Peeping Tom
Copyright© 2026 by APerv2
Chapter 3
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - A young man's curiosity piqued by overhearing his mother and aunt's conversation, he begins to peek at his own mother.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa Fiction Incest Mother Son Voyeurism
I snuck into the house well after 11:00. I figured there was a good chance my dad wasn’t home yet and thought for sure that Mom would be in bed. I figured it would be a straight shot up the steps to my room. I just wanted to free Willy, climb into bed, relive the best night of my life, and play with myself. Seemed like a simple plan. I eased the door shut behind me and headed straight for the steps. My hand was buried deep in my pocket; diddling the swollen head of my dick in anticipation of the handjob I was going to give myself if I could just make it to my room. I can’t begin to describe how desperate I was to get upstairs and grab hold of my new best friend and make him the happiest dick ever. (My hand had been in my pocket the whole way home. I was constantly aware of the hardness of my cock; how sensitive it was, how swollen. I kept rubbing my thumb over it, feeling it, in spite of the fact that I was close to cuming in my pants.) I was almost giddy with excitement as I approached the staircase. Had I been a little gayer, I may have burst into song. (Not that there would be anything wrong with that.)
And then I hit a brick wall ... Mom walked out of the kitchen just as I reached the bottom of the steps. I froze and stared at her; part of me scared and part of me simply entranced. (I couldn’t help but picture her with my dick in her mouth.) She looked a little worried, bothered. She looked down at the floor, walking as if she were deep in thought. She looked young and beautiful, but her body language suggested something different. Her shoulders were slouched a little and her thumb was pressed against her chin while two fingers slowly, softly glided over her reddish lips; side to side and then in a complete circle as if she was remembering what she’d had in her mouth just a short time ago. I wanted to believe that her evening rendezvous had been as exciting and awesome for her as it had been for me, but then again, I was well aware of what was going on; she, on the other hand ... from the moment she’d first closed her fingers around my dick, I believe ... had a mystery on her hands.
When she saw me ... she stopped abruptly. Her arms fell quickly to her sides. Her face changed. She looked almost ... embarrassed. She seemed a little surprised to see me. Her characteristics took on more of a cautious nature. Her pretty eyes shifted back and forth, the way people sometimes do when they’re put in an uncomfortable situation. She looked like someone that had a secret and she looked like she might be sizing me up.
Now my dick still had a mind of its own. He began to throb. He was a happy dick, a happy dick for sure ... a bold and brash dick, for the most part, and he had every reason to be; Watching Mom form her words with those beautiful lips, lips that had just been sliding over my dick, had ceased him as firmly as her hand had just a short time ago. I wasn’t even aware that my thumb continued to poke at my dick through my pocket.
“You OK, Honey?” Mom asked a bit suspiciously.
I heard her ... I wanted to answer ... Knew I should ... But the words weren’t there. I just stood there with one hand on the banister and the other in my pocket.
Your dick is hard-Those lips-Her tits-Answer her-Don’t stare-Those eyes-You’re staring-SAY SOMETHING! I begged myself.
I waited too long and Mom’s gaze drifted down; down to my pants; my pocket to be specific. When I saw her head cock to one side a tiny bit and her pretty eyes open a little bit wider and the brow above her left eye creep up well above her eye, I realized she was looking at my pants ... moving, the tiny circles in my pocket, I swallowed hard. Her eyes drifted back to mine. And for a few long seconds ... we just stared at each other. I thought I was caught. I was pretty sure that Mom had known, as soon as she’d closed her fingers around it, that the cock she held at the bathroom window was not my father’s. I thought she’d made the connection. Maybe that’s what she was thinking about as she came out of the kitchen.
“How’s Jimmy?” She asks, guarded ... suspicious. My first thought was that Jimmy had called looking for me. Her brow furrowed a bit when I didn’t answer right away.
I took a deep breath and shook my head “Yes”, like an idiot, answering the first question she’d asked. My mind was playing catch-up.
“He’s ‘Yes’?” She replied, her head cocking a tiny bit more as she studied me.
“Yeah, no ... I mean, yes, he’s OK, he’s good.” I swallowed hard again. It would have been easier to swallow a piece of furniture ... The couch maybe ... with someone sitting on it ... holding a cactus.
