Chapter 1

It happened on a weekend, when I went to visit my son Mark at college. He lived a little less than an hour away, not making it unusual for me to spend the night there, rather than drive home. Sometimes I'd visit for the day and other times to spend an evening, depending on our respective schedules. But regardless what we did or for how long, I was there simply to visit him.

We had a wonderful relationship, and he was never a source of worry or problematic, when he lived at home. And when he moved away, it broke my heart.

My weekend visits were also a way for me to share in his college experience. In a sense, I suppose I was living vicariously through him, albeit more directly. When I was eighteen, I became pregnant with him, my first child, and didn't graduate from college until I was twenty-six years old. During that time, I brought three more children into the world with my husband and that necessitated me spending the lion's share of time caring for them. I took classes when I could here and there, but what I missed out on was the social life of a college student. While my peers were out dancing and going to parties, I was at home changing diapers. Not that I felt somehow cheated out of my rightful due, rather visiting Mark afforded me the opportunity to occasionally sample the lifestyle I never had the chance to partake in.

Sometimes we'd catch a movie, maybe go out to dinner and stop by a nearby bar for some dancing, and other times we'd go someplace quiet and talk, catching up and exchanging stories from school and home. Maybe it was bowling, Frisbee golf, or going for a bike ride. We rarely made definite plans, preferring to go along with wherever the time and mood took us.

It was the weekend before the start of spring break of his sophomore year. His dad and I had plans for Saturday, so I drove up to visit Mark Friday evening with the intent on spending the night and driving home in the morning.

He had just turned 21 years old and, standing at a solid six feet, towered over me by a good seven inches. He was built like his dad: large and strong and with the same jovial demeanor and ever-present smile on his face. All mothers like to say it, and I'm no different, but Mark was a very handsome young man. He had a serious girlfriend named Beth, and I don't think there was a doubt in anyone's mind that they would probably wed one day.

When I did go to visit him, sometimes I stayed in his room in the resident hall, although at times it could be quite noisy there long into the night on the weekends. So there were occasions when I'd get a hotel room, in order to get a solid night of sleep. On this particular weekend, I stayed with Mark in his room.

Something else I should mention is that I have a tendency to move around quite a bit in my sleep. More than a few times, I'd toss and turn so much, that I'd roll right out of bed and onto the floor with a heavy thump, usually bonking my head. At home, my husband and I had our bed against a wall. I'd sleep on the inside, while he slept on the outside, thus preventing me from rolling out. When I stayed with Mark, he did likewise, sleeping next to me in his small dorm room bed. Even though he never said as much, I knew he didn't like it. He was a big fella, after all, and with two of us in his tiny bed, and compound on that my incessant movement during the night, he probably didn't get much sleep.

And so it was on that Friday night, after we had returned to his room from an evening of dancing at the bars, that we crawled into bed and went to sleep. Very early, in the wee hours of the morning, I awoke briefly and rolled over, facing Mark. When I did so, my hand inadvertently landed on his groin. And in that moment of semi-consciousness, I realized he had an erection under his shorts. Of course, in that state of mind, it didn't quite click as to whom it was sleeping next to me. At home in bed with my husband, there had been numerous times over the years that something very similar had happened. I snuggled up closer to Mark, still unaware it was him, and slipped my hand under the waistband of his shorts, wrapping my fingers around him. I remember smiling to myself and began slowly stroking him, still lying there with my eyes closed and my mind half asleep. I felt his chest rise and he began to stir ever so slightly. Sensing he was enjoying the sensations I was giving him, I carefully pushed his shorts down with my hand, and resumed stroking him.

He was long and very rigid, very warm. I suppose in my mind, I thought I was at home with my husband. So when Mark put his hands on mine, still firmly wrapped around his cock, I simply allowed him to do as he wished. With both his hands on mine, he began gently thrusting his hips, driving his cock through my fingers. And after another minute or so, he groaned and I felt his cock swell and begin spurting. After he came, I remember smiling in my state of semi-sleep, and running my hand all over his chest. Then I drifted off into unconsciousness.

