As I drove my ratty old Toyota onto the driveway it felt really good to be home.

I’d had to attend a bad RTA that afternoon: a head-on between a car and a big rig. The wife, who was in the passenger seat of the car, had been declared dead at the scene, and the little boy in the back had been taken off in an ambulance and it didn’t look good.

The father had gotten away with a few cuts and bruises but was in a terrible state emotionally when I got there. Initially, I felt sorry for him, until I found the half bottle of bourbon in the driver’s footwell and caught a whiff of his breath that is: fucker was three times over the limit.

I was in the changing room back at the station when I called the hospital for an update on the boy: he hadn’t made it. I don’t really know why I took it so badly, it’s nothing I hadn’t seen before, more or less. Judith, our sergeant, found me crying in there and told me to go home; who knew she had a heart? Mind you it was only an hour to the end of my shift.

As I got out of the car I noticed the curtains in our bedroom twitch, but I didn’t really think anything of it at the time. I opened the front door and saw Harry coming downstairs, and he looked surprised to see me; it wasn’t often that I got home before I was due.

“You’re home early.”

“Bad day at the office. Judith said I could go.”

“Fuck, did you bring a unicorn with you?” It wasn’t a great joke and he had the decency to look embarrassed, especially when he saw my face.

I needed a hug and I opened my arms to him. He came in for it but, when he hugged me back, he did what I’ve always thought of as an ‘uncle hug’ on me. Maybe it’s just me, but if I let my uncle cuddle me normally he would push his crotch hard against me, and I do mean hard!. To avoid it I’d hug him with my ass stuck right out. Anyway, Harry did that to me, which was just plain fucking weird. Annoyed, I pushed him away and went upstairs.

As I passed Chad’s room I saw him doing his homework at his desk. I went in and cuddled him around the shoulders from behind.

“Hey baby, how ya doin’?” I said to him and kissed the top of his head. He mumbled something and wriggled to get away from me, which was his teenage way of letting me know how much he loved me!

I let him go and went to our room to get changed, despairing of my family’s excessive displays of affection.

When I went in I noticed a glow from Harry’s laptop and realized that he hadn’t quite closed the lid properly. I went over to push it down but, at the last moment, for some reason I don’t think I could have explained, I opened it instead.

There on the screen was a paused video of a young girl masturbating. Fucking men, I thought, typical! It was a mainstream site that I recognized, but she did look a bit young, so I looked in the search history:

Jailbait

Schoolgirl

Young

Small tits

Tiny

Fucking bastard, I thought. I never had any idea that he fantasized about little girls. That’s why the cunt wouldn’t hug me properly; didn’t want me to know he had a hard-on! I was seething now, the bastard had been wanking to little girls in the room next to where our son was studying. I needed to know how far he’d had taken this.

I’d attended a couple of raids at pedo’s properties and, at the last one, Det. Archer had been in a talkative mood. During the search he was describing what he was doing, showing off basically: he told me that you need to look sideways at things as well as the obvious. So look under drawers as well as in them, and anything not actually solid might have something inside, like toys and the foam in furnishings. Also never stop after the first few finds he said, the sneaky bastards always have loads of stashes. His other hint was to start in the bedroom; nobody wants to go out to the garage when they fancy a wank.

I followed his advice but found nothing until I felt underneath Harry’s sock drawer: there was something taped under it, that felt like paper. I was actually expecting a USB stick or something like that, but I pulled it off anyway.

It was a brown envelope and it contained printed digital images of girls, young girls. The first few were topless images, taken with a phone by the look of the format, and, judging by the size of their breasts, they were well underage, maybe only fourteen or fifteen years old.

I couldn’t believe it, and I was getting more and more pissed. The next few were crotch shots of girls in their panties, some of them touching themselves, and then the panties came off. I forced myself to finish looking through them and, in the last two pictures, the girl was sitting with her knees apart and her finger was inserted into her vagina up to the second knuckle.

