Chapter 1

My husband and I have made a fairly good life for ourselves. We've worked hard, saved as much as we could, and lived within our means. Both of us are professionals, so our combined incomes add up to a tidy sum. After ten years of marriage we managed to buy a house on the beach on the Outer Banks. Whenever we can we drop everything, even if only for a weekend, and go to the beach. It's wonderful.

We had our son Jason when we were still in college. Pure luck, he was born in the middle of the summer, so I didn't even have to miss any classes. I graduated on schedule, with a ready-made family. We've had a good life.

Jason is now a sophomore in college. That should make us seem old, I guess, but I'm only 37 and don't feel old. In fact, I still look and feel pretty darn good, thank you very much.

As always, this summer has been a hodgepodge of trips to the beach for a weekend or a week. Because I've been in the same job almost since college, I've built up quite a lot of vacation time. I always have two weeks more vacation than Dan, my husband. And I don't feel a bit guilty about taking that vacation at the beach, while he's home working his butt off.

I just love the beach. Our house isn't spectacular; just a two bedroom bungalow with a combined dining room-kitchen and a den downstairs. But we have a wonderful enclosed porch that runs around the half of the house facing the ocean. We can open it up when it's nice, or keep the screens closed if the bugs are biting. We sit out with a glass of wine, listen to the waves and watch the stars. Did I mention our house sits right on the beach?

This year Jason stayed at the beach all summer and worked as a lifeguard. Towards the end of the summer Jason invited his college roommate to visit him and spend the last couple weeks of the summer there. Jason would quit his job a little early and they could spend the time together.

I had met Tommy once or twice the previous year. They weren't roommates then, but had become best friends as freshmen and decided to room together as sophomores. Tommy was on the college swim team. That's how he met Jason. We met Tommy when we watched several of the swimming meets. They aren't competitors on the team, since Jason is a sprinter and Tommy swims distance races. They are both very good, as far as I can tell.

It happened that I planned to spend the second two weeks in August at the beach house. I needed to lie in the sun and bake my tension away. Dan couldn't get away, so it was just me and the two boys. We led separate existences there. I lived my little life, bathing and sun-bathing, sipping wine in the evenings, and enjoying the quiet. Jason and Tommy swam and surfed during the day and bar-hopped at night. They spent very little time at the beach house, which was fine with me. I was there to chill out.

My one concession to being a mother during the vacation was that I would make the boys breakfast if they were up when I was making breakfast, and dinner if they were willing to eat the healthy things that I preferred.

One day late in the first week Jason was up early enough that I was willing to make him breakfast before I went for my jog on the beach. I asked him what his plans were for the day (not prying, I just was making polite conversation). He told me that they were going for a little road trip to a beach further north and might not be back till very late.

That was fine with me. Although we were studiously avoiding each other in the interests of having our own space, I still looked forward to having the house to myself for the whole day.

I jogged about five miles, then came home and changed into my swim suit. As I padded down the stairs of our porch and strolled onto the beach, I could see that the trunk of Jason's car was open. The boys must be getting ready to leave, I thought.

I lay on the beach for hours, it seemed. Occasionally when I was too warm I would wade into the water to cool off. But then I'd be back on my towel, letting the sun just melt that tension right out of my body. I felt so relaxed and peaceful.

When the sun got high in the sky and the temperature started to soar, I decided to call it a morning. I went back to the beach house.

We have an outside shower so we can clean off before we come into the house. Ours is a very well enclosed shower, so there is no fear that anyone on the beach or on the street can see you.

The only thing I don't like about the beach is getting sand in your swimsuit. When it gets in the bottom of my bikini, it's so uncomfortable that when I'm through bathing I am eager to get out of my suit.

I took off my suit, and took a thoroughly enjoyable shower under my house. When all the salt and sand were off of me, I wrapped myself in a towel and climbed up to the porch and then into the house. I felt so good.

I threw the towel into the hamper we keep by the door for just that purpose and strolled through the house in the nude, which is my favorite way to be when I'm alone. I decided I had better get dressed, since I really couldn't be sure when the boys would be getting home. I wouldn't want to shock my son, Jason.

