh. No one could see, but I certainly felt it oh-so beautifully, and the kiss deepened yet further.

The music stopped for a moment before returning to a more vibrant, fast beat. Ben and I paused and I was overwhelmed. 

"Step back a moment." I didn't let myself think and he obeyed, leaving me half exposed. I made a show of straightening my dress, covering my bared breast slowly, before kissing Ben lightly and heading, trembling, back to our stools and drinks, busily ignoring four or five eager looks along the way,

Ben caught up with me just before I could re-seat myself and kissed the nape of my neck, "I'm in heaven," he managed.

"Well," I managed, "I did say that we would have fun."

Ben grabbed both our glasses and dashed to the bar, evidently unable to say anything to me, but returning in double-quick time with a nervous, "There you go!"

"Did I really do that?" I laughed.

"Oh yeah. Fun for sure."

"You still think so?"

"Ma... Marie... I wasn't joking when we were in bed," he made no effort to lower his voice, "but I'm glad it's your turn with the washing. I wasn't joking about that, either, things are getting messy in my pants."

I laughed a lot, "Naughty... but I love it. And it's the first night..."

*****

We stayed at the club for another hour during which time I drew many a look as I bent to retrieve 'accidentally' dropped items and twirled a couple more times on the dance floor – until the pressure between Ben and I rose to a level where we couldn't keep our hands off each other without the danger of stripping off right there and then. When it reached that level we just had to dash back to the hotel and relieve the tensions, or 'fuck each other silly' to be more accurate. No one even banged on the wall in complaint when I gave vent to my joys with the sort of wails and moans that are normally only heard in the wild.

Exhausted, Ben and I fell asleep long before midnight, naked, sweaty and sated. For the time being, anyway.

*****

I woke before my son and was standing at the window, bathed in the morning sunshine, naked and in love all over again. I heard Ben stirring behind me after a few minutes, then felt the glory of his heat and hardness press up against my behind shortly afterwards, his hands encircling me, sliding over my belly and breasts. We were on the ground floor, the room overlooking a small patch of garden and another hotel at the rear of the building.

"Ben," I said, "If anyone is looking out of their window they might see us."

"I know."

"If anyone walks past they might see as well."

"I know."

"Ben, your hands are caressing my tits and making me very wet."

"I was hoping so." My son bent his knees and allowed his hard cock to slip between my thighs.

"Son, if you try to push that thing – that gorgeous thing – inside me, I am not sure I could bear to stop you. But we might be seen. Fucking."

"I know that too."

"It's a hell of a risk."

"I love you, ma."

A flare of genuine fear flashed through me as I realised I somehow didn't have a choice any more – already – because I wanted that feeling more than I could possibly describe. I think I tried to move away from that oh-so exposed position, but the very first inch brought my hot, wet centre into direct contact with my son's hardness. 

"You're going to fuck me right here, aren't you Ben?"

He pushed at me and my lips began to part for his rigid member, "You have no idea how much I want to, mum."

"Ben," I managed, not moving away any more, "I'm naked, nude, right here in front of the window."

"I don't care if the world sees how beautiful you are." He pushed his hips forwards and entered me fully. "Feels like you don't mind too much."

"Just because," I panted, "I let your hard, gorgeous, fucking perfect cock press right inside my hot, wet cunt, doesn't necessarily mean I want my son to fuck me hard here in front of the world."

"Sure?" Ben grunted, ramming himself home.

"Ungh. Oh fuck. Maybe I'm not one hundred percent against the idea." I pushed back, hard, relishing the sensation of every little inch of my boy's cock spreading me wide, filling me, "But if you're going to make me act the slut, then you'd better make me cum so fucking hard, got it?" I could scarcely believe what I was doing. I felt so exposed and yet so very, very aroused.

My son started pressing his hips hard against me, his flat belly slapping against my raised butt, "I want to make you cum hard, ma, and I don't care about anyone else, never will."

For all that I was hyper to the max, acting wildly outside my norms, there was something in his words that jarred. Not that they stopped me grinding back against him, stretching so that my nakedness was displayed to the fullest extent. If there was anyone watching from behind a curtain in the building across the way, then they were going to see a cute, slender woman getting royally fucked – and loving every second of her exposure and her pleasure. "Faster," I hissed.

Ben responded immediately, slamming himself deep into me, grunting like a tennis master with every thrust, "Oh, ma, I love it, love your..."

"Love your cock in my wet cunt?"

"Yes! Oh mum, I adore your... your cunt!"

"Ungh, oh yes, say it again!"

"Your cunt, ma, your cunt. I love my cock in your wet cunt!"

Even as I grunted in joy, a young couple appeared, walking past arm-in-arm, no more than ten yards in front of us. They didn't so much as glance in our direction but I spread my arms, exposed as much of myself as I could even as I grunted louder, "And I love it too. Need it. Oh fuck yes. Need this so much!"

"Oh fuck, ma, I'm gonna cum!"

"Fill me then, fill me! Tell me!"

"Any second, ma, any second I'm gonna explode in you, in your cunt, ma. I'm gonna... oh fuck here it comes!"

It overwhelmed me. The couple had passed by then, but I didn't care. I lost all control as my son's seed splurged inside me. I let myself go to the cavalcade of extreme sensations and probably screamed my release – a release that was so sudden, so needed. Words failed me and I was grateful, even as we sank to the floor.

*****

You know it wasn't the first time for us, but in some ways it had felt like it for me. We were unusually quiet over breakfast, and I was unusually thoughtful, troubled. To my immense relief – which in itself surprised me a little – Ben seemed to pick up on my sudden silence and although he made one or two attempts to get me talking, he soon came to understand that I wanted some time alone. With a fairly cursory comment or two he suggested that he had some shopping he wanted to do – some 'boys' stuff' that he knew was available in one of the little specialist shops in the town – and arranged to meet me at lunchtime in a bar close to the hotel.

When he'd gone I took myself off to a local park and, sadly enough, found a deserted bench in an equally deserted stretch of the more wooded area the park offered. I sat down and stared at nothing, letting a myriad of thoughts assail me. I'm not normally one to go over things in minute detail but that morning I felt a deep need to 'search my soul', 'navel gaze', or some equally moronic concept. 

What on earth was I doing? 

That pretty much summed up my thoughts and, to be brutally honest, my fears. Sure, I'd read the website entries, visited chat rooms 'specialising' in my new-found kink, I'd even come to terms with the fact of what, exactly, I was getting involved in – but none of those avenues really gave me any answer as to what on earth I was doing. I'd let my own son... 'let' was the wrong word, but it had to do for now – I'd let my Ben see me, touch me, fuck me. It was – no matter how I tried to hide from the fact – incest. He was my son, I was his mother. Maybe a lot of mothers got a little naughty pleasure from an apparently 'accidental' exposure or an improperly close hug, but this? I'd let Ben have access to me, to my very centre, to everything . I had welcomed my son's hard cock into my wet pussy. Just the thought of it parting my hot, wet labia hardened my nipples under my light top, aroused me to the point where my juices started to ooze from me, made me feel reckless enough to allow our coupling when we might even be seen, let me...

"Fuck!"

I cast a quick look around, thankful that no one had heard my sudden outburst. And equally thankful that no one could see the blush that coloured my cheeks.

So what if it was all so wrong? Sure, the taboo element added something – but was it really that much more? I adored the way Ben and I fucked, had all sorts of fun! So what if some people thought it was disgusting? I hadn't felt this wild and hot for as long as I could remember and I loved every second of it!

I stood quickly, undid the top two buttons of my blouse until it hung loose between my breasts, pulled the bottom of the top almost out of my skirt so that it billowed in the gentle breeze, and then strode out of the trees and into the centre of the seaside town, ready to meet my son, my lover.