I'm not sure how much time had passed, but the next thing I recall, I was lying on my back and felt an intense tingling between my legs. I moaned softly and spread my knees, probably thinking it was a wonderful wet dream. Then I felt something enter me. My mind was still in a haze, and I spread my knees further and reached down between my legs. To my surprise, I felt a hand already there, two fingers massaging deep inside me. It didn't even dawn on me to wonder who was doing this. It felt so good, that I didn't even care. When my orgasm struck, I whimpered and snapped my legs tightly around the hand giving me so much pleasure. And then I drifted once more into sleepy oblivion.

When I awoke, Mark was sleeping soundly next to me. I slowly sat up, wiping the sleep from my eyes, and looked around. The sun was already shining brightly through the window. I looked over at the clock on his desk and, when I saw the time, I jumped out of bed. It was nearly 10am and I was supposed to be home by 11am. Mark sat up, still groggy, and watched me search for my clothes. I still had on my blouse, though it was completely unbuttoned and hanging open. The straps of my bra were also hanging down my shoulders, allowing my breasts to jiggle loosely in the cups.

"Where's my panties?" I asked, frantically searching around on the floor. I was in such a hurry that I pushed aside any pause to consider why I wasn't wearing them. And I didn't care that my own son was watching me nude from the waist down.

He made a tentative movement to look around on the bed, but I found them on the floor and quickly stepped into them.

"Your shorts are over there," he said softly, pointing to the door to his room. "Ok, thanks," I replied, hastily buttoning my blouse, and then walked over to retrieve my shorts. I slipped them up my legs, and then went back to his bed and sat down, pulling on my shoes. Mark lay there leaning on one elbow watching me. When my shoes were on, I stepped over to his mirror and quickly checked my hair. Then I grabbed my purse off his desk and shot for the door. Just as I opened it, I turned around. He was staring at me with a slightly confused smile on his face. I grinned briefly, and then closed his door and walked back over to him. Leaning down, I gave him a quick peck on the forehead, told him I loved him, and that I'd see him in a few days, when he came home for spring break.

It wasn't until I was at last driving home that I had time to take in everything that had happened. It all started to slowly come back to me. At first I wondered about not having my panties on, and that led to trying to recall what had transpired during the night. I was sitting at a red light when suddenly I thought, "Oh God... did he fuck me?!" With no other cars around, I quickly turned into a gas station and jumped out of the car, dashing for the restroom. Inside, I locked the door behind me and unzipped my shorts. My hands were trembling with fear, as I pushed down my panties. I used my fingers to gingerly spread myself open, hoping I wouldn't find any sign that we'd had intercourse during the night; that is, there wouldn't be any semen. I felt around on the outside, and carefully slipped a finger into myself. I sighed in relief, when it came out with nothing clinging to it. Then I quickly dressed and resumed the drive home.

For the next forty-five minutes, I thought about what we had done. It all seemed like a dream, but a very real and vivid one. For my part, if I can plead any kind of defense, I had no idea where I was or what I was doing. Did Mark? That's what I wondered. Did he remove my panties or did I? In that state of mind, I very well could have done it. There'd been more than a few times when my husband and I had sex during the night and, come morning, I didn't recall much of it. My bedtime clothes would be scattered on the floor of our bedroom, but I didn't recall taking them off, though I know I must have. I told myself it would be ok. It wasn't like we had sex. It was merely a momentary lapse in judgment when both of our capacities for rational thought weren't functioning at their fullest. I began to wonder what Mark was thinking about all of this. Was he mad? No, I thought, he couldn't be. He must have known what he was doing, when he had his fingers inside me. And, God, was that an intense orgasm. The more I thought about it, the less it bothered me; the more I came to accept it. And by the time I arrived home, I was actually trying to relive some of it in my mind; trying to recall the intense pleasure I had felt, both in giving and receiving.

The next day, around noon, the phone rang and my husband answered it. I came out of my office to the living room where he sat. He was talking to Mark. I sat on the steps next to the couch and listened, and when my husband saw me, he smiled, as he talked with our son.

"Ok," he said. "No problem. See ya later. Bye."

"That Mark?" I asked.