I felt like rushing downstairs and beating him to death with my nightstick, but I crushed my anger down into the pit of my stomach until I had control. I packed some of his underwear and shirts into his bag and dumped it by the front door, and then went to find the fucker.

He was in the kitchen, so I went in and closed the door behind me. He looked at me a bit funny. I had the envelope behind my back at that point, I wanted to give the bastard the chance to hang himself.

“What’s going on Em?”

“Having a nice time beating off in our room were you?” He had the decency to look a bit embarrassed.

“So what Emma? You’re not telling me you never do it, are you?”

“Not to pictures of little girls I don’t!”

“Most of those, so-called little girls, are about twenty-five for fucks sake. What are you so worked up about?”

I said nothing more as I took the pictures out of the envelope and spread them out on the table. He glanced at them and then looked back at me with a shocked expression.

“Look at them,” I told him.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why? What have these got to do with me?”

“Like you don’t know. Look at them!” He looked at the photos again.

“Am I supposed to recognize these girls or something?” he said, and there was desperation in his tone. I grabbed him by the collar with both hands and pulled him to his feet. I looked at his crotch and I could see he was hard. I grabbed his junk and squeezed it, hard. He wasn’t fully erect but he was getting there.

“You miserable piece of shit!” I bellowed into his face as I crushed his balls in my hand.

I grabbed his arm, bent it behind his back, and marched him to the front door. I opened it with my other hand and then threw him out. He stumbled on the step and went flying onto the path. I threw the bag at him.

“Never come back you fucking pervert or I’ll beat you to death,” I shouted at him and slammed the door shut.

Chad wanted to know what had happened of course, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth.

“Your Dad’s been sleeping around and I kicked him out,” I said, instead. Chad looked a bit pissed but said nothing.

I’d really loved that fucking bastard and for the next two nights I cried myself to sleep. On the third night, I was sobbing quietly in bed, apparently not quietly enough though: Chad poked his head around my door.

“Are you alright Mom?”

“Not really, no.” I gestured for him to come over. He sat down by me and put his arm around my shoulder. I put my head on his chest and started bawling my eyes out. I felt him stroking my hair softly and heard him whispering quietly to me, but I couldn’t really hear him over the sound of my own crying.

When I felt him trembling faintly I realized he was only in some thin pajamas and I pulled the covers up over his legs, then I put my head back on his chest.

Then I was on a beach. Harry and a much younger Chad were kneeling in front of me building a sandcastle. I came up behind Harry and cuddled him, and I could feel the heat of his body against my breasts and my pussy and I began to get turned on. Then the scene changed and I was behind him in bed; the thought that we could have sex was a nice one and my pussy was hungry for him. Then, suddenly, the events of last night came crashing back and I knew that none of that would ever happen again.

But I could still feel the heat of a body against me. Hoping I was wrong I opened my eyes and saw the back of Chad’s head; we must have fallen asleep together. Then came the realization of where my right hand was, it was cupping Chad’s genitals over his pajamas and his cock was more or less erect! Fuck, I thought, and gently took my hand away. He still seemed to be asleep so I rolled away from him and looked at the bedside clock; we were already running a bit late. I stretched and yawned theatrically.

“Come on Chad. It’s time we were up.” He turned over and smiled at me.

“Morning Mom. Did you sleep OK?” He started to turn the covers down then frowned and stopped.

“Yes, I did. Thanks for being so sweet last night. I really needed that.” I leaned forward and kissed him on the end of his nose then got up, hoping to give him time for his morning wood to go down without embarrassing him.

Nothing happened for two or three weeks after that, but whenever something triggered it, like seeing a bulge in his trousers or him bending over, I would get flashbacks of how his little penis felt in my hand. Although, thinking back on it, ‘little’ wasn’t the right word, even though it wasn’t fully erect, it was still a nice size.

Harry kept calling me and, when I rejected his calls, he left long weepy, rambling messages protesting his innocence. I saw no reason to wait and I filed for divorce.