*****

"Hey, you," I slid onto the barstool next to Ben.

"Ma... Marie!"

I smiled at my son's apparent surprise, "You didn't expect me to turn up?"

He waved the barman over and ordered me a large vodka and cranberry, stalling his reply for a few seconds so he could gather himself. "I did kind of wonder whether you... had changed your mind or something."

"Not a bit of it," I assured him, "I just needed to make sure I was sure, that's all."

"And I guess this means you are."

I pointedly looked down at my gaping blouse, "What do you think the answer is?"

Ben followed the direction of my gaze and let out a strangled laugh, "I guess that's a yes. And 'wow'."




Rights and Wrongs Ch. 02



"Thanks, I think. You approve?"

"Does my drooling mouth give it away?"

I leaned forward and whispered, "It does, and I rather like the slobbery look. That St Bernard dog we used to have was always my favourite."

Ben glanced around and then turned back to me with a slight flush and a very broad grin, "It's hard not to slobber when you look so hot. Especially with a very appreciative audience in the background. It makes me so... proud to be seen with you, if you don't mind me saying."

"I'm hardly likely to object, but thanks anyway. It's great to feel so daring and so happy to be with a great looking young guy on my arm. You really like the daring look? Not too slutty for you?"

"Ma... rie, I got to admit that I've always had a kinda love of that sort of thing, but with you it's like a hundred times hotter . And that's nothing to do with us being... you know?"

"I know," I assured him, "And believe me, it's great to hear." 

And it truly was. When I'd been Ben's age and into my early twenties I has used to love being daring with my dress, and in the short time my son and I had released the hidden passions within ourselves, those feelings of something close to a need to be daring once more had come flooding back. To hear Ben admit that he had a 'thing' for that sort of behaviour sent a glorious chill down my spine and set a gorgeous little fire burning deep in my belly. "Just as long as it's all for just you and me, I might even surprise you with how daring I could be."

Ben's eyes widened as his smile broadened, "Well you know I love surprises..."

"You really like this sort of surprise?" I had to be sure.

"Yeah, honest, Ma... rie. It's one of those things that I kinda think about when... you know?"

I loved the way my son was opening up, "When you play alone, you mean?"

To his credit, Ben's blush was not too bright, "Well... yeah. But it's only ever been a fantasy thing, really. Until you and me, that is."

"You and me, I like it. You have any particular fantasies you might like to play out?" I paused, "And incidentally, were any of them ever about me?"

Ben's blush deepened by way of an answer, "A couple, I guess," he mumbled.

"I don't mind," I assured him – and I really didn't to judge by the way my pulse-rate quickened even further – "So how about sharing a couple. Maybe I can help turn fantasy into reality while we're away here or even when we get back home."

He gulped a large mouthful of his drink, evidently understanding that I was presenting him with an opportunity to share even more with me than he already had, "Well... you sure you won't be mad?"

"I might draw the line at fellating donkeys."

Ben nearly sprayed his drink over me but my shrugged comment seemed to be enough to get him capable of the sharing that I believe we both wanted. "Well," he said slowly, "I do sorta like it when guys look at you approvingly – have done for a couple of years or more, I guess – and I kinda fantasise about you maybe seemingly 'accidentally' showing more than maybe it's like normal to show."

"Blouse buttons popping open without me seeming to notice and that kind of thing?"

"Yeah! Exactly!" He glanced down at my loose blouse, "Maybe just like you are now, you know? I mean, if you leant forward in that top then... well, wow."

I knew I occasionally wore fairly loose tops and short skirts at home but I had never realised just how I must have been entertaining my boy's fantasies. My pulse-rate seemed to be rising with every word he said. Then I had another thought. "Just who might get to see the results in your fantasies?"

Ben averted his eyes from mine, "Um... well..."

"Tell me. I won't be mad about a fantasy."

"Well, it's kinda only happened when we've been at home and someone like Tim was around, I guess."

"Your friend?"

Ben covered his affirmation with another deep gulp from his glass, "Well, yeah."

My mind whirled a little, but it made sense. When else could he have been in a position to get the seeds of a fantasy like that? "You do understand," I said slowly, "that even Tim can't know what we're getting up to, do you?"

"Of course! I didn't mean–" 

I put my finger on his lips to shush him, "If... and that's a big 'if', you understand... if I was to promise you a little slip at home next time Tim comes to visit, will you help me fulfil one of my little fantasies while we're here?" I could scarcely believe I was saying this, offering this. But there again, Ben and I's new relationship was bringing the inner slut racing to the surface.

For his part, Ben was speechless. He nodded frantically.

"Deal?"

More nods.

"Ben, you haven't even asked what I might want to trade."

"I know," he managed, "but I'd do anything at all for that."

"It really has been a serious fantasy of yours, hasn't it?"

He seemed to be defying his blush, looking me in the eyes again now, "Yeah – seriously."

"Okay," I said, plunging in before I could chicken out. "I'll be in a bar tonight and I want you to come in, pretend you've never met me. Chat me up at the bar counter, try some moves. When I let you then you start to get real friendly – kisses and hands – and then we'll just have to leave. But outside, maybe down a side alley to the place, you have to," I dropped my voice to the gentlest of whispers, "fuck me."

"Yes!"

"We might well be followed out of the bar, you know? By anyone who thinks they know what we'll be doing?"

"Yes, anything!"

My nipples were rigid and I was suddenly and delightfully close to climax, "You do that for me," I whispered, "and I promise that as long as you keep what's really happening between us a total secret, your friend will get to see my tits exposed, okay?"

Ben was close to hyperventilating, "I promise too," he whispered urgently, "Now can we get back to the hotel before I cum in my jeans?"

*****

The sun had set before we managed to get ourselves ready for some fun and out of the hotel room. More to the point, out of the hotel room's bed. I had pointed out to my Ben that what we were doing was very wrong and he thoroughly agreed – it had become something of a joke for us by then – and he had even paused mid-way through a particularly energetic session in the bath to mention just how wrong it was, pointing down to where his rigid cock was spreading my pussy lips. I'd always deeply loved my boy, but at that moment I think I started to fall deeply in love with him.

I also loved the fact that he was willing to play out one of my favourite fantasies – the bar pick-up – although I was a little worried by the thought of showing off in front of Tim. But that would come later, and as we picked out a likely looking bar I pushed thoughts of future naughtiness to the very darkest recesses of my newly-reckless brain.

We stood fifty yards down the road from the chosen location, Wagon Train, and Ben looked into my eyes. 

"You totally sure about it, ma?"

"I've dreamt about it often enough. More to the point are you sure you know the game-plan?"

He looked down at the strappy, loose, summery dress I was wearing and genuinely licked his lips – moistening more than one type of lip in the process, "I come in, spot you at the bar, sidle up, offer you a drink, we chat, we get heated fast, then we make sure lots of guys are watching and we dash out to the alleyway just beside the bar."

"Spot on so far. Then?"

"Then," Ben grinned, "I start to kiss you and... we get more and more heated. Then... what was it?"

"You'd better not tease this much when the time comes."

"Ma, I seriously doubt whether I could manage to tease for more than two seconds. You look so awesomely hot in the dress. And out of it. Then we get it on as much as we can."

Sure, the fantasy was one I'd been dreaming about for years and to have it so close to coming true was wild, but Ben's comments about my looks were hotter still. "I'll be more than ready, I promise." I assured him, "And talking of promises, you might want to call Tim tomorrow and invite him over the night we're getting home..."

My son's eyes rolled for a moment, "On a scale of one to a thousand you just have to be a million. Let's get started before I explode right here."