My husband hung up the phone and nodded. "Said he's gonna stay at school over break. Everyone is going somewhere at his job, so he told his boss he'd stick around to help pick up the slack for the week."

He went back to reading his book, while I sat there wringing my hands.

"That all he said?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness.

He turned a page and nodded. "Yep," he replied.

I slowly stood and walked back to my little office. Inside, I closed the door behind me and looked at the phone on my desk. I walked over and picked it up, quietly dialing Mark's number. Then he answered.

"Hello?"

I gripped the phone with both hands and tried to sound normal.

"Hey..." I said softly.

"Oh, hey. I just talked to dad. He tell ya? I'm gonna stay here for the week, since we're gonna be shorthanded."

My mouth was dry and I went to speak, but only coughed. Mark chuckled. "You ok?" "Yeah," I said. "So... You're just gonna work then?" "Well, it'd be nice to have the extra money," he replied. I wrapped my hand around the cord. "And you're... you're ok, though?" I asked hesitantly. "Yeah, I'm fine." "You're not mad?" "Why would I be mad?" he said with a light laugh. I closed my eyes and sighed in relief. "Alright," I said. "I guess I'll talk to you later. Bye. I love you." "I love you, too... and hey, I'm not mad... about anything." My heart nearly stopped, when he said that. "O-ok," I stuttered and hung up.

I pushed the phone across my desk and sat down heavily in my chair, not knowing what to think of that conversation.

Tuesday morning, I was online chatting with a friend via instant messenger. No sooner had he left, than Mark came on. I don't know why, but my heart suddenly started racing. Just as I was sending him a message, one from him popped up on my screen.

"Hey what's up?"

"Was just chatting with a fella. How're you?"

"Fine," he replied.

And then I froze. I didn't know what to say. Even though we weren't exactly face-to-face, it did feel a bit awkward. I tried to think of something to say.

"And how is work?"

"Just fine," he said.

"Well, that's good."

I can't say for sure, but he seemed to be having the same sense of unease, as myself. Typically, when we talked online together, it was fast-paced. The only time it slowed down was when something distracted us on our respective side of the keyboard. But it was becoming obvious that something was different now.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked.

"Oh, no one really. Just a guy I met online a few months ago."

"Having net sex with him? lol"

I chuckled. The truth is, yeah, I sort of wanted to. He lives on the other side of the country, but I'm certainly not the type to go fooling around behind my husband's back. God, no! I suppose I looked at it as merely a bit of harmless fun. But to be honest, yeah, sometimes I get bored, like anyone else, and, well, I masturbate just to pass the time.

"That would be none of your business, pal!" I replied, but perhaps as an unconscious tease, added, "And so what, if I was? Jealous or something? :P"

There was a brief pause, and then Mark replied, "I don't know! Should I be?? :D"

I smirked. That was a good question. In a way, yes, I wanted him to be a little jealous.

"He just wanted to see what I was wearing, that's all. No biggie."

There was a pause, and then Mark replied, "You showed him on your webcam?"

"Yeah, of course. How else would he see me?"

Mark paused, and started typing.

"What did you show him? Just curious."

My heart began racing again and I replied, "Wanna see?"

"Sure"

I turned my webcam on and, with a shaking hand, reached up and angled the camera atop my monitor downward. Mark could now see me. I glanced up at the black eye of the camera and tried to smile, giving him a quick wave.

"Hi there!" he typed.

I chuckled. "Hi there, back at ya, mister!"

I took a deep breath and waited. Then he began typing.

"That's it?" he asked. "You just showed him this?"

I fidgeted in my chair, replying, "Well... yeah, sorta."

"Sorta?"

"I sorta showed him more. It was just some harmless fun, is all. Nothing major."

"Ohhhhh ok. If you say so!!" he said.

Now my hands were visibly shaking, making it difficult to type.

"Um... wanna see?" I asked. But then I paused, just before hitting the send button. This was it. I'd be making a step in that certain direction. And what if I was wrong about all of this? What if Mark wanted to forget what happened the previous weekend? Just as important, and perhaps more so, was why couldn't I get it out of my head? Why did I keep dwelling on it, replaying it in my mind? Before I could put too much thought into it, I clicked on the send button.

