I gave scant attention to the elbow digging into my right breast as I leaned over my son's window seat to take-in the sight of our nation's capital from the air. The excitement I felt was due solely to other factors and had nothing to do with the realization that my fourteen-year-old son was feeling me up on a crowded airplane. Only after I sat back and put my seatback and tray table in the full upright position did my excitement center on that.

Having raised three boys older than Matt, I'd been through this awkward phase of puberty where a boy first notices that mommy is a female. I felt like an old pro at riding out the difficult months of stolen peeks and subtle feels, hugs that I'd slap a man for, or kisses that lasted a bit too long, involved too much lip contact, and way too much hand-to-ass contact.

Matt had been doing much better than any of the others. He never tried to slip his tongue in my mouth like John frequently did. He never cut peep holes in my bedroom and bathroom walls as Jerry did, and he never sneaked under the dining table to look straight up my skirt as Roger became expert at. Matt was doing great until we left for the National Honor Society Awards, alone, just the two of us for three days and two nights far from home.

He probably felt like he could do no wrong. My husband and I were so proud of him. We just couldn't stop praising him and thanking him for making us so proud. I could not keep my hands off him. In the days just prior to leaving on our great adventure, he could not pass me without me smothering him with unabashed affection.

I wasn't thinking about his puberty problem. Matt was still my baby, my smart baby. It never occurred to me he would take my affectionate hugs and kisses as anything other than what they were.

He did, and I realized that on the plane, several times. He never spoke without first getting my attention with a hand squeezing the bare flesh between my skirt's hem and my right knee. "Mom, [squeeze squeeze] look at those mountains. They still have snow."

To look at the mountains, I'd have to lean over him and get my right tit elbowed, or the left one forearmed if he kept his hand on my leg. I never said anything to any of the other boys, and they survived. They eventually began addressing their seduction skills to a younger, more hard-bodied, fleet-of-foot, and socially acceptable quarry, one that might actually respond - more importantly, one they might actually score with.

Playing dumb is the hard part, but I was good at it by the time Matt discovered my breasts were hooters, jugs, big-ole' titties, and a way to get me to offer them up for feels: "Oh, my goodness! Look at all that snow."

I didn't mind playing along, I really didn't. The only thing that bothered me was my disappointment at Matt being a tit man. I find tit men to be so shallow, crude, and basically dumb. Jerry and John are classic tit men. Roger is a leg/ass man, slightly better, but men who adore the vagina, twat worshipers, are the best. They are intelligent, subtle, sensitive, and make terrific husbands, lovers, and companions. I always saw Matt as a twat man when I pictured him going through this phase. Matt showed all the qualities of a budding twat man.

I think many overly-endowed women resent the attention paid to their breasts. I do especially. In my opinion, my breasts are my least attractive feature. My ass is first rate. My legs can't be beat, even by the young hard-bodies, but my vagina takes top honors.

Most men treat the vagina like a warm, wet crack. Consequently, most women pay scant attention to making their vagina sensually appealing. I see my vagina as a sensual organ, a thing of visual and tactile beauty. I keep my vagina in the finest form with shaves, massages, scented oils, and perfume. I often go out without panties to give my crotch lots of fresh air. On occasion, my beaver gets sunshine through cocoa butter.

At home, I never wear panties, but I wear my skirts knee-length. No one in or outside the home ever knew except my husband, my son Roger (the under the table guy), and a select few others that I prefer not to think about except when I have cocoa butter and a vibrator.

I'm not proud of my adulterous adventures, but some men are too difficult to resist and so easy to attract. I discovered, very early in my marriage, that I could totally control our sex life by displaying my vagina or concealing it. When I want sex, I get my vagina good and wet, full and blushing, then slyly let my husband, Greg, see it. If I just turn my back to him when removing my panties, I'm as good as mounted. If I tease him by slowly raising and cocking each leg while freeing the panties from my feet, making my wet, pink parts wink and glisten, I get dragged into bed and mounted by an animal. When I'm really good, I don't get dragged anywhere.