I laughed, "Flattery will get you everywhere. Give me five minutes head start, okay?"

Ben checked that we were alone for the moment then leaned forward and kissed me, surprising me with the gentleness of the gesture and not surprising me at all when he paired the action with a swift squeeze of me breasts. "See you in five, ma."

I headed off for Wagon Train before I forgot the fantasy act altogether.

*****

The bar was moderately busy, moderately clean, moderately full of young men and absolutely perfect for the fantasy me. I ordered a large vodka and cranberry juice from the young barman and received my drunk in record time when he realised just how much flesh was on show between the halter panels of my summer dress. I sat myself on a tall stool at one corner of the bar, all the better for ensuring the whole room could see me – and for ensuring that the summer dress rode up my thighs far enough so that the room's occupants would no doubt see that I favoured stockings.

It felt like a very long five minutes before I registered Ben's entrance out of the corner of my eye, and an even longer five minutes before he moved to a barstool right beside me.

"Excuse me," he said in his best, deepest accent, "Would you mind if I sat here for a while?"

I looked into this 'stranger's' eyes, my heart-rate already climbing, "It's a free country."

Apparently – and understandably – unperturbed by my seemingly cool response, he continued, "My name's Ben and I really couldn't help but come over and say that you are looking absolutely beautiful sat there."

"That's very kind of you to say... Ben," I paused and looked him over, "Particularly coming from a very pleasant young man such as yourself. My name is Marie and my preferred drink is a vodka and cranberry."

Ben turned and was about to signal to the barman but found him standing close enough to hear anyway, "Please?"

When the barman had scurried off, the 'young man' turned back to me, "Well, Marie, may I also say that you are dressed immaculately. Very sexily, if I may be so bold."

"You most certainly may. It's not my normal attire, but one likes to please oneself occasionally with something a little more... alluring."

"Consider me allured, Marie... er, thank you barman. Here's twenty and keep the change. Where was I? Oh yes, being allured. By your outfit and by the very sexiness you exude."

"My but you're a bold young man, Ben. Not that I am objecting thus far."

From the background I could hear a couple of muffled comments which were either deriding Ben's 'chances' with the 'tasty older broad' or more frequently praising my more obvious (if 'tiny tits' counts) charms.

Ben was busy ignoring the background remarks as well – or possibly thoroughly enjoying them, "Bold I might be, but I don't often seem to find myself in a bar where there's such a gorgeous looking lady present, and I'd feel like I wasted a massive opportunity if I didn't tell her as much."

"Very bold."

"Not too bold, I hope?"

"Far from it," I said, "it's very welcome coming from a handsome young man. Although I must admit that such compliments don't ordinarily make me feel quite so..."

"Surprised? Amused?"

"I was going to say totally fucking horny."

Ben's jaw dropped, although his eyes lit up with laughter. I knew that he wasn't quite so used to the woman rather than the mother yet, but I wasn't exactly joking. Here I was sitting in a bar where at least five guys were trying to unobtrusively overhear our every word, my stocking tops visible and the top of my dress exposing the inner sides of my breasts. And far, far, far more wild, was the fact that I knew I was about to kiss my son in front of all of them. Even though they had no way of knowing that – and I sincerely hoped the difference in our ages was not that obvious – Ben and I both knew. Both knew how very naughty this was on so many levels. And after the kiss? Well, the alley awaited. Not to mention my suddenly very moist pussy...

Ben's voice brought me back to the reality of the room and the reality of my fantasy being played out in such a very real way. "I must say, Marie, you do look rather aroused, now I come to look closely into your eyes."

"And my breaths are coming faster, you might also notice."

Ben looked down at my small but clearly moving breasts and smiled, licking his lips, "I do notice," he confirmed, "My words seem to have had a remarkable effect on your breathing, if what I can see of your beautiful breasts is anything to go by. Again, as long as you don't mind me saying that?"

"I would not under normal circumstances be so quick to allow a young man to make such observations, but quite frankly you're having the remarkable effect that you just mentioned. I'm finding myself absolutely adoring your comment about my breasts. You're making my lips suddenly rather dry."

Ben was breathing hard himself and had to clear his throat before he said, "I might be able to assist with them, Marie. If you wish?"

Here was the moment. I just hoped I didn't start to climax right there on the stool. "I feel a need to receive whatever help you an offer."

With trembling fingers, Ben rested his right hand on my left shoulder, and after a short pause he started to draw me forward to where he was leaning close. Our lips met in that noisy bar and were my ears not suddenly ringing with inner excitement I'm sure I would have heard sharp intakes of breath all around us. The kiss was nervously timid at first but the knowledge of what we were really doing soon had our lips mashing together and I felt my son's tongue push between my eager lips, meeting and wrestling gloriously with my own. 

I slid from the stool into his arms, our lips still locked, aware that the dress's skirt was caught on the seat behind me somehow baring my legs so that my thin, lacy white panties were barely covered. I didn't care. Loved it, in fact.

We kissed for a few more seconds before we broke the clinch to draw breath and look at the passions we had drawn from each other. Ben glanced down and saw the exposure of my thighs and whimpered under his breath.

"Do you..." he paused to swallow hard, "Do you think that it might be a little fairer on others here if we were to retire to somewhere a little more private?"

"I think that might be a very good idea," I nodded, "And rather quickly."

Ben turned on his heel at once, his right hand seeking and finding mine right behind him. He almost ran through the bar and I was right behind him, as clearly desperate as he was to move to the final act of my fantasy. We passed at least half a dozen open mouthed stares from the young male customers and each one simply increased my levels of arousal to the point where I was starting to leak juices into my skimpy panties as I trotted after my son.

"I'm not sure," Ben said loudly over his shoulder – a part of the 'script', "that I will be able to get too far before another kiss!"

"Fine by me," I managed as we clattered through the doors and onto the street.

We really were rather desperate for another clinch – and much more – as we sought out the darkened alleyway, and that desperation cranked another ten notches when we heard the bar doors open and close noisily behind us.

We reached the alley and Ben said, loudly, "Not sure I can wait any more. In here okay for you?"

I matched his volume, neither of us daring to check behind us, "Suits me fine. Anywhere away from the crowd just now!"

We turned, stumbling, into the alleyway and went no more than ten yards before I hauled Ben to a halt, spinning him to face me and pulling him close. "Kiss me, Ben!"

"Not changed your mind then?" he managed before our lips locked.

"No way," I mumbled into his mouth, pulling his pelvis towards my dripping pussy, delighted to realise just how hard he already was, my shoulders coming to rest against a stack of boxes.

He broke the kiss long enough to grunt "Good!" and with an urgency that I adored, his hands swiftly pulled the top halves of my dress wide apart, baring my breasts as the straps slipped down my arms.

"Oh fuck yes! Still think my breasts are beautiful?"

There was more than enough light for him to give a genuine answer even if he couldn't remember from a few hours before. But he genuinely looked, stared, and this time groaned aloud. "Oh, ma... Marie, they are perfect!"

"Kiss them then, kiss my bare tits!"

As Ben's head was about to drop and his mouth was therefore about to make me squeal with pleasure, we heard footsteps at the end of the alleyway and two sharp whistles of indrawn breath.

"Kiss them Ben!" I demanded.

His head dropped and I really did squeal, even as a voice echoed along the alley "She's got her tits out for him!"

"Lucky little fuck," another voice replied.

"She must've heard us as well and she ain't stopping him!"

"I bet she does if we get any closer."

"I'm gonna try a few steps anyway."

I turned to look at the two guys stepping into the alley. This was way beyond anything I'd ever risked before but I was hotter than I'd ever been before. I leaned down to Ben's level and hissed "Don't you dare stop! Remember what I'm gonna do for your friend and if you take it all the way here I'll let him see everything okay?" I really was that hot and desperate for my son.