I waited for what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few seconds.

"sure" came his terse reply.

I swallowed and took a deep breath, pushing my chair back from the desk. I reached up and angled the camera more to take in a shot of my entire torso. I smiled nervously at the black eye staring back at me, but quickly looked away. It wasn't just a random viewer watching me. It was my son. That black lens was his eyes looking directly at me; looking at my body.

Still nervously shaking, my hands went to the hem of my sweatshirt and pulled it over my head in one quick movement. I dropped it to the side on the floor and sat back in my chair, placing my hands in my lap, sitting there in my white bra facing the monitor, trying to avoid eye contact with the camera. My chest rose sharply as I breathed, knowing Mark was taking me in. After about a minute of silence, he began typing again.

"That seems harmless."

I grinned and leaned forward to the keyboard.

"Told ya!" I replied, and then quickly sat back.

"You shown other guys this?" he asked.

I leaned forward again. "Um... Yeah, a few."

"This is all you show them?"

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, as I typed an answer.

"No," I said, typing slowly. "Sometimes I show them more. Not always, but sometimes. Depends on my mood."

Another brief pause, and Mark asked what else I showed them. This time, I didn't hesitate. I knew if I did, I wouldn't follow through on it. I pushed away from the desk and, without looking at the camera, reached back behind me and unclasped my bra, letting it fall from my shoulders. I pulled it off my arms and dropped it to the floor with my shirt. Then I sat back, placing my hands on the arms of the chair, staring back at the monitor. Mark didn't say anything for a long time. I built up my courage, and then slowly brought one hand up to my breast and began caressing it. The flickering ember that had been lit earlier during my previous conversation with my friend was now being rekindled. I made myself forget who it was watching me and took my other hand and placed it at the top of my shorts. Then I slowly pushed it under the waistband. When my fingers made contact with my vagina, my jaw dropped slightly and I sighed, closing my eyes. I didn't care who it was now on the other side of the keyboard.

I began gently massaging my clit, while simultaneously caressing my erect nipple. And very soon, I let my head fall back and lost myself in the brief moment of self-pleasure.

When I felt the first twinge of an orgasm approaching, I suddenly remembered Mark. I quickly lifted my head to see if he had sent me a message. Nothing new was on the screen and I feared he might have left. I leaned forward and began typing.

"Still there?" I asked.

I waited for a reply, and when it finally arrived, I sighed in relief.

"Yes," he said.

I pushed one hand back down my shorts and very awkwardly typed with the other.

"You hard?" I asked.

"Yes," came a quick reply.

"Want me to take off my shorts?"

There was a pause, and then he said yes. I pushed my chair back and stood up. Were it any other guy, I would have taken my time doing this in order to be a tease, but instead I hurriedly pushed them down my legs, panties included. When they were pooled around my ankles, I stepped out of them and kicked them off to the side. Then I sat down in my chair, spreading my legs and pushing my ass forward a bit so he could see better.

Now my body had gone into autopilot. It wasn't Mark, my son, any longer, but simply another guy on the Internet. I leaned forward to the keyboard, asking what he thought. "Nice," he replied, followed up rapidly with, "Very sexy". A devilish grin grew across my face and I leaned back, pushing my knees apart and lewdly playing with my vagina, working my way back to where my orgasm had left off.

After a few minutes, just on the brink of erupting, I shot back to the keyboard and asked if he was still hard. He said he was and I asked how hard? "VERY" he replied. I glanced up at the camera and smiled, then asked if he was going to cum soon. "YES" he said. "Me too," I typed. Then I leaned back and brought myself to orgasm, writhing in my chair, groaning loudly and holding my legs up high and far apart. And as it slowly ebbed, I did as I always had when I performed this same act with someone online, and licked my fingers clean, occasionally pausing to gently pinch my nipples and pull outward on them.

When I had finally caught my breath, I smiled up at the camera and winked, wiping a hand over my brow. I pulled my chair back to the keyboard and asked if he had cum.