He might be most shocked that I have no pubic hair. I keep myself totally shaved. Dan liked it that way nineteen years ago, and I still like the way it feels when he licks me there. And just knowing I'm shaved there still gives me a bit of a thrill. Anyway, this isn't the kind of information a son wants to find out about his mother.

To Jason, I've always been this conservative swimming mom type who tries never to embarrass him by being either too sexy or too dowdy. He wants to believe that of me, and I've let him believe it.

He'll never know that his mother loves sex. He'll never know that his mother has a rich fantasy life. Sometimes she dreams of showing herself off to strange men; even to strange women. He'll never know that his mother masturbates almost every day of her life.

They say that women are at their sexual peak at a certain age - my age! It's one of God's little jokes that most men reach their sexual peak in their teens after which they are on the slippery slope down to no peak at all.

Unfortunately, Dan is like most men. He's content with a once-a-week session of affectionate touching followed by brief but frenzied lovemaking. Just as I'm getting started, Dan is starting to snore.

I love him, and he's a good lover, he just lacks a little of his youthful stamina. My life is good enough over-all that I am more than willing to accept a less than perfect sex life. If I'm not getting enough from Dan, I just finger myself to completion. That's enough for me to be happy. Still, I have my little fantasies. They're what fuel my rich masturbatory life.

I was padding through the house totally naked. Lying on the beach in my bikini (even though it is a conservative motherly bikini), always makes me feel a little sexy. By the time I was out of my suit, out of my shower, and walking to the bedroom, the only thing on my mind was to lie in bed and stick several fingers into my pussy, and just imagine some of the men I see around the beach but this time without their swim suits.

The house was totally quiet. I walked into my bedroom eagerly anticipating a self-inflicted orgasm of the nastiest kind. What I saw stopped me in my tracks with my mouth and my eyes wide open.

Tommy was lying on my bed totally nude using a pair of my panties wrapped around his organ to masturbate with. He was large. I mean he was very large, especially when compared to Dan (which is the only comparison I can make, to be honest). And he seemed to be on the verge of ejaculating!

When I saw him in that position I gasped. That was the first time Tommy was aware of my presence. His eyes opened and his head turned toward me. He knew he had been caught!

Then he saw me. His eyes went to my breasts. His mouth opened in surprise, but I saw that his hand kept rubbing his penis. Then he looked further down to see my pussy. He saw it was shaved! His hand was pistoning his cock, his eyes locked onto my cunt and he began to shoot gobs of come, up into the air, then down onto his chest and stomach.

He was moaning and beating his cock and staring at my pussy. And I didn't know what to do. Was I supposed to be angry? I'm not his mother, and he's an adult anyway. He can do whatever he wants. Maybe he shouldn't be on my bed. Maybe he shouldn't be using my panties. MY PANTIES!? Why was he using my panties to masturbate with?

My God! It finally occurred to me that I was standing in front of this boy totally naked. He was finally over his climax, but his eyes never left my body, and he continued to massage his member. It seemed to be somewhat softer, but even then it was still bigger than my Dan's when fully inflated.

I couldn't help but look at it. It was just so very interesting. Tommy had come to his senses enough to be thoroughly embarrassed. His face became beet red and he grabbed a pillow and put it over his midsection.

I was embarrassed, but mostly I was shocked. I wasn't 'shocked, shocked' like Claude Rains in Casablanca. I was really shocked. Let's put it in perspective.

I thought I was alone in the house. I didn't expect to see anyone, least of all a naked (and might I add gorgeous) man

I had only seen one penis before in my life (in person) not including my son's which doesn't count.

I never saw a man masturbate. Even Dan had never done that in front of me.

I never saw a man come before.

No man except my husband had ever seen me naked.

Although intellectually I knew that a man's cock could be large, the reality of the size, the enormity of presence of a large cock had never hit me before I saw Tommy's monster.

It was the shock most of all that made me stand there and stare as that young man abused himself in front of me. And yes, I suppose my nakedness may well have contributed to the intensity of the boy's orgasm. At least I hope so.

I knew that I was in the middle of a difficult situation. Was I supposed to run out of the room like an immature teenager? I saw no logic in that. I reached into my closet and grabbed a light robe and covered myself.