Ben released a nipple and hissed his reply, "I don't think I could stop anyway."

I'd made the offer unnecessarily – and right then with the two strangers just feet away I didn't care. When Ben's hands yanked the front of my dress even harder and the buttons popped open and off I moaned "Yes!" as the garment fell to the floor leaving me in just stockings and the skimpy white panties. I twisted enough to make sure the two guys could see everything I was left wearing and grabbed at the front of Ben's jeans, making it clear what I wanted.

My son's hands grabbed the sides of my panties and he yanked them down my legs before I could even check how close the strangers were but as the cool night air hit my exposed pussy I knew I didn't care. When the closest one squawked "I can see her cunt for fuck's sake!" I nodded and grinned lasciviously.

"And," I said to Ben, "I want your cock in it right now."

Ben's jeans hit the floor and I swear I could feel a wave of heat from his hard cock as it sprang free. He bent at the knees slightly and pulled me close. I levered myself higher with my arms on his shoulders, my legs wrapping around his hips, and in a delightful second the head of his springing dick pressed against my soaking wet lips. I let myself a little lower just as he bucked and he slid straight into me.

The fastest climax I have ever had in my life started right then and there as my deepest, darkest fantasy came to glorious life, and as my own son's cock started to ram my overheated pussy right there in front of two strangers. 

I rode his rigid member with the abandonment of the most powerful orgasm, delighting in the feel of his hands under my butt cheeks and one squeezing one tit while another pulled at my other nipple... it took my mind a few seconds to work out my son didn't have that many hands and I looked down to see each of my tits being played with by the strangers .

"Oh fucking hell... yes." I'd never fantasised this much happening but now it was... oh, I was in heaven. I looked into Ben's eyes even as we pumped and ground away at each other. I was looking for his okay, wanting it so much. He was looking back, making sure, I realised, that I was okay with it. Then we nodded ever so slightly.

"Feel great don't they?" he gasped.

"Fucking right, pal," one of the strangers grunted.




Rights and Wrongs Ch. 03



I promised to tell you all about what I referred to as the 'dim, distant future', didn't I? Well that future is now part of my past and I'm thinking that it was a good promise to make. I need to tell you what happened after Ben and I got home, and maybe to try a bit more to explain where that right versus wrong balance was heading.

I didn't regret what had happened in that dark alleyway, even though it had all gone to a far more extreme place than I had been expecting. I didn't regret the actions Ben and I had taken - either in the alley or before and afterwards in bed. Or the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, the hallway... well, you get the drift. 

But there was one tiny thing that was bugging me on the hurried trip back from the hotel - a 'wrong' that I was already beginning to regret promising my son. Before that wild night in the alleyway I had somehow agreed to play out a fantasy for Ben in return for his play-acting on my behalf. I'd agreed that his good friend Tim would get to see me topless. That wasn't too much of a price to pay for my own fantasy fulfilment even if it was so out of character for me (no, really), and I was almost certain that I could make everything seem like an accident. But then... somehow I'd used the repayment offer to take things further with Ben and my dream - and extended the offer. I'd agreed to let his friend see everything.

After all that had happened with my son (especially in the alleyway) I guess it sounds odd that something like exposure to his friend would begin to trouble me so much, but I swear on all I hold dear that I have always been naturally shy. The fantasy play-out was a long way from home and very much in the dark. No one who had witnessed anything would have ever been able to pick me out of a line-up but Tim knew me, had known me for years. I started to fret seriously even as Ben and I made our way home from the hotel. Once we were safely back at our house, I just had to raise the worry.

"Ben, angel, are you... well, are you sure you want me to... well, you know, kind of bare things for Tim?"

My son, who had been reading something on his phone, looked up at me with a smile that I can only describe as something close to a leer. "Ma, I'm totally sure. You're not trying to back out are you? I mean you're the one who's always told me a deal is a deal."

"Well, yes..." Trust my Ben to use my own words against me, "But what if he tells someone or something?"

"Don't worry about that sort of thing. For a start we can make it look like a pure accident and in any case I'll tell him never to breathe a word."

"You trust him that much, Ben?"

"Totally, ma. So stop fretting and start planning, okay?"

I looked levelly at my son, "This is a really big deal for me, you understand?"

"So was what I did for you, ma. I just want what's fair and it's not like anything much is going to happen, is it?" He paused and gave me his trademark grin, "Other than the fact that I will be even more eager to make love to you."

I snorted a laugh despite my worries, "Like you need any encouragement to get inside your very own mother."

"Like you ever refuse me."

"You think you'll really get an extra buzz from Tim seeing me like that?"

"Ma," Ben sighed, standing and crossing to me, "Just the thought of you baring these," he squeezed my breasts through my top, "and this beautifully styled pussy," his hand slid easily up my skirt to its target, "make my cock so hard."

"I don't believe you," I managed. "Show me."

Let me tell you - Ben might have next stripped and made love to me, but for me it was a fuck, pure and simple. Or rather, pure and complex.

It still felt so wild and so wrong and yet so right. Even when my son was sated, asleep on my bare shoulder, even with a pussy full of his juices, I couldn't help but think that the sex was just a distraction for me. Oh, I could let my very own son have access to every part of me in the most intimate of ways, but baring my flesh to his friend? That was beginning to scare me rigid.

Two days and somewhere around ten fucks/love-making sessions later, Ben had to return to his temporary job and I was left to catch up on some much-needed rest in a quiet, empty house. Which also meant that I was alone to fret and worry.

I knew I had made the promise and I was no welcher, but exposure to Tim? I'd known him as a toddler all the way through his tormented teens until he shared eighteenth birthday celebrations with my own son - and held his long hair out of his face when he threw up as a result of their sneaked beers. Letting him see me topless, let alone fully naked, just seemed so terribly wrong to me.

The scales in the 'rights and wrongs' debate were tilting alarmingly for what was, I knew, such a relatively (no pun intended) little thing, and yet... What if this was a sign of where things might escalate to? What if by letting my son have his way with me - okay, letting us give in to our mutual passions - was just a starting point on a road to real depravity? 

Strangers seeing me - touching me, even - was one thing, one fantasy I had now lived out, but Tim was known so well to me. What if Ben began to want more of me? Sure, there were only just about five months before he had to move away but things were already happening so fast... Perhaps I should simply call a halt to everything right now?

But I knew even as the thought clattered through my messy mind, that I simply couldn't stop things just yet. The sudden wetness I felt when I thought of how Ben felt inside me told me more than I even needed to know. The balance still tilted to 'right', no matter what anyone might think.

All I had to do was fulfil Ben's pretty harmless fantasy. I just needed a good plan.

"I'm going to do it," I told my son as soon as he returned home that night.

"Er, good? What are you talking about exactly? Letting me through the front door maybe?"

"Sorry," I stood back to let him inside, "I mean I have a plan for that Tim thing."

Ben paused as he shrugged his jacket off, "Oh, right. I knew you'd think of something pretty quickly. After all, I know you're as good as your promise."

I told him all about my scheme and I was suddenly very sure that my boy liked the idea. I could tell because he shrugged off a lot more than his jacket. And a lot more than my dress. 

That was the first time he'd ever fucked me while I was bent over the back of the sofa, and I didn't even object when he took a photo of my butt for his phone's screen-saver. No one would ever recognise that view of me, and given the look of pure, satisfied ecstasy I had on my face by then, they probably wouldn't have even recognised my face. The 'rights' were back in the ascendency.