“Are you OK, Sweetie?” She asked again. This time I could hear more of a concern. It was do-or-die time. I drew a long, deep breath and pulled my hand out of my pants pocket. I brought it up to my face and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, preparing to jump. I wet my lips and then began to tell her how I’d run into Cathy Bickers on my way home. (Cathy lives three doors down. She’s a few years older than me and hot as shit.) My mother knew I had a crush on her, and I hoped that would explain a lot, especially the lump in the front of my pants.
“Did you stop and talk?”
“Yeah—Well, a little—Kinda.”
“Did you ask her out?” Mom said as a smile began to form.
“Nooooo!” I proclaimed as I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
“Why not? She seems like a nice girl, and she’s really pretty too, huh?”
I saw my chance to escape... “Moooom! God!” I exclaimed. “ ... I’m going to bed?” I told her as I shook my head side to side and put a foot on the first step.
“No kiss?” She asked in a tone that was hard to read; maybe disappointed, maybe something else.
My stomach dropped. I sighed and turned towards her. She smiled a weak but sincere smile and took a step closer to meet me ... she waited. I closed the distance between us and tried to give her a quick peck on the cheek, but she threw her arms around me and drew me in.
I could feel those wonderful breasts, the ones I’d just watched her playing with (the picture still crystal clear in my mind), pushing into my chest. I slipped my arms around her and slid my hands to the small of her back ... And when I did, I felt like I was coming in from a cold, wet winter’s day ... and she was the warm, soft blanket that I could bury myself in. The warmth covered all of me. She smelled great, a hint of honeysuckle in her freshly washed hair. I kissed her on the cheek for what should have been a quick second, but lingered into two or three. I knew she had to be able to feel the huge bulge in my pants against her hip, but oddly enough ... I didn’t really care. I was in a place where nothing seemed to matter, except the way it felt to be there.
She took her hand and swept the hair away from my eyes with her fingertips. She pulled her head back a bit and focused on my eyes. I saw no contempt, no uneasiness; only the love that a mother usually has for a son. I’m almost ashamed (almost) to say that the only desire I had at that particular moment was to hold her tighter and kiss her again. My lips touched her cheek again. This time, I let my lips softly drag across her hot cheek as I took a slow, deep breath; loving the way she smelled. For the short time my lips touched her, I felt a kind of calmness; a sense that everything was as it should be. When I became aware of how tight I was holding her and how heavy my breathing had become ... I pulled away and ran up the steps.
“I love you.” She told me, and those three simple words made me think that everything was OK.
She knew ... She didn’t know ... I didn’t care ... Everything was OK. I stopped midway up the steps and looked back over my shoulder. “I love you too, Mom.” I told her; the words never meaning so much. I ran up the steps.
For a brief moment, as I walked to my room, I thought that if I were to stop this now ... end the madness ... I might be able to get away clean, so-to-speak. I might be able to file this under “Crazy” and be done with it; just an awesome memory that would keep me jerking off for years to come. The thought was merely fleeting at best. The second I closed my bedroom door, my dick reminded me how useless it would be to try and stop now; knowing there was a chance that I might be able to ... fuck my mother.
I sat up in my bed after bringing myself to a furious orgasm in record time. I was spent and didn’t feel like getting up to take a shower. Besides, I didn’t think I could take another encounter with my mom, so I just leaned over the side of my bed and grabbed my dirty shirt off the floor. I mindlessly wiped what cum I saw in the dim light, off my stomach and my chest. I even felt a little running down my cheek, I wiped that away as well as I thought about what might happen the next time I get a chance to climb that ladder. I was a little surprised that I hadn’t even noticed I’d cum on my own face. I wiped my hands, threw the shirt back on the floor and flopped my head back down on the pillow like a 100 lb. bag of sand. I sighed; a loud, exhausted, content sigh. I would have liked to have laid there and made my plans, weighed my options, strategized ... But I drifted off to sleep; the sweet smell of honeysuckle and thoughts of my sweet mom fading away as I closed my eyes.
