Chapter 3: First Tastes & Toys

The afternoon sun poured through the kitchen blinds, turning the air golden and lazy. Alex and I were alone again, Mark still chasing contracts halfway across the country. I’d spent the morning replaying every second of the kitchen grind, the way his heat had soaked through my panties and stayed there like a brand. My body hadn’t cooled since. When he came downstairs in loose gray shorts and a faded tee, hair still damp from the shower, the look he gave me was raw—half fear, half starving.

We sat at the table with untouched coffee. His hands shook around the mug. “Mom ... I have to tell you everything. It’s been two years. Every pair I could steal, I’d lock myself in my room and lose my mind. Smelling you, tasting the fabric, imagining it was really you wrapped around me. Every single day.” His voice cracked on the last word, eyes glassy.

I reached across and covered his fingers with mine. “I know, baby. I found them. And instead of throwing them away I ... I used them on myself. Left new ones on purpose. Touched myself listening to you through the wall.” Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them—hot, guilty, unstoppable. He stood so fast the chair scraped, pulled me up into his arms. We clung together, hearts hammering against each other, my full breasts crushed to his chest through my thin blouse. The hug turned desperate. Our mouths found each other—soft at first, trembling, then hungry, tongues sliding deep, tasting coffee and salt and years of secret want.

I broke the kiss just enough to whisper against his lips, “Come with me.”

I led him to his own room, the same bed where I’d ruined myself with his dried cum only days ago. My knees hit the carpet. “Mommy wants to taste you now.” The words felt like fire leaving my mouth. I tugged his shorts down. His cock sprang free—thick, flushed, already glistening at the tip. I wrapped my hand around the base, feeling the heat pulse against my palm, then leaned in.