Tim wasn't due to visit until the following weekend, and I found that just a tiny flash of bare flesh was increasingly all it took to get my son as hard as a rock - no matter where we were or even what we had been doing. Ben's highly aroused reactions were almost making me look forward to the actual act - almost.

My nerves returned in force on the Saturday morning despite needing to 'calm' my Ben three times before we had even managed to finish breakfast. It was half an hour before Tim's scheduled arrival when those feelings bubbled over.

"Ben? I really don't think is such a great idea..."

"You'll be fine, ma. And besides, you owe me, remember?" 

My son's certainty - and sense of very fair justice - were almost complacent and that didn't help me much, "That's easy for you to say. Wouldn't you prefer something else? Couldn't I... oh, I don't know... maybe just give Tim a quick flash of me in my undies and then I could maybe go away with you somewhere remote and really flash someone we don't know?" 

"You sound like a real chicken, ma. And you did promise-" 

"I know!" The minutes were ticking by and my nerves were jangling. I realised I was close to panic - and panic is not a great background for clear judgement, "Ben, listen - I know this was your fantasy to match mine, but angel, isn't there something else? Anything else? I really want you to be happy, get a buzz from something I do. And I will - do something, anything you want - just let me tone it down with Tim. Please?" I was babbling. And maybe not thinking at all clearly.

I could see the disappointment on my son's face, but he was looking straight into my panicked eyes. 

"Ben? Please?"

The silence echoed around the room before his shoulders finally sagged and he gave a tiny nod, "I really don't want to upset you, ma... maybe we can do a deal then."

My heart soared with renewed hope, "Seriously?"

Ben nodded, "Just as long as you keep this new promise."

"Oh, I will, I swear. Undies this morning and then we'll go away again where no one knows us, yes?" My mind was totally oblivious to what I was saying now, such was the relief I was feeling right at that moment, "Then anything goes, okay?"

"One condition about today though, ma," Ben was showing all the signs of a very disappointed young man, and if there was a slightly devious look behind his eyes I didn't notice it.

"Tell me and as long as it's no more than I've already offered, then fine!"

"Will you make the bra and knickers really sexy ones?"

I shrugged, suddenly - stupidly - devil-may-care, "As long as they stay on and as long as it's just for a few seconds that he sees them, that's fine." From stupid to totally dumb, "I'll even let you choose them. Deal?"

Ben paused long enough to make sure I meant what I was saying (I think) then slowly nodded. "Deal."

Believe it or not I was even telling my Ben that I wouldn't object to anything he chose for me to wear that Saturday, or to anything he chose for me to do when we went away, even as we were making our way up to my bedroom with just ten minutes to go before Tim was due to arrive. Believe it or not as well, I was feeling relieved and more than happy with the new deal.

Other than telling Ben that the house phone would ring not long after Tim arrived, and that it was supposedly a call for me - who would be in the bathroom - I didn't let on what my original (and now much less panic-inducing) plan was. I just told him that he was to answer it and say something like 'I'll get her straight away', then call out to me. 

I could, I knew, carry this plan out more than happily, and even when Ben picked out a matching set of skimpy, lacy underwear, I wasn't too perturbed. That Tim would be able to see my nipples through the gauzy, white material was no more than a mild concern for me then - the view wouldn't be on show for more than a few seconds and, I told myself, at least Ben would get something of a thrill from my muted exposure.

Even so, when the doorbell rang a few minutes later, my heart-rate shot into three-figure territory. Or possibly the four-figure range. To mask my sudden nerves I stopped Ben at my bedroom door and gave him a quick kiss, even that gentle naughtiness making me feel so bad-good. 

Grinning and already clearly aroused, Ben trotted off down the stairs and I was left to grab the flimsy undies, a specific long bath-towel and, most importantly, my iPhone. I took three long, deep breaths then crossed the hall to the bathroom, closing its door behind me and then spinning the shower taps.

With shaking fingers I stripped off as quickly as I could and dived under the warm stream of the shower. As nervous as I was, I still took the time to shower properly giving Ben time to get Tim chatting in the living room and my blood pressure time to calm down a little.

After a few minutes it became clear even to me that I was prevaricating. I tried to focus on the new, improved deal, and reasoned with myself that the sooner I got this part of the deal out of the way, the sooner I could stop fretting and start enjoying my naughty new habit. I got out of the shower and quickly towelled my hair and dried myself as best I could. I prevaricated just a little longer and chose to pull a brush through my damp tresses before finally confronting the suddenly even skimpier-looking underwear Ben had chosen.

I had to grudgingly admit that he had chosen very well. The bra and panties were new and bought specifically to please my son's eyes - although I had, of course, no idea that they would be seen in this manner when I'd purchased them just the previous week. They fitted perfectly, if even more skimpily than I remembered them from the changing room, and when I looked in the bathroom's full-length mirror I was a little shocked by how clearly my nipples and, I have to say it, my neatly shaved pussy area could be seen.

My pulse quickened once more and I needed a few more deep breaths before I could even consider going through with my suddenly Baldrick-esque seeming cunning plan. 

But I had to, I knew. And focusing on just how much my Ben would enjoy the show was a newfound help. I fixed a memory of his eager eyes in my head and carefully - and loosely - wrapped a particular towel I had chosen around my barely-covered flesh.

My fingers were trembling badly enough that I was grateful I had the home number on speed dial and I clicked the relevant button before I could do so much as think about changing my mind. With a hand that felt numb I held the phone to my ear and cursed Ben for taking an age to answer, even though I knew he was just trying to make things look natural for his friend.

"Ready?" I squeaked as soon as he said 'hello'. 

"Absolutely, I'll call her," he managed in a far more controlled way than I could possibly have managed.

Then I heard his voice call up the stairs, "Ma, that important call you were expecting? The guy's on the phone now!"

I didn't let myself think - didn't dare. I switched off the iPhone and walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs at a trot, heading into the living room before my nerves got the better of me. Somehow I even managed to offer Tim, sitting in one of our armchairs, a brief wave by way of greeting before I took the receiver from Ben and said a strained 'hello' to the dial tone.

I've no idea how well I acted out the supposed telephone conversation or whether it was even remotely believable, but I managed to have a two minute 'conversation' before I knew the time had come and I said goodbye to the gentle buzzing in my ear.

In what seems like slow motion, I bent over to replace the handset in its cradle before taking a deep breath and starting to stand upright, at the same moment turning to face the boys, Tim in an armchair and Ben standing to my left, trying hard to seem casual. As I'd bent forward to replace the phone my left foot had found the corner of the towel and I leant my weight on it as I straightened.

Even if I had changed my mind just at that moment, I was too late. The towel fell away from me far faster than I had feared. It was no more than two seconds before I stood there, naked but for the tiny bra and panties.

I froze, no acting required. I watched as Tim's jaw quite literally opened wide. I could see Ben gawping in delight. 

And still I was standing there, frozen in the moment. My nipples hardened even more than they already were as I saw Tim's eyes devouring them. I felt my groin moisten, a heat pouring up through my belly. For a moment I had an image of myself standing there naked, just as Ben and I had originally planned.

Tim was loving it. He was loving the sight of my hard, dark nipples straining at the stupidly thin bra that barely contained them. He was seeing the sexual me. He might even feel the heat pouring off me as my excitement rose and rose. He might even realise I was getting so turned on by his eager gaze...

I squealed and brought my hands up to cover my nearly-exposed breasts, trying to ignore the hardness of my nipples as they pressed into my palms. Then I realised that my panties were no more opaque that my bra and even as I stared, shocked in a weird way, at Tim's eager eyes, I dropped both hands to my almost-exposed pussy.

Then I realised my breasts were now on show once more.

I shuffled my hands until the worst - or best - of my near-nakedness was covered, finally realising that turning my back was all that was needed. So I spun around. And then realised my butt was now pretty much completely on view.