I slept like a baby through the night, didn’t even open my eyes until 9:30 the next morning. Normally, someone might have woken up from such a sleep wondering if it had all been a dream, had it really happened, but not me. As I changed my underwear, I could plainly see the smeared lipstick on the hard shaft of my dick. (My dick knew little softness these days.) I stared at it; sat on the edge of my bed and gawked. I ran a finger over the reddish marks and shook my head with disbelief. Before I knew it, I closed my fingers around it and started to move my hand up and down like it was just part of my everyday routine. Up in the morning-Jerk off-Brush your teeth-Get some breakfast. It was a matter of seconds before I was flat on my back with my head filled with images of my mother. The way her hair smelled and how soft her skin felt when I’d kissed her good night. I pictured her sucking my dick, the way her pretty lips looked and felt around it, the way she’d hesitated for that quick second ... and then given into her lust and took me into her mouth.
When I was done, I got my shit together as best I could and headed downstairs to take a shower. Clean and refreshed, I made my way to the kitchen for some breakfast. I stopped at the threshold and watched my mother emptying the dishwasher. My dick (which only knew two stages now- Hard and semi-hard) began its little dance. I swear to Christ, that impediment between my legs was becoming more and more like an unruly child every day. It seemed that every time it saw what it wanted, the tantrum began ... And he was relentless. Any like most kids ... a good spanking didn’t seem to help much.
The words she’d blurted out in the bathroom... “I want to fuck” ... burned in my ears. I thought of the note. I saw the words she’d written as clearly as I saw my mother bending over now in the kitchen. “The note!” I thought. “My pants!” I turned towards the stairs, “Jesus Christ!”
I dug the pants I’d been wearing the day before yesterday out of the dirty clothes basket in my room. I fingered the pockets until I found it. I pulled it out, opened it ... and stared at the words.
My mind drifted a little as I pictured my intervention...
Friends and family, all sitting nervously in the living room, their eyes filled with concern; some contempt; my father with that “You little son-of-a-bitch” look on his face, the school counselor, the pastor from our church, a fragile-looking old guy with a gray beard, pen and pad in hand, that could only be the physiatrist, and two strapping guys, (one holding a rope) that looked like professional wrestlers, sitting just off to the side. (Muscle ... In case things went badly.) It would turn into an “angry mob” lynching sure as my dick knows no boundaries.
I took the note. Unwilling to throw it away, I decided to never let it leave my possession. I folded it into a small square, pulled my wallet from my back pocket, and stashed it behind a picture of my mother and then made my way back down stairs.
“Morning, Sweetie.”
She seemed in good spirits.
“Want some eggs?”
“Yeah, sure, that’d be great.”
“Toast?”
“Sure, thanks.”
“Your aunt Jenny is coming over this morning.” Mom announced as she pulled the carton of eggs and the butter out of the fridge. Eggs in one hand, butter in the other, she kicked the fridge door closed with a graceful sweep of her foot. I watched her every move, I watched and listened as she told me,
“Yeah, we’re gonna hang out today, catch up a little ... maybe swim for a bit.” She says, cracking an egg into the frying pan.
I sat back and pictured my mom and aunt frolicking in the pool in their tiny bathing suits; splashing, rubbing up against each other. It didn’t take long before I was imagining them caressing each other’s tits and then doing away with their bathing suits altogether.
“Tommy ... Tommy?” I heard my mother’s voice from a million miles away.
I turned my head to find her standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand. “Earth to Tommy...” she smiled. “Thinking about that little Cathy Bickers again, are you?”
No, ma’am, just picturing you making out with your sister, naked in the pool ... I thought, a half-smile nervously forming at the corner of my mouth.
My attention immediately leaped to the lump in my lap where, (hidden by the table, thank God) my hand had taken up permanent residence. Hoping to explain away anything odd my mother may have noticed ... I shook my head. “Yes”. It would seem that Cathy Bickers was going to be my failsafe excuse for any incoherent moments, spontaneous bulges in my pants, and any otherwise odd behavior for the foreseeable future.
“You should ask her out.” She tells me as she slips two pieces of bread into the toaster and pushes it down.
By the time Mom had delivered my breakfast, I had explained how I could never do that. Cathy was “ ... out of my league.”
She mussed my hair and told me that was nonsense. “You have a lot to offer a girl.” She tells me with a smile I found both beautiful ... and somehow curious. I nearly choked on my eggs.