One of my friends was married to one of Harry’s and I heard through them that he wasn’t doing well, he was in a scabby little apartment and was apparently drinking a lot. Fuck him, I thought, he’s lucky not to be in prison.

One morning I wanted to have a shower but the bathroom door was shut. I couldn’t hear anything from inside so I tried the door. It opened in time for me to see Chad in the shower, just turning it on.

His back was to me and I got a perfect view of his naked ass. It was the spitting image of Harry’s. The same cute dimples but they somehow managed to be firm and quite rounded at the same time. My pussy clenched at the sight, and I tried to convince myself that it was the memory of Harry’s butt that caused it, not Chad’s.

I’d hesitated too long and Chad turned around. Great now I had an image of his half-hard cock to go with the feel of it. And with those firm butt cheeks, I could now ... I tried to stop the thought before it formed, but it was like when someone tells you not to think of an elephant. Now I had the clear mental image of Chad fucking my pussy while I had a handful of that cute ass in each hand. As hard as I tried I couldn’t get the image out of my head, and my pussy just wouldn’t stop throbbing for ages.

It was a long time since I’d had sex and it was starting to have an effect on me. I don’t really like masturbating all that much, it just all seems to get a bit clinical. Finding some lube or cream in case you get sore, then you need tissues to wipe the mess up, oh, and you have to put a towel down so that you don’t leak all over the bed. Do I need a toy, are the batteries OK? In the end, I mostly find it easier just to get a candy bar.

The following day was another bad one at work and I think Chad just picked up on my mood. We were sitting on the sofa together, watching some rubbish comedy program on TV, while I drank a large glass of red wine.

He slid along the sofa and put his arm around me. It was actually really nice and I rested my head on his shoulder and felt some of the day’s tension flow out of me. With my head where it was, I couldn’t help but notice that he had a noticeable bulge in his trousers. There was nothing in the TV program to cause him to get hard and I wondered what he might be thinking about.

After a while, he took my hand in his and squeezed it gently.

“This is nice isn’t it Mom? Just you and me?” When he released my hand it landed right on top of his cock. The head nestled in my palm and my fingers lay along the shaft. I found myself licking my lips and wondered, not for the first time, why it is that we do that?

I couldn’t have left my hand there for more than a few seconds at most, but I found that I didn’t want to take it away. When I did lift my hand up it was shaking a little.

“I’m just going to go for a lie-down,” I told him, standing up.

When I got to my room I closed the door, lifted my skirt up, pulled my panties to the side, and jammed three fingers into my sopping wet pussy. I was so worked up that in the space of a few minutes, I was already nearly there, I was so close.

“Mom, you forgot your wine,” said Chad as he opened the door to my room. I managed to get my hand out and my skirt down just in time. But he must have seen me red-faced and shaking though, because the look on his face was one of triumph; he knew what I’d been doing and that he’d won. He left the room with a smirk on his face.

Back downstairs I had a few more glasses of wine and then, after Chad had gone to bed, I switched to Jack, and I had a few of those too. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I took another large one up to bed with me. I realized it wasn’t such a good idea when I had trouble negotiating the stairs, but there was no work tomorrow and I just thought - oh fuck it, why not?

I sat in bed, sipping my bourbon, wishing Harry hadn’t been such a fuckwit, and remembering back to the last time we’d made love. I’d liberated two pairs of cuffs from work. We tried them on him first, but it didn’t do much for either of us. But when he put them on me it was a bit of a revelation; for some reason the idea of being bound and helpless really got me going.

Remembering that time brought back my horniness from earlier on, and I slipped my hand up the oversized T-Shirt I was wearing, realizing as I did that it was an old one of Harry’s, and I began gently stroking my pussy lips.

The next thing I knew was that I was having a dream and Harry was stroking my ass. I have a very sensitive ass and I started shivering and getting goosebumps all up my back, it was really lovely.

Then he started kissing my butt cheeks all over. I slid my upper leg up towards my chest, opening my butt crack, hoping he would take the hint. I love having my asshole licked and played with. I’m not so keen on being fucked there though, as Harry fully well knew.