Mother's Inhibitions Crumble

Summary:

This story involves a mother's desire for her son whose body is a constant temptation she must force herself to resist. This is until her son gets ideas of his own regarding what is proper between a mother and her son. Despite their love, she wants her son to find a girl and start a family. Mom learns the father of her son's girlfriend is quite a desirable man. Wedding bells for both couples lead to one traditional and one very nontraditional wedding. The uniting of these two couples establishes a new family dynamic full of passion and taboo sexual activity.

Disclaimer:

It is a story of conflicted emotions, incest, wife sharing and much more mixed together to form a hopefully erotic story that is entirely fictional. While this story is ridiculous fantasy on so many levels, it is offered simply for your reading enjoyment. AGAIN, this is fantasy and not meant to reflect reality or to condone this type of activity in real life.

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Chapter 1 -- My Son is a Temptation

I watched my son, Kyle, as he headed out the door to meet up with some of his friends. It is hard to believe I gave birth to him just over 20 years ago. I am very proud of the man he has become. I can't help but admire him and here recently that admiration was what had caused me the most concern. He had grown into a very handsome and masculine young man. As I watched him walk out the door I bothered me when I realized once again I was not looking at him as my son, but instead, as the very handsome and sexually desirable man he had become.

Now and then he had a habit of emerging from the hall bathroom wrapped in just a towel around his waist. Whenever this happened I had to get up and leave the room making an excuse I needed to get clothes out of the washer, or put dishes in the dishwasher. Anything to help remove me from the temptation and possibility of loosing control. I often found myself fantasizing about him and with just that towel wrapped around him I did not trust myself to act like a mother should.

I realize I should be ashamed of myself and I am. Despite my shame, I could not shake the images of my son that seemed to be occupying my thoughts with an increased frequency.

It had been a little over five years since my husband had walked out on Kyle and me. Apparently his new secretary, a very young and extremely attractive girl fulfilled his needs better than I had been able to accomplish. You would get no argument from me my husband had been a good father and good husband right up to that fateful day he came home and informed me he was moving out.

He told me it was not me, but rather he accepted responsibility saying the failure of our marriage was all his fault. I guess I should have been happy he was owning the blame, but it did not change the fact he was leaving. He even told me I was beautiful, a great mother and good wife. I don't know why he said it, but he even had the nerve to say I was great in bed, although those were not his exact words. As I remember it was more like "You have always been a great fuck, but..." I wanted to slap the shit out of him and I even took a swing at him. I would have connected with the side of his face had he not caught my arm in mid-air. He said he had found someone else who met his needs even better than I had been able to do.

I stood dumbstruck as I looked at him furious with my mouth hanging open. His abandonment of my son and me had been totally unexpected. Needless to say I was devastated. I tried to talk to him about it but he told me that he had said all he intended to say on the subject.

As you might expect, given the circumstances, the divorce was very nasty. After all the dust settled I came out okay financially, but emotionally I was a total wreck. My attorney saw to it that my son and I would be well taken care of into the foreseeable future, but the man I had fallen head over heals in love with in high school was no longer a part of my life. What made it even worse, the great father he had once been ended with all his attention now focused on the young bimbo he said fulfilled him better than me. The asshole now wanted nothing to do with our precious little boy.

Maybe this is a good place for me to back up a little and explain how we arrived at this point. I was the head cheerleader my Senior year in high school. I was happy and my life could not have been better. I was popular and dated several guys, but only one stole my heart like a thief in the night. I fell in love with the man whose cock would plant his seed in me and become my son's father my Senior year. My life started to crumble a few months after my eighteenth birthday. I was still single and it was then that I learned I was pregnant with Kyle.

Since pregnant cheerleaders are not an example the school board feels should be leading cheers in front of the parents, I was forced to resign from my Cheerleading squad. At the time being a Cheerleader was what I was. Being a cheerleader defined me and Cheerleading was my passion in life. Understandably so, my parents were not happy with the choices I had made. Despite their disappointment my mother stood by my side and gave me the emotional support I desperately needed to make it through this difficult time. I have always been a Daddy's Girl and even though he was disappointed Daddy was always there for me whenever I needed his support and love.

To his credit, my boyfriend, and the father of my child, stuck by me. We were married a few weeks after graduation in a small ceremony. I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy three months later. We named him Kyle and he was absolutely the most beautiful baby in the world; at least that is how I saw him. He was a perfect baby. My husband's parents helped us financially in order for my husband to be able to continue on to college and earn his degree in Engineering. As one would expect, those first few years were not easy, but my husband was a hard worker and with the love and support from both sets of parents we managed to survive.

My husband often referred to me as his trophy wife. I liked that he was proud of me and thought I was pretty. I have never had any difficulty turning a man's head, but my husband's affirmation was important to me. My mother told me several times my looks was the problem. She told me many times I was too pretty for my own good. I have always gotten a thrill knowing men think I am pretty. Despite the attention my looks generated, my husband was my only love and even though there were ample opportunities to do so, I never cheated on him.

