Chapter 1

We rushed back to the SUV and slammed the doors behind us. We got away. My heart is pounding so hard, I feel like it will pound through my chest. What is more disturbing, is that my blood is pumping so hard, I can actually feel it pulsing through my tender, over stimulated pussy. My pussy is beating in time with my heart. I guess throbbing is a more accurate description.

For some reason, the Edgar Allen Poe story, “A Telltale Heart” pops into my head. I think of my pussy “beating”, like the telltale heart, which represented the main character’s guilt. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t stop hearing the beating of that heart. Well, THAT is how I was feeling right now. My pussy is beating, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, so strongly and so distractingly, that I can’t think of anything else. It is like it wants me to NEVER forget, what I did in the dressing room at Victoria’s Secret, and what my son and I did in the bathroom right after. I feel like everyone around can hear my pussy throbbing and will follow the sound, to find the nasty whore, who did such dirty things.

My son looks over and sees the guilty look on my face and laughs out loud. It is a full bodied laugh, that is infectious. It cuts right through my guilt and feeling of dread, that I will be hunted down and arrested. I reach over and swat him on the arm and tell him, “Stop it ... don’t make fun of me...” He just laughs harder and I can’t stop myself. I start laughing with him.

I realize that I have never in my life, laughed this hard and enjoyed a moment in time so fully. In the last hour, I modeled lingerie for my son, had him shame me in front of the sales girl at Victoria’s Secret, masturbated until I came loudly in the dressing room, and then was fucked to a screaming orgasm by my son, in a mall bathroom. And I realize, that THIS is the most exciting thing I have ever done in my life. I also realize that I am feeling something I will easily become addicted to.

My son, surprises me yet again by realizing what I am thinking, and says, “You love the rush, don’t you? That thrill you are feeling, making your whole body feel electric. You like it I can see. You want more of it ... MUCH more of it ... Don’t you?”

“God YES,” I blurt out before I can gate my thoughts. And God help me, I knew that I did need this, and a lot more of this.

“You want to touch your pussy and make yourself cum again, thinking of what we did. Don’t you?” he asked me.

“Yes...,” I whisper.

“Go ahead. You were a good girl and good girls get treats. Lift your skirt and spread your legs for me. Show me that naughty wet pussy. Show me how excited you are,” he tells me.

I do as he tells me, and I trace my finger up and down my swollen, wet, sensitive pussy lips. I push slightly and spread my lips open as I rub up and down. I trace around my fully exposed clit. I feel electric shocks run all through my body. I feel like my body is short circuiting. I look to my son. Silently asking for permission with my eyes, to go further. He nods.

I dip my finger deeper into me. I feel how tight and swollen my pussy is after our hard fast fucking in the family bathroom. I push in a second finger. I curl my fingers and rub my G-spot as my thumb presses and rubs slightly on my sensitive clit. I gasp and moan. I am sure I can’t last long. Even after cumming twice in the last hour, I feel another explosive climax building. I rub harder. I finger faster. I feel myself soooo close. I realize that I am about to cum without his permission, so I plead with him desperately, “Sssssir, may I cum? PLEASE let me cum...”

He smiles at me and says, “Of course you can cum, mom. Good girls get treats. Cum now ... take your treat. Know that only your son can make you feel like this. Cum NOW.”

And my GOD, did I cum. I feel my whole body spasm as my pussy CLENCHS around my fingers and I scream out, “GODDDDDDDDD YESSSSS.” I cum so hard that I actually shoot juices from my pussy, like a man shoos cum from his cock. I had maybe a second to be amazed by this sight, when I collapse back against the seat of the SUV.

I hear clapping. My son is looking at me and he is clapping. That FUCKER ... If I was not so completely spent, I would reach over and SLAP him on the arm again. Instead I look over and stick my tongue out at him. He laughs and says, “I am glad your tongue still works after THAT. I am going to make use of that when we get home.