Unlike all men, and like all women, I knew the only thing to be done was to deal with the situation right now. I could tell Tommy wanted nothing more than to run off to his room and sink under his covers for the rest of his life. I knew I had to try to lighten the blow of this public humiliation. After all, who was hurt?

"Tommy, I'm so sorry for walking in on you. I wasn't sneaking up on you. I didn't even know you were home. I thought that you and Jason went on a road trip."

Tommy stared at the pillow sitting on top of that monster cock. He was too embarrassed to look at me.

He said, "Jason wanted to spend the day with this girl we met last night at a bar. She lives in Duck. I didn't see any reason I should go along. I would have been in the way."

I sat down on the bed beside him. The robe I had grabbed was short, only a few inches down my leg, and very lightweight. I had quickly and carelessly wrapped it around myself, but when I sat on the bed I sensed the robe had gapped a little, as I felt cool air playing on my breasts.

I tried to tighten the robe up, to little effect. Tommy was glancing from his pillow to my robe and back, as if he couldn't make up his mind where his eyes were supposed to go.

"Tommy, isn't there some girl you've met while you were here that you could spend some time with? I know how boys your age are, and when you are vacationing at the beach, you should be blowing off steam in all kinds of ways. "

Tommy obviously was reluctant to talk about it. But he got a resolved look on his face and said "there aren't any girls I've been interested in since I came down."

I looked skeptical, I must say. "Come now, Tommy. I'm pretty sure that you are straight, and you are a young man just like most others, I would suppose. And I don't want to be indelicate, but weren't you just in the throws of a most impressive self inflicted orgasm? You should be with a girl, not by yourself. And this town is full of attractive girls wearing string bikinis and searching for exactly the same thing that you and Jason are searching for. I refuse to believe that you would prefer to be by yourself rather than with one of those lovely young things that run around the beach and make me feel inadequate."

Tommy looked at me, right in the eye, for the first time since he had regained control of his senses. He sat up in the bed. This was a minor disaster, since his juices that had been puddled on his stomach started running down his front. I instinctively grabbed a Kleenex from my nightstand and cleaned it off for him. I don't know why I did it. Just being a mother again, I suppose.

But I got the impression that Tommy looked at the action as a distinctly sexual act. He shuddered as my hand cleaned the lower reaches of his stomach. If he wasn't holding the pillow on himself, I realized that I would be touching his penis. I threw the Kleenex into the trash can by the bed. Tommy seemed to gain resolve by that simple action.

"Mrs. Holden, I'm not interested in those shallow bimbo types, even if Jason is. I need someone with a mind."

I wasn't buying that. "I'm sure lots of these girls have good minds as well as beautiful bodies, Tommy. Don't prejudge a person by the way she looks. You should know that."

I could see that Tommy was still embarrassed and uncomfortable. I decided to let him off of the hook. I stood up, again tightened my robe, and said "I just don't want you to be upset about me catching you here. I'm not angry, so you shouldn't be embarrassed."

Tommy must have decided that he couldn't be more embarrassed than he already was, so he let out all of the stops. "Mrs. Holden, I'm just not interested in other girls when I'm around you."

I felt a white-hot flash of embarrassment myself. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"You are so smart and funny and beautiful and sexy. Ever since I met you I just can't get you off of my mind. When Jason invited me down here and told me it would just be the three of us, I jumped at the chance to come. Other girls can't measure up to you, Mrs. Holden."

This conversation had not gone in the direction I expected when I sat down to talk with Tommy. I thought I was the nice best-friend's mom who could offer some mature words of advice to a boy who had made a bit of a fool of himself in front of me. The conversation was supposed to be about him, not about me.

I said, "That's very flattering, Thomas, but please! I'm sure that you know as well as I do that I'm old enough to be your mother. I'm not falling for your 'suck up to the old lady' routine."

Those words sound rather harsh, but I don't think they came out quite as forcefully as I intended. Tommy sat up in bed so that he was reclining on his elbows. In doing so the pillow fell off of his midsection and I was again confronted with his oversized member.

I felt sure that he had exposed himself to me on purpose. But he seemed oblivious to it, so I didn't think I should draw attention to the fact that he was totally exposed to me. It would be like I was fixated on his penis or afraid of it or something. So I didn't say anything, even though I was fixated on his penis or afraid of it or something.