My girlfriends did not approve of him calling me his trophy wife, but I told them it didn't bother me. They said it was condescending and I should not encourage him to refer to me in that manner. I explained I never encouraged him, but they insisted by not objecting, I was encouraging the behavior. I considered their comments as being the product of jealousy, and chose to ignore them. I knew I had a man who loved me and that was all that was important.

I was always at my husband's side for social events and functions at his office. Several times he told me, in his office a wife was essential for anyone on the rise, and if she was pretty she was an asset. His hard work resulted in him being offered the opportunity to manage a branch office of his firm.

Oftentimes I would go into his office to see him or meet him for lunch. He seemed to enjoy when I would surprise him and let him take me to lunch. His employees were always very friendly, at least until a couple months before he came home, packed his bags and told me he had found someone else.

You see, my husband had hired a new secretary and I liked her a lot. She was 12 years younger than me and very pretty. I should have known trouble was brewing, but in my eyes our marriage was solid. At least that is what I thought, so in my mind I had no reason to be jealous. I teased him asking him how much value her looks added to her overall worth when he evaluated her resume. It was no secret to me how much value he attached to a woman's physical appearance. In my naive mind I saw her looks as an asset to him and the company, never imagining I was now in competition with her for my husband.

Looking back I can see where shortly after he hired her I noticed when I visited his office, the employees who had always been friendly would make every attempt to avoid me. They would turn away as they saw me approaching, or try to avoid me in other ways, whenever they saw me. When I did happen to corner one of them and have a conversation they would try to cut short our conversation, every time. I asked my husband about this sudden change in behavior and he dismissed it as pressure that had been dumped on them as a result of some very lucrative new contracts the firm had received. I was stupid and never connected the dots of the secretary's arrival to the sudden change in attitudes. Much too late I learned everyone in the office was fully aware of my husband's affair with his new secretary. As they say, the little wife is the last to know.

Kyle, our son, was given the opportunity to decide with which parent he wanted to live. I was very happy when he chose to live with me. This was the best thing that could have happened to me at that low point in my life. It seemed this was the only thing in my life that had gone right. Kyle made it clear he wanted nothing to do with his father and his father made no attempt to mend any bridges he had burnt. I admit I was very bitter about what had happened, but his father seemed more interested in his job and his new girlfriend than he was in building a lasting bond with his son.

Kyle was a jock in high school. He played on the football team and I could always be found in the stands at every single one of his games. Whether at home or away I was there cheering my son and his team on to victory. My pride in my son was not missed by other mothers who laughed and said I was the team's biggest fan. I loved watching their games and cheering them on, what I did not like were the other player's fathers who were persistent in their efforts to get into my panties. As one of the 'pretty girls' all my life, I was accustomed to this kind of behavior from men and was pretty good at handling it. Once these fathers learned I was divorced they were like a bunch of sharks circling looking for any opportunity. What bothered me even more were the wives who saw me as a threat after the divorce became public. I didn't want their men, but those I had been good friends with put up walls to keep me away. Even though I could handle the advances of their men, I was there to see my son play, not to be preyed upon and have to deflect the advances made by these men. The single guys I expected this behavior from, but most of the men I had to fight off were those who were married to my so called friends.

After the divorce I guess I was pretty typical in that I wanted nothing to do with men or getting into a new relationship. I eventually mellowed out a little and dated a few guys. A few men got my interest, but none of these relationships developed into anything serious for the long term.

I remember one particular evening, I had been on a date and we had enjoyed a wonderful dinner. I had been on half a dozen dates with this guy and he really was one of the nicer guys I had dated. One thing led to another and I found myself on my back in my bed with my legs spread wide and my date on top of me. It had been a long time since I had felt a nice hard cock in me and the sensation of him filling me felt really good.

He was in my pussy thrusting his hard meat into me. As I lay there, with him driving hard into me, I realized I had become what I despised. The chances of anything serious developing between this man and me were slim. His hard cock felt great filling me and it definitely scratched that itch deep inside me, but I wanted more and realized while he might be able to fill my physical needs, at that moment, he could not give me what I needed emotionally. He was certainly well equipped with a fine set of tools if all I had wanted was a man to fuck me, but I knew I needed more. Even as he was still inside me, fucking me, I realized this would be our last date and I wanted to make it good for both of us. I had no idea how long it would be before I found another cock I would allow to penetrate me so I was going to enjoy this one for the last time.

To help make it good for him I was talking dirty to him, urging him on, begging him to fuck me harder. I was doing this not just because I like being fucked hard, but more because I know how dirty sex talk stimulates a man and speeds up his ejaculation, which in turn gets him out of me that much quicker. I knew when I felt his body stiffen and felt him ram himself deep inside me, his body was filling me with his seed. At that moment I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I could not even do this right. My desire to give him an orgasm quickly then get him out of me resulted in his orgasm coming just seconds before I was ready. It was my own fault for hurrying him, but I just needed a few more strokes to reach my own orgasm.

As I lay there feeling this man's hard cock transferring semen from his body into mine I realized I had serious issues I had to get a handle on, if I was ever going to be able to trust a man and once again find happiness. Trusting someone was something I found very difficult to do. The man I had loved and trusted for so long had betrayed that trust and turned my world upside down. I knew there were now only two men in my life I could trust unconditionally, my father and my own son.