"hell yes!!!" came his speedy reply.

I laughed, typing back, "That was fun!"

He started typing, but then I realized it was going to become awkward again, if I didn't do something.

"I better go get cleaned up," I said. "You gonna be around tomorrow?"

"Fuck I came hard!!!" he said in his message. Then he quickly replied to mine, asking what time I would be online the next day. I wrote back saying probably the same time, and he said that would work for him, too.

"See ya then!" I said, waving to the camera.

"Bye!"

Then I blew him a kiss and logged out.

God, I couldn't believe I'd just masturbated with my son. Then I chuckled and shook my head, thinking it wasn't exactly the first time for that. But I also felt a sense of relief. It wasn't so bad, what we did. It wasn't as though we didn't know what we were doing this time. In fact, in a way, it almost made me feel a little closer to him, as though our relationship had expanded. Not so much changed, as it was more modified. I almost felt elated.

The next morning, I rushed around the bedroom, trying to find something a bit sexier to wear for him. I found a lacey push-up bra and a pair of pink thongs with only a tiny triangular patch of fabric covering my vagina. Over this I wore my usual shorts and t-shirt, and then headed down to my office in the house.

I had my camera on, while I waited for him, and then he arrived. My heart began racing and my knees wobbled. We chatted briefly, but we both knew why we were there. I asked if he was ready to have fun again, to which he replied with an enthusiastic "Hell yes!!" This time, however, I was more deliberate in removing my clothing. I'd take off my shirt and let the image of my breasts, the nipples just poking up over the edge of the bra, get him excited. Then I had him beg me to remove it, as well as my shorts and panties. To be honest, I was just as eager to get naked as he was for me to do so. And when I was completely nude in my chair, we chatted for a few minutes.

"Can you lick your nipples?" he asked.

I chuckled and looked up at the camera atop my monitor, rolling my eyes. He laughed, but then I sat back and scooped up one of my breasts and tried to lean down and lick it. I'm only a decent B cup, so there isn't much leeway for such carnal acrobatics as that, but I managed to get close enough.

"That's REALLY sexy!!" he exclaimed happily.

I laughed, replying, "Well, either my tongue isn't long enough or my boobs aren't quite big enough for that!"

"You have really cute boobs!" he said.

I smirked, saying, "Oh? They're just 'cute'? Gee, thanks. :P" Then I glanced up at the camera and stuck out my tongue. Mark laughed once again and said he thought they were sexy. "That's better," I typed with a chuckle.

I let one hand drop between my legs, and then asked if he was getting hard.

"Been hard for a while!!" he said.

"Mmm," I replied. "Wish I could see that! ;)"

"Me, too."

Just then, my stomach fluttered. The words simply came out on their own, but now that I thought about it, I really wasn't opposed to the idea. My fingers slipped across my wet clit, sending a gentle spark through my body. I closed my eyes and sighed. When I opened them, Mark had sent me a message.

"Is your pussy wet?"

I looked up at the camera and nodded, smiling dreamily. Then I brought my hand to my mouth and licked my fingers.

"How's it taste?" he asked.

"Mmm," I replied. "Delicious!"

"You like tasting yourself?"

Once more, I looked at the camera and grinned, licking my fingers seductively for him.

And as I continued to play with myself, his next message nearly made me erupt into an orgasm.

"I'd love to taste you," he said.

I slumped back in my chair and groaned loudly, spreading my legs wide. I was getting closer to orgasm and, in my delirium, asked if he would have rather had me suck him off that night, instead of using my hand?

"YESSS!!!!" he exclaimed.

Teetering on the brink of orgasm and barely capable of typing, I hastily replied, "I'd love to feel you cum in my mouth." Then, just before it struck home, I added, "I'd swallow for you."

That's when my orgasm took over. I managed to have a moment of clarity in thought, and quickly reached for my mouse, clicking on the sound, allowing Mark to hear me in the throws of passion, as well as watch me.

I moaned loudly, humping against both my hands, one fingering myself deeply while the other stimulated my clit.

"Oh fuck," I cried. "... oh fuck, I'm cumming!"