Conversely, if I slip into bed while wearing my panties, and roll away from him after a kiss goodnight, he'll eventually drift off to sleep or jerk off. When I'm not in the mood, I could care less. I think this is the best-kept secret around, and I had always hoped for at least one daughter to pass the secret along to. I also found the secret works on any heterosexual male, much to my shame but not regret. Thankfully, twat men are discrete. Twat women are extremely clever and careful. No one knows but me and the lucky few dozen twat men I have encountered in twenty years of marriage.

By the time I was checking out the distant capital, Matt's subtle rubbing wasn't so subtle. While I focused on the Washington Monument, he tweaked my left nipple. I could not let that go unnoticed or uncommented on. I sat back while facing him with a look of mock surprise, saying, "Matt, you little devil."

He smiled and said, "Jerry told me you like having your boobs played with. Boy, was he right."

I must have turned ten shades of red. I said, "That little shit. I'll have you know I detest that."

"Come on, Mom. I'm not stupid. You've been floppin' your hooters in my face all the way across the country. You love it when I rub them. Admit it. I'm not like Jerry. I'd never tell."

I was in a quandary. My behavior certainly suggested that his assumption was correct. Jerry evidently passed through puberty with that impression. Denying the obvious would only make me out to be a liar, and I'd always placed such high value on truth. I was not about to explain my true feeling and philosophy on a crowded airplane, so I shyly smiled and said, "Be that as it may, you shouldn't be taking those liberties, especially in such a public environment."

In response, he reached out and honked my left tit. He then went to the right and poked the nipple, sending my nipple three inches into my pillowy flesh, going, "Beep," then saying, "No one can see now that the seats are up."

I was so shocked - stunned speechless in fact. I looked around and saw that he was right. We sat in the two-seat row. Across from us in the aisle seat of the three-seat row, sat a big sleeping man blocking the other two passengers from seeing our way. I turned back to Matt just as he honked my right hooter. I didn't admonish him, so he honked the left as I quietly said, "Matt, this is still embarrassing. I wish you wouldn't do that."

He felt for my nipple and gave it a sensuous rolling pinch, saying, "Is this better? Do you like this?"

I liked that much better, but I dare not admit it. Still, I did nothing to stop him while saying, "Don't press your luck. I know you're feeling your oats, and you deserve to, but your behavior is bordering on the obscene, not to mention incest."

He turned to face me and took both breasts in his hands, massaging, squeezing, and hefting them while saying, "Incest is a social taboo. Nature doesn't dictate that mating between immediate family members be taboo. All that crap you hear about freaks being born is just that - crap. Only long-term in-breeding will produce a substandard, genetically deficient offspring."

The smart little fucker did his homework. I finally took him by the wrists, freed my hooters, and playfully placed his hands in his lap while admonishing, "I buy into that social taboo. We are not mating, so stop with the foreplay."

I was happy this made him laugh. I was happier, still, that he didn't miss my tits. He could take them or leave them. His laughter and composure relaxed me, and I needed relaxing. The little mother fucker actually turned me on. My pussy was on fire. Thankfully, I had panties on with a mini pad in the crotch.

When I go out for long stretches, I do that. I am a juicy bitch, and anything I find sexy can get my twat slick and slimy. You don't want a slimy twat when you have to remain seated for long periods with only one layer of fabric between the leak and the seat. The way my cunt was pouring down vaginal secretions, I wished I'd thought to insert a tampon as well.

Matt was cool. He turned his attention to the ground rising up, the flaps going down, and cloud wisps flashing by. I turned my attention to lower abdominal fire control. I went over the agenda, mentally repacked my suitcase with pant suits instead of dresses, and checked out the inseam on Matt's new slacks. Very good job.