I pirouetted, hands moving quickly to cover whatever was now on show. And realised I was prolonging the moment, getting hotter and - I admit it - wetter by the second. 

And then Tim rose unsteadily and bent before me, his eyes just a few inches from the source of my heat and moisture. My heart was almost pushing one breast free from its flimsy covering, calming not one iota when I finally realised that he was holding my towel, offering me a chance to cover my body and my blushes.

I snatched at it, already stammering apologies and excuses, even as the naughty mother part of me made sure that I fumbled the towel into position very slowly.

One tiny glance at the front of both my son's and Tim's jeans let me know that I had achieved all that I was supposed to achieve under the terms of the new deal. It also flashed a warning across my frazzled brain. I was at a crossroads, and to this day I'm not sure whether I should be relieved that I chose that moment to dash from the room and up to my own bed.

I know I should have been brave and gone downstairs that night and offered some sort of apology or (fictional) explanation, but I just wasn't that bold, that assured of myself back then. But there again, I wasn't so dumb that I didn't realise just what I'd done, and just what effect it had brought to my boy and his friend.

The friend who had now seen me in such skimpy little 'clothes'. Tim, who had a very good view of my actual nipples through the gauze of that silly little bra. Ben's pal who had seen the shadow of my pussy and then the bare cheeks of my butt. That friend who had said, quite clearly as I dashed up the stairs 'wow, I know she's your mum Ben, but she is fucking hot!'

And Ben's rather shaky reply. 'Don't worry, man. I can hardly deny you. What a bod!'

I lay on my bed, just a few feet above them, listening to my son's pal, cautiously at first but then more freely, discuss how 'fit' I was, how lucky Ben was to have such a 'fucking gorgeous' mother, how he would be 'hard as a rock' around me all the time if I were his mother. 

I was already rubbing at my swollen, wet pussy - the one Tim had really seen through my panties - when I heard my Ben, my son, admit to his friend that he found me 'so sexy', and I was remembering just how sexy Ben found me when he thrust his gorgeously smooth cock deep into me, how hard he would be later now that I had done what he wanted, when I started to climax. 

My door was still half-open but I couldn't keep too quiet as my hips bucked. I was beyond caring and maybe, just maybe, wondering, hoping that my muffled moans might even attract the boys' attention. I even wished for a few seconds that I had followed the original plan and let Tim see my bare flesh, my tits exposed, my pussy bare and glistening with my juices as my excitement grew...

I climaxed so very hard, but even through the creeping embarrassment that followed, I was still willing Tim to leave quickly so Ben would come and find me, come and fill me.

I was still in the skimpy bra and panties an hour later when the front door finally signalled Tim's departure and I was standing in my doorway when Ben took the stairs three at a time a few seconds later.

"Well? Did I do it like you wanted, angel?"

Ben's hands fumbled at the waistband of my tiny panties, "Oh fuck, ma! Oh fuck yes!"

With tremulous hands Ben exposed first my womanhood and then my breasts and I found myself moving backwards rapidly. As my shoulder blades thumped into the bed I managed a laugh, "I take it you both enjoyed the show?"

"Ma, that was so hot I can't tell you."




Rights and Wrongs Ch. 03



"Well show me then."

Ben's jeans hit the floor, and his cock sprang free as hard as I'd ever seen it, "Does this show you well enough?" he managed, struggling out of his shirt.

"I think," I said, shocking myself with my honesty, "that only a fuck will prove the point."

Ben almost leapt on top of me, my legs spreading wide to welcome him. His hands came to rest on my shoulders, pinning me there as he took in a full body view, before he groaned and thrust himself into me, his rigid cock meeting no obstruction.

Within seconds he was pawing at my bare breasts, and I pulled his mouth down to mine, thrusting my tongue between his lips, wanting nothing more than pure sex with my boy. 

His lips were clamped over mine as he pulled at a nipple, his cock already pounding at my welcoming centre. I pulled back to stare into his eyes, "Ben? Angel? Do you realise you're making mummy cum?"

"Good! I wanted to cum all the time Tim was looking at your fucking gorgeous body, and now... oh fuck, ma, I'm going to fill your pussy any second."

I was bucking even as the first spurts of my son's hot cum started to fill me. I yowled with joy and release, just as loud as I wanted, needed. Louder still when Ben accompanied his eager final thrusts with a mouth on my left breast, sucking hard, nipping me.

Waves of pure climactic pleasure washed through me and I wrapped my legs around Ben, my hands moving to his bare butt, holding him deep inside me. I think I blacked out for a few seconds just then.

Ben was still inside me when I got my senses back, and other than a brief break for thirst-quenching cold beers and a subsequent trip to the bathroom, that was where he stayed pretty much all of that night. Bouts of love-making, some frantic fucks and a lot of dirty words were shared. It was almost dawn before we managed to talk properly.

"So, I take it that I played out the first part of your fantasy okay?"

Ben kissed a by-now rather sore breast, "Maybe even better than I dared hope, ma. I take it that you didn't find it so bad after all?"

"I think I rather liked your fantasy."

"Half my fantasy," Ben reminded me.

"True. And if the other half makes me feel anything like that I'll consider myself more than lucky. Just what do you have in mind?" I genuinely didn't care at that point.

"The deal still stands this time?"

I nodded, "I won't deny you twice, but I'd better warn you - if it makes me feel anything like tonight did, you'll have one heck of a lot of fucks to pay me back with."

"Good. And you'll do anything I say?"

"Just so long as it doesn't involve kids or animals."

"I'd better send Lassie back," Ben laughed.

I slapped his rump playfully, "Anything else is fine. Any ideas yet?"

I could feel Ben begin to stiffen deep inside me and I gently pushed him out and off. "Sorry, angel, but this is one sore mother." Some pain is just too much for any other form of enjoyment.

"Oh well, just so long as you're ready for the next stage. This weekend?"

"I'll be fine by then," I assured him, "but you still haven't told me what you're planning."

Ben pursed his lips, "You know I love it when other guys see how hot you are?"

"I did notice a certain firmness about you. So I take it I'll be seen?" I was already keen on the idea, and I wanted Ben to know it.

"Yeah, and maybe even touched. That okay?"

I frowned. That was beyond what I'd imagined but there again my very own fantasy had led to me being felt up in that dark alleyway. If it turned Ben on that much then... maybe that was okay, "I... guess it's okay."

I felt Ben stiffen even more against my thigh where he lay next to me, "Oh, ma, you're perfect. Sure you're too sore?"

"My other lips aren't," I scooted back then curled up so my face was close to his slightly sore-looking, but utterly gorgeous cock. As I opened wide and let the head of his member slide deep into the warmth of my mouth I heard him sigh, 'best mum in the world, ever'.

The naughtiest, I thought to myself as I started to move my head back and forward, but I'm pretty sure those right outweigh the wrongs by a million to one. At least a million, I added as my ever-hard son's hands tangled in my hair.

I barely gave a thought to my forthcoming task, but I was pretty sure that I would be getting my Ben super-hard once again.



Rights and Wrongs Ch. 04



He -- Ben -- didn't realise just how much I'd loved the first part of his deal in the end. And, trust me, I wasn't going to tell him anytime soon. I scarcely believed me myself but I just knew -- totally knew -- that something was changing inside me. 

It had been so long since I had ever been anything but a perfectly respectable wife and mother, but now it was if the clock had rolled back twenty years. I started to remember in far more detail how wild I'd been for a short period of time when I was around twenty, how much I had enjoyed being a figure of attraction for men. And here I was again, unexpectedly, almost shockingly, beginning to feel just the same way again. Only now I was acutely aware that I could turn the heads of men of very different ages in very different ways.