Following this realization, I withdrew myself from the dating scene and poured myself into my job and my son. I am a woman who not only enjoys, but needs the touch of a man. I need a man who can make me feel secure in his arms and desired in his bed. For some reason the men I had been meeting were not fulfilling my emotional needs. Sure they were eager to give me their semen, and while that was very important to me, it was simply not enough.

On the advice of a close friend I agreed to see a psychiatrist. Maybe because the doctor was a man, or maybe it was just me, but whatever the reason, the sessions with him only frustrated me more leaving me even more confused. It was at that time in my life I remember first taking notice of my son in a different way. One day I looked up and saw him mowing the yard in a pair of cutoff jeans and an old pair of sneakers. He was shirtless and his jeans were a pair he had outgrown and as such were a couple sizes too small. I caught myself staring at him. His arms were very muscular and the shorts he was wearing were cut off a little shorter than they should have been. I noticed his thighs were thick and very muscular. I figured they developed like that from squats in the weight room during football practice. The sun had tanned his skin a deep bronze color and the sheen of perspiration covering his body made him just that much more desirable. At that moment, to me he looked like one of those Greek statues. I was ashamed what I was thinking, but I could not bring myself to stop watching him. He saw me and gave me one of his award winning smiles and waved at me. I was thankful he could not read my mind and know what I was thinking.

I realized my son was no longer my little boy, but instead he had become quite a handsome and well built man. My embarrassment at what was going through my mind bothered me for several days. How could I be thinking of my own son in this manner?

Kyle and I have always had a great relationship. I am very proud of my son and have always gotten a kick out of seeing how the girls his age look at him. I have even noticed, and laughed each time it happens, that older women look at him in much the same way.

I don't believe he realizes how good looking and sexy he is. As a woman I can read the looks on the faces of other women and pretty much know what they are thinking when they look at a man they find themselves attracted to.

When it comes to my son, the young girls will glance at him then look back as if they missed something. They will check him out, and if they are with another female they will turn to her and say something, which usually results in both of them looking at Kyle, smiling, then walking off together giggling. Older women are more reserved and much more discrete, but they still make it easy for me to see they are interested. I can tell they are constructing a fantasy in their imagination of what it would be like to take him home with them or wondering to themselves how large the special treat he is hiding behind the zipper of his pants might be.

Whenever this has happened I have always been proud it is my son they are admiring. I like knowing I have a lot to do with the man he has grown up to be. His looks are also derived from his parents, of which I was obviously at least 50% responsible.

The age difference between my son and me is only 18 years. He has told me a few times he has overheard people who do not know us, having mistaken us as being a couple. We both get a kick out of this when it happens and laugh it off, but deep down it does give me a thrill and sense of pride. It makes me feel good that some people still see me as a young desirable woman who is still able to attract the attention of this handsome young man.

Chapter 2 -- Mom Needs a Foot Massage

On the day that put into motion the events that would eventually lead to my loss of control, I remember it had been a rough day at work and my feet were killing me. When I arrived home I fixed dinner, as usual and as we ate, Kyle told me about his classes at college. I always love when he shares with me how his day has gone.

As we were finishing up, he obviously had noticed my fatigue and asked, "Mom, are you okay?"

"Yea Honey, I'm just tired. My feet hurt and it was a rough day at the office."

I was shocked by his next comment. "Mom, I've got this. Why don't you go take a long hot bath and I will clean up the kitchen."

I almost passed out, here my son was offering to clean the kitchen. I almost told him thanks, but that I could take care of it, when I realized this was something he actually wanted to do for me. I said, "Honey that is so sweet of you. You have no idea how much I appreciate you pitching in and helping me like this."

"Mom, it is the least I can do when you consider all you do for me."

I got up and walked over to him wrapping my arms around his head and gave him a kiss on the top of his head. His thick brown hair was soft and smelled good. "Thanks Honey, I won't be long. Maybe we can watch a show on TV when I get out."

"Sure Mom, sounds good. Take your time, I need to figure out where everything goes and will probably need a little extra time to clean up the glass from the dishes I break."

We both laughed at his comment. I gave him another hug and thanked him for being such a good son before heading down the hall to my bathroom. The idea of a nice long soak in a tub of hot water and bath crystals sounded like the perfect ending to my hectic day.

The hot water felt just as good as I had imagined, and my feet were doing much better now that I was off of them. I am a real estate agent and the competition amongst agents for listings is fierce. I have to look my best every single day if I am to have any reasonable expectation of securing new listings, and after all that is what it is all about.

Since all the women in the office dress very nice and wear heels, in order to compete, that is how I must dress. I have tried to forget my ex-husband, but some of what he said has stuck with me and actually makes sense. One thing he valued in the business world was personal appearance. Whether I like it or not, people do make decisions based on how I look. Keeping myself in shape is good for my health and also contributes to my success. To keep myself looking good I have a regular standing appointment at the salon to have my nails done along with frequent trips to the gym to keep my body toned and looking good. At 38 I have no difficulty turning heads, but it does require some effort to stay on top of everything.