I was still a bit flushed after landing, but that flush dissolved quickly to anger when our luggage didn't deplane with us. Frustration followed, caused by a maddening throng, rude airline employees, and hotel desk clerks who snottily said, "No, there's no rooms."

I tried to get reservations prior to leaving San Diego, but DC had three major events going on that May weekend. I got tired of waiting on hold while paying a long distance charge, so we went with no place to stay. I figured I'd find something somewhere, even if we had to rent a car and drive a hundred miles. We rented a car and drove fifty miles into Virginia, eventually stopping at every No-Vacancy motel, trying to beg a room. I finally found a cheap motel with a room being remodeled. The guy gave it to us at full price, then handed me all the bedding and towels.

I was happy to make the bed and hang up the towels. I wasn't happy when we entered the room. Paint tarps were over everything and there was no door on the bathroom, no shower curtain, no shower rod, no toilet paper, nothing. Matt went back for TP while I sat and thought about the situation. Under the tarp was one bed. We had a situation.

To make matters worse, the room, in its present state of construction, offered no privacy, for anything. A quick check under the tarps proved we had no TV. We had nothing to do but look at each other. With no luggage, I'd need to wash out my panties, at least, and sleeping in my clothes was out of the question, as I'd most likely have to wear the same outfit to the registration on Saturday morning.

Matt returned with the TP and a smile. He sized-up the situation on the return trip. He entered the room wearing a grin, and said, "Isn't this cozy? You and me, alone in a motel with nothing to do, no privacy, and thousands of miles from home. I read a story like this in a dirty book. Wanna know how it turned out?"

I stood, removed the tarp from the bed, and said, "I can imagine. I know where you got the dirty book, too. Well, don't keep me in suspense. I can see you're dying to tell me how it turned out."

"The Mommy got pregnant."

I stopped whipping the sheet out to look at Matt. I couldn't help but smile. I said, "That's the second time you've hinted at me getting pregnant by you. I don't know what you've got on your twisted mind, but you can rule out intercourse, at least between you and me. If you can find a willing partner, I'll go for a walk."

"I'll do the same for you, okay?"

I dropped the sheet and plopped on the bed as though my legs buckled. They sorta did. I stared open-mouthed, fighting back the smile. The smile was in my voice as I said, "Matt, you stinker. Do you actually think I would cheat on your father?"

"I don't know, but you could now. I'd never tell a soul, never. Who'd know, and Dad would never suspect anything knowing I'm with you every minute of every day. He knows you'd never leave me alone, not even at night in a secure hotel room."

I was at a loss. None of the experience I'd gained with the other boys helped one iota in dealing with Matt. With the others, I effortlessly parried their crude seduction attempts, allowing them liberties when they did everything right, turning cold when they screwed up, but reigning them in abruptly when they went for the kill. They were easy. They all made the same mistake.

If you give a young boy an inch, he'll go for another, and another, and another. Sooner or later, they'll think they are sliding into home base. Jerry actually climbed naked into bed with me one morning after feigning illness to miss the fishing trip with the rest. John came up behind me while I was doing dishes, grabbed my tits, and started grinding his hard cock against my ass. Roger tried the sliding-into-bed trick, only late at night when Greg was out of town.

In each case, I let them think they were going to get laid, only to stop them at the crucial moment by saying, "All right; time out; get off. Okay, hot shot, here's where you went wrong, and here's where you went right."

What followed was a frank discussion of sex, a clinical, serious discussion. I went over everything they had tried with me over several months, critiquing what they did right and wrong. I was brutal at times and praised them at others. I taught them how to seduce most women and young girls, emphasizing the use of condoms when they went for the kill.

Each was sent away with a warning: "Now, let's get something straight. If you ever attempt any of these techniques on me; if you ever try to seduce me again, you will probably get your face slapped. If you try again after that, we'll have another talk and bring your father in on it. We are going to keep this matter and everything that led up to this point our secret. If I find out that you breathed a word to anyone, you and I will have another talk, only I won't be taking my clothes off and giving you the three dollar tour. You will not be a happy camper. Understood?"

