Chapter 1

I sit in the front pew of our village church alongside my handsome son, Jack. My husband and his father; the vicar, was starting his sermon. I have to work hard to look attentive, but my mind is really elsewhere, thinking of later when the vicar would be at the Sunday School and I would be spread-eagled on my son’s bed, mouthing obscene encouragement for him to again fuck his mother to paradise and back.

My outer demeanour hopefully does not betray my unchurch-like thoughts to the rest of the sparse congregation. My conventional smart fitted pencil skirted suit, blouse and high heels covered the fact that I was naked under it save for tan hold-up stockings. My nipples – fortunately under my jacket - are like the stops on the church organ, my shaved naked pussy and labia are soaked, anticipating the rogering that I know Jack is capable of. I am a complete three-hole slut for my son and I wallow in the pleasure that it brings me. I am his, to use in any orifice, at anytime, anywhere, if and when the situation allows.

How did a conservative vicar’s wife living a quiet life in an English village become such a hedonist, what my neighbours would consider an absolutely debauched woman. I am 39 years old – I was a naïve, virgin, child bride – marrying at 18 and having Jack the following year. My husband, Harry is 10 years my senior and was the curate at the church where my father was vicar. His perception of lust was that it was sinful, and for years I; thanks to my own upbringing, was totally ignorant of the pleasure that carnal activities could bring. I totally agreed with him. When Harry and I had made love, it was totally devoid of any lust or passion. Consequently, we drifted apart, me moving into my own bedroom. Harry threw all his energy into his calling; he was very good at it. I kept up the appearance – albeit superficial - of the dutiful wife supporting him. I do love and respect him, but I now know that I was never in love with him.

Two years ago, Jack turned 16 and we bought him his own computer. Once he had got into using it, I asked him to teach me some basics as I was considering getting a tablet or laptop for myself. Soon I was quite proficient, I apparently had a knack for technology. I was able to navigate around the various apps and files with ease. Harry would not let Jack have the internet router password, but resourceful Jack soon managed to acquire it.

Jack was a member of the local Air Cadet Force, his ambition was to be a pilot. One evening he was at the cadets, I was using his computer to write the back-log of letters that I had to deal with; most of my friends were not computer literate. I was about to close the computer down when I noticed a folder with my little used middle name, Eleanor on it. My curiosity piqued, I opened it. I found links to web sites that appeared to contain erotic stories. What shocked me the most was the bulk of the links were to stories that were about incest, particularly, incest between mother and son.

I shut the computer down and went to my bedroom, sat at my dressing table trying to digest what I had seen. I was aware that boys could be attracted to, even obsessed with their mothers, but Jack had never given me any inkling that he was even attracted to me. If he was, he had hidden it maturely well, or perhaps I had not been receptive. I decided not to act on my new awareness, but to keep a close eye on him. I had never considered myself a beauty and the thought of my rugged handsome rugby player Jack fancying me had given my confidence a boost. I am 5’ 6” tall and my figure a mature, rounded 34C 28 36. I am a redhead with my curly hair kept short. What Jack was seeing in me compared to some of the girls at his college, I was at a loss to fathom. My perception of him was being caused to change, he had always been my baby boy, but now he was a hell of a good looking young man, almost an adult. I went to bed that night and had thoughts and dreams that a vicar’s wife and mother should not have.

I found myself taking more care with my appearance. Any new clothes I bought or made myself were a little tighter and taking in and shortening one or two of my more attractive dresses to show off my figure better. Harry, bless him was oblivious. Jack on the other hand did notice, I caught him sneaking glances, particularly at my rear. I was now convinced he was attracted to me and the attention - devoid of his father - pleased me no end.

I decided to get my own laptop and as soon as I could, I copied the ‘Eleanor’ folder across. I then began reading the stories Jack had filed. In space of a couple of weeks, my naivety had evaporated, my vocabulary vastly increased. Every night I lay naked – another new experience that was soon to become the norm - in my bed reading more and more of the salacious stories, reading out loud the new words so that they would roll off the tongue easily. Just saying the naughty words gave me perverse buzz. I read about being sans panties, cock sucking, cunt licking, ass fucking, submission and collaring, the latter sounds interesting. I was amazed that my vagina, no cunt or twat was always soaked, shocked that my clit had become so sensitive, up till now I had hardly been aware of it. Within the first week of nocturnal reading, I could not resist masturbating and orgasmed for the first time in my life. The intensity of the pleasure I felt, ensured that it would not be the last time.

Over the following days and weeks, the stories; some of them read two or three times, slowly induced in me a fixation with my son. This taboo way I felt was counter to all that I had been conditioned to believe. It was wicked; perhaps the attraction, but I yearned to be his woman, his lover. As a lot of the women in the stories, I knew I would be prepared to do anything for him, no matter how debase. The perverse wickedness of it exciting me even more. I started finding opportunities to expose myself to Jack. I bought new sexier underwear and having read that most of the boys in the stories enjoyed their women in hose, I bought stockings, suspenders and hold ups I actually found that I much preferred them to tights, especially without nickers. Jack noticed the changes in my appearance and my behaviour, seeing bare flesh on my upper thighs and started to get touchy-feely. Without any resistance from me, started putting his arm around me, holding my hand and patting and holding my rear. The increasing attention accelerating me down the slippery slope to capitulation.

One evening Harry had to attend some meeting or other with the Bishop, having to stay over at his house. With Jack and I being alone at home, I was wearing only a short terrycloth robe – normally worn only in my bedroom - having come from the shower. My intention had been to take my flashing to a higher level, but Jack was especially frisky. He put his hand on my bum and I wiggled my hips, grinning at him. “You like my bum, don’t you?” I asked. “What would you like to do with it?”

With any hesitation he responded. “I think every inch of your body is gorgeous, but especially that fabulous arse.” Pulling me to him with both hands on my arse, he went on “I want to worship it any way I can.”

I knew the time had come, “Jack, I found the ‘Eleanor’ folder.” The smile he gave me told me I was meant to find it. “You devious sod! You took a massive risk, what if it had backfired on you.”

“It didn’t, did it?” he answered and went on, “I wanted to shock the butterfly I know you to be out of the self-imposed chrysalis you had wrapped yourself in. It has taken some time, but over the days and weeks, I noticed the subtle changes in your appearance, not enough to start a hare running, but what is important, is how you feel about yourself and us. I love you mother and I want you. I have lusted after you since puberty.”

I put my arms around his neck and looked deep into his shining blue eyes. “Jack my darling son, I have known this moment would come. I have thought long and hard about making this commitment because it is so wrong if not downright illegal, but with you, I know my butterfly will spread its wings. I love you, not just as my son, but as a woman loves her man. We are about to cross a threshold from which we cannot return. Nobody; least of all your Dad, must know how our relationship is to change. When we are not alone or in public, we will present ourselves as dutiful wife and son. When we are alone like this, I am your woman and anything, I mean anything goes. The more wicked and filthy it is, the more I will probably enjoy it.” I went on, “Are you OK with that?”

His answer was to take me in his arms and kiss me. I had never been kissed in that fashion before. His tongue forced its way past my lips although not much force was required, I welcomed the intrusion. Our tongues duelled backwards and forwards as our passion intensified, our noses flared to allow us to pant. As we broke the kiss I murmured, still panting, “I’ll take that as a yes” and then said, “now take me to your bed and make a wicked, naughty mother out of me.”