There was a lot of crazy shit going through my head. She was hard to read. Was this some kind of reference to what she’d held in her hands last night; to what she’d hesitantly wrapped her lips around? I had no way of knowing for sure. I’d have to stow away in the garage and listen in on my mother and Aunt Jenny and see if I could get some insight into this whole crazy thing. It would be nice to hear both sides of the conversation for once.
Things couldn’t have worked out better. Aunt Jenny showed up about noon, sashaying nonchalantly through the garage door. My first thought was that I was glad I wasn’t perched out there on the workbench when she walked through the garage. My second thought ... My aunt’s pretty hot.
She had a short terrycloth robe on that barely went down to the bottom of her ass, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail that sat high on the back of her head, her sunglasses pushed back, resting on the top of her head. My eyes roamed the length of her body and settled on her pretty face. She looked like she had way too much makeup on for a day of swimming in the pool ... but what did I know?
Dad said his hellos and goodbyes. My little sister hugged and kissed our aunt before Dad herded her out to the car and took her to the mall to get a new pair of cleats for soccer. He asked if I wanted to ride along. I declined, of course, and told him (in earshot of my mother and Aunt) that Jimmy and I were going to head on up to Greenbrier Park to do some skating.
I leaned into the living room and asked Mom if she wanted me to take the ladder and put it back in the garage before I left. She blushed and told me not to worry about it. She still had some washing to do on the siding. “ ... some tough stains...” she said. “I’m going to have to spray some Clorox on them and let them sit. I meant to do that last night,” she told me. “ ... but I got preoccupied.” She added in a lower, more lighthearted tone. If she was bothered or even regretful of anything that had happened in the last few days ... it didn’t show.
I wanted to give my mom a little kiss goodbye before I left “for Jimmy’s”, but thought twice. I didn’t want to take the chance that Aunt Jenny might be just a little more insightful than Mom as far as any inappropriate body language or unfitting lingering ... Not to mention this whole boner-in-my-pants thing. Besides ... I was worried that Aunt Jenny might be just brash enough to call me out on anything that seemed... “out of place”.
By noon, I was comfortably (if not nervously) perched on the workbench as Mom slipped off her flip-flops and Aunt Jenny dropped her terry cloth robe and waded into the pool. They were quite the sight. Aunt Jenny had a flattering one-piece on, white with some kind of light-blue flowers that swept from her tummy to over one shoulder. Mom ... Mom had on her bikini. The top looked like it was trying to spit out her tits while the bottom looked as though it was hanging onto the roundness of her ass like a rock climber desperately hangs onto the side of a mountain. I watched, listened, and waited. It was hard hearing as they swam towards the deep end, but as I controlled my heavy breathing, I could hear them whispering.
“So have you confronted him?”
“No.”
“Why not? This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? For him to, you know ... get it together.”
Mom slipped under the water and swam back to the shallow end; back towards me. Aunt Jenny sighed and then followed. Mom swept her wet hair back, wiped the water from her face, and adjusted the top of her bathing suit around her lovely tits. Aunt Jenny surfaced beside her. They stared at each other for a long second. In my world, they would have leaned into each other, parted their wet lips, and fallen into a soft but deep kiss that would have quickly turned into something that would have made my dick explode ... Literally. But that wasn’t the case. They stood there, less than a foot between them, quiet; my mom looking for words ... my aunt waiting to hear them. And then ... At the same time ... Aunt Jenny’s mouth and mine ... dropped open.
“It’s not him.” My mother says; concerned that her sister might freak, yet at the same time, on the verge of giddiness nonetheless.
“What do you mean, it’s not him?”
“I mean, it’s not him.”
“You sure?”
“I think I would know my own husband’s cock, Jenny. I mean, true ... I don’t get to see it all that often, but believe me, the cock that came through that bathroom window last night ... was not his.”
“Holy shit!” was her sister’s response followed by a quick and bewildered, “Well ... Well then, who the hell’s cock was it?” After a second, she added with a big smile, “Was it bigger?”
Mom shrugged and waded towards the steps, shaking her head; not sure she should say it ... knowing how crazy it sounded ... but she said it anyway. “I don’t know who it was.” She told her sister matter-of-factly, unwilling to turn and look her in the eyes right away. Then she smiled and whispered, “It was a pretty nice one.” and turned to head out of the pool. My aunt watched her as she walked up the steps and made her way to her towel. Aunt Jenny followed closely behind.