In each case, I entered into a level of intimacy most mothers would find shocking. I had strayed across the line by most people's standards. I don't care. My method works, and my motives were pure. My boys immediately straightened out after that talk and tour. They went out and got laid, made little girls very happy, and did so safely, responsibly, and naturally. Sure, they sometimes get nasty with me, if we are alone, but only in a fun-loving, teasing way, never as a seduction attempt. John often grabs my tits or swats my ass. Jerry likes to check and see if I have panties on feel for a recent twat shave. Roger likes to sneak up and lick my bare ass, or walk by and run a hand up my leg clear to wetness. I only get angry if I'm not in the mood or if they took chances I wasn't willing to take. Otherwise, I take this playful abuse good naturedly.

Matt needed the talk and tour on day one. I came very close to upbraiding him at that point, to set a slower pace, or make him back up. I knew the talk and tour would have to wait until we returned to San Diego. An awkward week always followed one of my talk and tours. Matt would be spending more time alone with me over the next three days than the others had over three or four months. A working mother with four boys doesn't get much time alone with anyone, and time alone was a prerequisite to anyone getting to first base or even to bat.

What was worse, what raised my anxiety level, Matt was doing everything just right. I had no experience in dealing with a perfect seduction from one of my kids. I discovered, much to my chagrin, there's no place to jump in. Even my silent stare technique had no effect on Matt. He simply stared back with his arms folded casually, leaning against a covered dresser. In such standoffs, the first to speak looses, but I wound up speaking first, saying, "You have some nerve suggesting I take advantage of the situation. At least, I now know what kind of woman you think I am."

He smiled and said, "I've known for years."

My heart was pounding in my chest. Jerry must have told him more than the misinformation that I liked having my tits played with. John did partly penetrate me before I spun around and dislodged the head of his cock from within my pussy. Perhaps he told Jerry and Jerry told Matt. He may have counted that as a fuck. My husband would have. I probed, saying, "What exactly did Jerry tell you, Matt?"

"Just what I told you on the plane, that you like having your breasts played with. You don't, but he thinks you do."

I couldn't believe this young man. How could he know? What has he known for years? And what kind of woman does he think I am? I wondered, then asked, "So, what kind of woman am I?"

Without hesitation, he said, "Sensuous, seductive, extraordinarily beautiful, exceptionally well-suited for reproduction and mating, and very independent. I'm guessing, but I'd say sexually active with multiple partners."

I smiled and reclined on the bed supported on straight arms - you know, looking sensuous, seductive, extraordinarily beautiful, exceptionally well-suited for reproduction and mating, and very independent. I said, "A whore, in other words?"

"If you like that term for it, sure."

"What term do you like?"

He thought for a few seconds, then said, "I like whore, but I'd never call you a whore in the degrading sense. If I ever called you a whore, I'd be smiling when I did."

"You're smiling now."

"I'm thinking."

Matt was getting to me very quickly. I decided horizontal wasn't a good idea. I stood and returned to bed making so that I wouldn't have to look into those devilish eyes that seemed to penetrate right through all my defenses. I busied myself, but wanted to keep talking. I said, "While we're on this trip, you may call me anything you like as long as you smile when you say it. I won't challenge you or get angry, but when we get home, and you've gotten this nastiness out of your system, we go back to Mom, understood?"

I was very proud of they way I took control. The speech was classic Gwen Mathews. Of course, my back was to him all the while. He said, "Mom, turn around. I have something I'd like to say to you - to your face."

I took a deep breath, turned slowly, and faced him. I folded my arms and said, "Well?"

He said, "Look me in the eyes." I gulped, then locked eyes with him. He smiled, and said, "Mom, you are a whore, a cheating whore, but I adore you. In fact, I love you very much."