Ben had helped me fulfil a fantasy that was almost two decades old, and I had loved the whole experience. In many ways it had been beyond my wildest fantasy because I'd added my own son to the whole equation and rightly or wrongly (your call) I had been seen actually fucking my own son -- not that those who witnessed everything realised. With the exception of that very old woman.

It was wrong in lots of ways. But right in so many more as far as I was concerned. 

And I had promised to repay my boy, to fulfil his fantasy just as he had fulfilled mine. But I had a serious attack of chicken, and no matter that I ended up just loving the muted exposure I was all too aware that I still owed my son. Sounds crazy, sounds so un-motherly, but there you have it. I owed him the second part of his part of the deal and I was comfortable with that. Nervous, excited, but comfortable. I trusted Ben completely. I didn't even think that was stupid of me, no matter that the 'rights and wrongs' scales were still present somewhere deep in my brain, oscillating gently.

As Homer often says, d'oh.

It was the rather sore morning after appearing in front of Ben's friend in the skimpiest underwear when my son outlined his second part of the deal.

And even as my inner excitement mounted, even as I began to look forward to the passion and arousal I would bring to Ben and a couple of strangers we were yet to meet, and would, according to my boy, never see again, part of me died. Or came to life.

I was living a lie. 

All the wrongs came home to roost, scattering the rights as easily as a hurricane scattered a million rose petals. 

I was almost forty, I was living out a near-childhood fantasy. I was -- god -- I was screwing my son!

Had I become so desperate as the years rolled past that I would find solace in helping my son play out wild and immature fantasies? Getting my own fleeting kicks before my clock finally ran out of normal time? Was I so desperate for sex and sexual antics that I would somehow pretend that I was a near-teenager in her first bloom of naughty youth and indulge the kinkiest of immoral fantasies? Did I really need, so desperately, to have my womanhood -- my pussy, my cunt -- filled and satisfied with no less than my own flesh and blood's smooth, hard cock?

I was no more than a whore who didn't charge a penny for access to her most intimate centre.

Ben's plan -- his great and oh-so meaningful concept -- for part two of the moronically agreed deal was to engage at least two other men, two strangers, in some sort of 'back to our room' session where he would bend me over any chair that might be in the room, yank down whatever panties I was wearing and, right in front of them, spank my bare butt.

He wanted other men to witness my humiliation, my pain, my naked sex, and sure, spanking games could be fun as I well-remembered, but this wasn't fun anymore. This was degradation, I now knew. Even if he hadn't been my offspring, he was still a just kid and it was showing through.

If he'd even tried to share his thoughts and plans and ideas, then maybe I might not have slumped so deeply into the pit of reality -- and sure, I knew what I said about this being his plan and anything was to be allowed, but couldn't he see? Didn't he even have, as yet, an ounce of decency and understanding in his testosterone-fuelled mind and soul?

I wasn't mad at him, didn't scream or yell. I wasn't stupid enough not to recognise my own complicity in his self-centred sex-fest and my own lack of parental responsibility. But I couldn't even look in his direction as my shoulders slumped and I turned and walked quietly from the room.

I barely heard his plaintive wails as he tried to call me back.

*****

It was three days before I let Ben engage me in conversation of any sort and a further three before I could bring myself to discuss my change of heart -- or, as I firmly believed, my coming to my senses.

"But, ma, you promised!"

It was, to a degree, my son's last line of defence or first line of prosecution depending on your viewpoint.

"Well I was beyond stupid to agree to anything, wasn't I?"

"That is so totally unfair!" he was close to tears.

I saw them for what they were -- tears of a frustrated, sexual-fantasy-fuelled teenager -- and I didn't let them affect me. I'd suffered his tantrums for nearly two decades. "So take a ticket and join the line. I keep telling you, Ben, I got carried away. Stupidly carried away. There was never going to be more than a couple of months' worth of fun and games even if it were viable, and I just gave in to the frustrations of a stupid, stupid woman, all too fast approaching middle-age after years of boredom. And now," my voice was rising inexorably, "now I have to live the rest of my already fucked-up life in the knowledge that I lost sight of everything that was right and oh-so fucking wrong, and let my own son get his testosterone-driven cock into my tired, bored, frustrated cunt!"

A wild array of emotions crossed Ben's features in the face of my anger and righteous shame, and I could see him frantically trying to work out which emotional thrust might penetrate the new armour that I was wearing, "You... you wanted it all just as much as me!"

It was a thrust that I had already been over a thousand times in my mind during the previous twenty-four hours alone, "Well I was stupid then, wasn't I? And before you say it I know there are a few others who think it's all fine and natural, and that's good for them -- but not me. I fucked this up, Ben. My mind was screaming 'wrong' but the second you got my body interested, well that screamed 'right' and the whole balance thing was destroyed. Or fucked-up, in every sense."

There was silence then, and we stared at each other, Ben trying to find another argument that might work, and me testing out which response I would need to shut him up.

One thing had changed after all that had -- idiotically -- happened. I was suddenly far more self-aware and self-assured. I knew what I wanted and needed. I carefully relaxed my shoulders, very aware and assured that I shouldn't give my son any reason to think that I didn't mean every word I said, "Ben, I love you, but I love you as a mother should love her son. What has happened, happened, and I guess I shouldn't look on it as anything but a silly mistake, but one that we shared with the best of feelings and intentions. Something might seem right but it turns out wrong, and that's life, that's learning, that's what we're all about. All we can do is learn from this sort of shit and not -- ever -- forget it, but learn to understand that we ended up getting it all so wrong. Son, I learned more about what I really want and need through all this, and hopefully you did as well -- and we can move on now with that knowledge and maybe achieve more than we ever could before we fucked up so royally. You understand?"

Ben stared at me, mouth open, shocked and stunned. Finally, under my steady gaze, he found his voice, "But ma -- mum -- we were... enjoying it all so much, right? I mean, I never forced you into anything and... well, you were loving it, I know you were."

"That doesn't make it right," I said, quietly now.

"But... but we had a deal!"

"What we had," I continued, "was a very stupid deal. The whole thing was stupid, no matter how complicit I was, no matter how much I was getting off on everything. I was just plain wrong, okay?"

"But we did so much!"

I nodded, "Oh yeah, we did so much all right. Ben, son, we made love -- fucked if you like -- but it wasn't right on so many levels. I know it was all accidental at the start and whatever else happens in future I promise I will never, ever blame you in any way for what happened. If anything I will probably be very grateful to you. I was flattered, I found out what I had been stupidly missing out on all those years, I realised I had been so dumb and so stupidly shy -- but Ben, I was so very wrong to let you... to become involved with you in that way."

Ben was close to tears and I felt the tiniest pang, pebble, of desire behind the mountain of guilt. And he was desperate, "Ma... I only ever wanted... I mean it was us, wasn't it? You and me together?"

I nodded again, "I don't deny it. Like I said, I hope we both learned a lot about what we want and need, but most of all, I have learned that I was just plain wrong. That doesn't mean I didn't..." I swallowed noisily, "didn't love every second of our passions. Fuck, I mean, didn't love every second we were fucking and playing. I'll never forget the feeling of that lovely... cock of yours inside me... but that doesn't mean to say that I don't realise now it was all so wrong, okay?"

"No. Not okay!"

"Ben, this is my call, my choice, and I will always know it was not what you wanted. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Yes, I regret taking things this far. I regret disappointing you, letting you down. More things that are wrong -- but they don't change anything now."

My son looked hard into my eyes, his brain trying -- and failing -- to find an argument that would work against me. He had almost two decades worth of experience of his mother's iron-will -- when she wanted it -- and he knew, I could see, that this was one of those times when I wouldn't back down no matter how persuasive an argument he could find. His shoulders slumped.