“Angie?” She called out as she stepped up real close to her sister. “What-da-ya mean you don’t know who it is? Are you...”
My mother cut her off, “Jenny, I know what you’re thinking. Don’t you think I’ve thought the same thing? I’m crazy ... I know.” She told her sister. There was no hint of uncertainty in her voice. “I realize how it sounds. I realize how...” Mom stopped abruptly.
Aunt Jenny put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder and spun her around to pull her into her arms.
“I know it’s insane.” Mom went on as her sister held her. “ ... but it’s ... it’s amazing, Jenny. I don’t have words for it.” She told her sister; shrugging her shoulders again, showing that she didn’t understand it any more than her sister did.
“How ‘bout hot ... or exciting? Do those words work?” Aunt Jenny asked with an understanding smile and a gleam in her eyes.
Mom smiled back, a shaky smile, realizing that her sister was beginning to understand. I watched her shake her head, tiny little shakes, as her smile grew.
Although Mom didn’t really need to, she went on to explain how empty she’d been feeling, how unsatisfied, how lonely she’d been for such a long time. As a matter-of-fact, she went on and on and on. It was really pretty heart-wrenching. “ ... until this.” She finally said.
“But Honey... “ Her sister looked concerned again. “ ... Suppose he’s ... I don’t know ... crazy or something?” she finished.
Her question hit home with me. From outside, I’m sure it would seem like I was. Hell ... from inside, it wasn’t looking so great for me.
“You know,” Aunt Jenny continued, “This has the potential of going really bad.” She stated the obvious. And once again, she was right on the mark. This whole thing had the same potential for bad as sliding down a sandpaper sliding board naked into a kiddie-pool filled with gasoline with a box of matches strapped to each cheek of your ass ... and it would take a long time to put that fire out.
“I know Jenny, I know.” Mom agreed. “I don’t know how to explain it ... But I just have a feeling if he was going to do something to me, something bad ... I think he’d have done it long before now.” She reasoned.
“But he’s peeking in windows.” Aunt Jenny reminded her.
“I think that maybe ... maybe he’s as lonely as I am.” was Mom’s response. (Shaky ground, for sure) “And the way it makes me feel ... The ... the orgasms...” She whispered leaning into her sister, “ ... the way I cum ... Jesus Jenny ... It leaves me so drained I can’t move.”
They sat around the tiny table silently, reflecting for a while, until my aunt asked my mother if she had any suspicions, “Who do you think it could be?” She asked my mom.
“I ... I don’t know ... One of the neighbours? The mailman? Maybe it’s Brian.” She speculated, nodding towards the neighbour’s house. (Brian Weathers lived next door. He and his wife had been over to countless BBQs)
“He would certainly know the lay of the land, as it were.” Aunt Jenny agreed.
“He seems to pay a lot of attention to me when he and Beverly come over.”
“Sweetie...” Her sister said, “ ... All men pay a lot of attention to you at those BBQs.” She informed her.
“Not this much!” Mom giggled.
They sat there for a little bit before Aunt Jenny spit out the words that I so desperately hoped would be left unsaid.
“Did you ever think it might be someone a little closer?” She asked my mother in a very low and suggestive voice, not wanting to be characteristically blunt.
“What-da-ya-mean?”
“Tommy.” She blurted out.
My mother’s eyes narrowed as she looked at her sister, obviously processing the notion. After a long and seemingly painful few seconds, Mom shook her head slowly. “No way...” she whispered slowly, softly. I couldn’t tell if she was dismissing the idea wholeheartedly ... or if she was getting her head around the possibility.
I felt like a first-time skydiver staring out the open door at the vast world a million miles below me; unsure if I was going to end up curled into the fetal position under one of the seats waiting to land or if the instructor was going to push me out. I held my breath.
“I’m his mother.” She finally said, the short sentence both a question and a statement.
Aunt Jenny snickered and placed a loving hand on her sister’s knee. “He’s a boy, Sweetie.” She told her matter-of-factly. “They have dicks, ya know.” She patted my mother’s knee a few times and then rubbed it the way an elderly grandmother might do after passing on words of wisdom. And then she said something to my mother that somehow let me breathe a little easier...