"Ma... couldn't we just... I mean one more time, one last time...?"

"Oh my Ben, I'm so sorry, honestly, but no. I've already stored up enough wrongs to last me a decade or three. We can't." I simply didn't dare because I wasn't sure I could stop if we did. 

Ben didn't know about that tiny kernel of doubt that hung deep within me. He saw the steel on the surface and believed it ran deep. Thankfully.

I grabbed my car keys from the table, no longer capable of even looking into his eyes. I needed to be chastised, punished -- by someone other than myself -- and, my mind whirling, I chose that second to end the whole wrong business. Mum would know best, and even if this particular mother had so badly screwed up, my own mother would surely know better? Head down, I picked up my handbag and marched straight out to the car. I would visit my parents, give Ben time to get used to the new order, and for me, take the chastisement I so thoroughly deserved.

Mum and dad's place was only an hour's drive away, and even in my slightly flustered, thoroughly wrong state of mind, I arrived there before the sun set and before my pride could reassert itself.

I'd planned to say 'no' to Ben, planned to tell him that it had all been a terrible mistake and that it was all my fault. And I'd done that, certainly. But I'd not realised just how awful it would make me feel -- just how guilty, just how much I deserved to be chastised. 

And that's why I had taken this unplanned trip. 

Neither mum or dad had ever been anything but reasonable with me. They had raised their little girl with patience and fairness, had tolerated my teenage angst, the dodgier of my boyfriends, and they'd doted on their grandson. And now I was going to tell them -- or my mum, at least -- just how terrible their little girl had become. This unexpected visit was going to be one of the hardest things I'd ever done, but that was the whole point of it, after all -- I deserved it.

And of course, when I knocked on the door and waited until it was finally answered, it became even more difficult. Mum was out at her yoga classes and it was dad who stood there, surprised but happy to see his daughter standing, fidgeting, on the doorstep.

"Hey, angel, I didn't expect to see you here. Mum's at her soppy class, but come on in and have a tea with your old dad, yeah?"

I could hardly say no, "Hi dad, tea would be lovely." I followed him into the living room and perched myself awkwardly on the edge of the sofa.

"So what brings our lovely angel here so unexpectedly?" Dad asked, handing me a delicate cup of what I knew was going to be hideously strong tea, "Nothing wrong is there?"

"Thanks, and no. Well... kind of... maybe..."

"Angel?" Dad sat beside me, concern wrinkling his eyes. "What's wrong?"

On the drive there I'd sort of planned roughly what I was going to say -- but that was to mum. Now that dad was the only person there, the only focus, I was suddenly confused, but at the same time I understood that if I didn't say anything right there and then, didn't dive into the pit of my guilt, I might never be able to confess my desperately stupid acts. And yet it was dad... suddenly I didn't know whether that made things so much worse than if it had been mum, or whether in a very weird way it made it more appropriate, more like the justice I deserved.

I wasn't trying to gain sympathy or make my own crass actions seem anything less than they were, but I started to cry softly.

"On, angel, whatever is it?" Dad took my cup and set it on the coffee table. His arm went around my back and he pulled me tight against his side, "Let it all out and then tell me all about it, okay?"

I sniffed and nodded. I cried harder and dad just sat there, hugging me firmly, providing me with the strength I so desperately needed. He kept up a stream of meaningless but oh-so welcome words and at some point he pressed a bundle of tissues into my hands so I could stop the worst of the constant stream of my tears from soaking my blouse.

Finally I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. "Oh dad, I've been terrible!"

"I doubt that," he soothed, "Those pesky kittens probably deserved to be skinned and boiled alive."

The silly joking quality of his words brought a snort of laughter from me and I slapped at his free hand, "Dad! There were no kittens involved, okay?" I paused and the tears started up again, "Or maybe there was," I managed. "My kitten..."

From somewhere deep inside, my confession welled up and I found myself spilling out every fragment of my story, saying far more than I had ever intended, wringing every drop of truth from my dark heart.

I finally finished and we sat in a silence that echoes around the living room -- the whole house -- until my father finally gave my shoulders a squeeze.

"It sounds like my little angel has a streak of devil in her."

"I know, dad, I know. Will you ever be able to forgive me?"

Dad sat back, his arm falling from my shoulders, "I might have more trouble forgiving myself."

That comment confused me, "What?"

"It sounds, angel, as if I was maybe a little too easy-going with you when you were that rebellious teenager who was always spouting weird ideas about how we should all be more liberated with our thinking."

It was true that I used to be able to say almost anything around the house when I'd still been at school and was finally finding my way towards adulthood. Mum always tutted, sighed and ignored me, but dad was even more tolerant. "You were always very understanding back then--"

"Sounds more like I was stupid!" Dad interrupted, a dark edge to his voice that both alarmed me a little, and in a weird way, vindicated my confessional mood.

"You weren't stupid, dad, that's what I've been but it's not your fault."

"Really?" Dad rose and turned his back to me, "If you hadn't called a halt to this... this nastiness... then you would have been swanning off with Ben this weekend to... what was it? Have some spanking game session?"

"Well... yes... but I stopped it before it happened, right?" I stood up, slowly, uncertainly.

My dad span round to face me, "Oh yes," his voice darkened further, "and perhaps if I'd dished out a real spanking or two when you were that mouthy teenager, I might be able to say this is all your fault now, or maybe you would never have become so... so... nasty!"

"No dad! You were always a perfect parent for me, you helped me think for myself, you--"

"And you think this is good thinking, do you?" Dad's right hand shot forward and he grabbed my sleeve, spinning me to face the sofa, "Well... perhaps... perhaps it's not too late to slap a little sense into you!"

I gasped as my father pushed me forward and gasped again as I felt my belly pushed over the arm of the sofa. "Dad!"

"Shut up, you disgusting little bitch!" A heavy hand slapped my ass through my summery skirt, "This is what you really needed when I was being such a 'good, kind father', right?"

"No!" I was sliding into the deepest panic, a tiny part of my mind wondering why I couldn't pull away, run for cover.

A second slap, harder, brought a gasp from me and a grunt from my father, "You always were the wilful, pretty little thing, weren't you? Wrapping me around your little finger even as your mind must have been filling with filth!"

"Dad! I'm sorry, okay, really!"

If I thought that I knew what panic and shame was, the rough hand that pushed up my skirt and ripped my panties down my thighs had me shrieking, "Dad! Daddy!"

"What's the matter, angel?" Another slap, this time on my bare skin, "Don't you think this would have helped put your mind straight all those years ago? Don't you think," slap, "that your daddy didn't want to make you see sense? Don't you think..." I heard a zipper sliding down and my mind swam, "don't you think that I never thought you were fucking gorgeous?"

Then I did try to struggle free but I was trapped there, "Daddy! Please don't!" 

"You rutted with my grandson so why can't I fuck you, eh, angel? Don't you think that's fitting?" I felt a sudden heat between the tops of my thighs, "Don't you think this will be fitting inside you?"

I gasped, squealed, as a hot pressure started to ease the lips of my womanhood apart. My dad, my own father, had his hard, heavy cock pressed right up against my pussy. And I was opening for him, unable to stop him entering me, feeling a deep warmth, a wetness, start to rise.

My mind was filled with the word 'wrong'. It span and spiralled around every thought my panicked brain could form. Wrong, wrong, wrong... but as I felt that thick, hard, heat drive into me, its power and strength started to dissolve the wrongs. From the depths of my mind, driven by the joy and excitement that welled in my belly, I could feel a new word forming. Right... "Oh dad! Oh this is so, so, so... right!"