“Ya know, Sweetie, in the big scheme of things ... there’s worse things.” She shook her head knowingly. “ ... More threatening things too.” She added.
“Worse than my son wanting to have sex with me?” she asked as if she couldn’t imagine what could be any worse.
“Much worse.” Aunt Jenny declared. “Much worse.” She said again to make the point.
They sat quiet for a little while. Feeling I’d heard enough and not wanting to take the chance of being caught up on the workbench when my father and sister got home, I slipped down and headed to my room. With Dad and my sister gone and my aunt and mother in the backyard sleuthing, I figured I would go to my room and give this whole thing some more thought. Wouldn’t you know it, it wasn’t long before one thought led to another and I was pulling my dick to the image of my mother lying on the bathroom floor with that big rubber dick sliding in and out of her sweet pussy. The only thing different ... Her sister was sucking on her luscious round tits while she did it.
I have to be honest; where most kids might have figured they were getting too close to the fire ... I seemed to be content with the heat. I should have stopped while I was ahead, closed up shop, as it were, especially considering that Mom was now “Dr. Watson” to Aunt Jenny’s “Sherlock Holmes”. Just doing what I was doing pretty much showed I had all the brightness of a 2-watt bulb. I couldn’t possibly keep this charade up for too much longer, but I didn’t really care, I guess. The thought that I could very well be feeling my mother’s hot wet coochie around my always-hard dick pretty soon seemed to be reason enough to put it all on the line. This was an obsession, full-blown, and like a strung-out junkie standing mid-day on the corner in front of the police station trying to score just one more bag, nothing else much mattered.
“I want to fuck”. I wasn’t really sure exactly how to go about getting my dick into my mother’s. I decided that next time I set out to spy on her, I would leave her a note. I grabbed a pen and a slip of paper and sat at my desk. Tell me what you want me to do, I wrote. I stared at the note for a minute or so before I realized that I was an idiot. Like she doesn’t know your handwriting, I whispered out loud as I shook my head. I quickly typed and printed out the note. My plan was simple: Next chance I got, I’d take in the show (at the glamorous “Bath Room”; where the lighting, acoustical overtones, and the sheer ambiance far overshadowed the limited seating and restricted view) and then slip the note in the crack of the window and hope that the next time I got to watch ... there’s a response waiting for me on the sill like last time (assuming she finds the note and no one else). In hindsight, my plan seems a little risky.
As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait very long for the opportunity to slip into the backyard and park myself outside the bathroom window. That very night, my sister was engrossed in a movie on the living-room couch, and God saw fit to make it rain. Dad was confined to the house (his room actually) at his desk, working on his computer. But it would take more than a little rain to keep me away from the bathroom window.
At 9:00, I heard Mom call out to my father and tell him that she was going to take her shower. The tone in her voice was misleading. It sounded as though she were letting him know so that he could do whatever he needed to do to get outside the bathroom window for their secret get-together, but I knew better; we both knew better. We both knew that it wasn’t my father that had been peeping on her. I made it a point to head to my room so that I would pass my mother on the steps. We looked at each other; again, a hard read. It looked to me like she might be sizing me up, perhaps thinking about what her sister had said to her ... perhaps a guilty conscience on my part ... Who knows?
“Not going over Jimmy’s tonight?” she asked, holding tightly to the rolled-up towel under her arm.
It may have been me, but it seemed she’d asked more like a cop than a wondering mom.
“Nah, it’s raining.”
“Your dad could bring you ... if you really wanted to go, I mean.” I saw her fingers flexing on the covered dildo snuggled in her armpit. Nervousness ... anticipation ... Hard to say.
I got the feeling she was trying to get rid of me ... maybe my father as well. Maybe she was concerned that one of us might wander outside at the wrong time and catch her Peeping Tom. Maybe she just wanted to make sure that I was over Jimmy’s and my dad bringing me there would prove that that was indeed where I really was. That way, if her new friend were to show up at the window ... it would be proof positive, in spite of what her sister had implied, that it wasn’t me ... her son ... who’s dick she’d sucked the other night. I briefly wondered what that knowledge might do to her.
“Naaah, I got about 15 emails I haven’t answered and I haven’t checked my Facebook for a few days. That should keep me pretty busy for a little while.” I told her.