This was like a punch in the gut, a tongue down the throat, and a long finger up my cunt all at once. He left me weak in the knees and blushing like a school girl. I gave a weak smile in response, then hurriedly re-flapped a sheet I'd already laid out and smoothed. When I thought I could talk without passion in my voice, I said, "I'll bet that felt good to get out, and that was sweet to end it the way you did. I love you too, sweetheart, and your father and I are so proud of you. For you to win an award like this at your age. Why there's no telling where you'll..."

My rambling was halted my a soft hand laid on my ass near the top. That hand slid sensuously down the curve of my left ass cheek, over the rounded underside, down the back of my skirt-covered thigh, and stopped on bare skin with the fingers curled to the inside of my left thigh.

I took a deep breath in anticipation of that hand easing up under my skirt, but it remained in place, torturing me with softly turning circles. I braced myself on the mattress like a bitch preparing for the mount - and waited. I waited for a very long minute in silence. He was killing me. I couldn't get control, and I couldn't ask him to do what I wanted him to do - go up, young man, go up!

He finally took his hand away and returned to his place for mother watching. I resumed bed making, but kept my mouth shut. God, I was so fucking horny. My mini pad was saturated when I deplaned. Now, it was like a sopping wet sponge. I was afraid, in all the bending, stooping, and walking in tight spaces, I might squeeze that pad too tightly and send a torrent of pussy slime cascading down my legs. Who would speak first then, I wondered?

Matt watched me in silence, and his silent watching was almost as maddening as his silent touching. I could feel his eyes on my legs, high up on my legs. As I laid out the bedspread, he said, "You know you're going to have to get undressed and sleep naked. Why not get it over with now? Let's both take our clothes off and get comfortable with each other's bodies."

I turned down the covers and set the two pillows in place, then sat on the bed and looked to Matt. I said, "Stop trying to seduce me, Matt. You have already proved that you can. I see what you're doing; if it's any consolation, it's working. I'm asking you. No, I'm begging you not to."

Matt broke into a big smile, then said, "Don't beg. I find that unbecoming a woman of your stature. I know I can have you when I want you. I've been studying these matters. I knew you'd seduce easily, but I won't take unfair advantage of you."

I breathed a sigh, then said, "Thank you. I'm sorry, Mathew, but I can't handle a sexual relationship with my own son. If we started, I'd doubt we could stop. I know I couldn't handle it back in San Diego. That's why we can't start down that path."

"I think we can handle it, and I won't stop trying. I just said I wouldn't take unfair advantage of you."

I raised my eyebrows and said, "Oh, and just what does that mean?"

"Techniques. I was using techniques. That was unfair."

"Techniques - such as?"

"Eye contact. Calling you a whore while wearing a smile, ending with, I love you. Staring at your sexual parts with hungry eyes. Softly touching you in an intimate place without venturing to a very intimate place. Those are techniques used by the masters. You never stood a chance. That wasn't fair. No more techniques, that's my promise. I'll try using my own techniques."

Whatever books he'd been reading steered him right. The techniques worked like a charm on me. I felt better knowing he'd use no more techniques like those. My confidence in my ability to fend off or parry the advances of an inexperienced young man slowly returned. He had me intrigued, though. I smiled, and said, "Fair enough, Matt. If you do manage to seduce me while we're on this trip, I'll carry on a sexual relationship with you after we return, damn the consequences. On the other hand, if you fail, I want your solemn promise that the seduction attempts end here. Can we agree on that?"

"On the condition that you explain the situation to Dad and the others. I don't want to sneak around in my own home. Dad and I will share you. Every time he gets some, I get some, too. Agreed?"

Well, that settled it. He just made his first mistake and he hadn't yet started. I had nothing to worry about, and quickly said, "Agreed. Shall we shake on this?"

He stepped forward, offering his hand. We shook as he said, "I'm holding you to this agreement, Mom. If you don't follow through, I'll tell Dad myself."

I still had his hand, and we were still shaking as I said, "I never break a promise, and you know that."

Before releasing my hand, he tickled my palm with his fuck finger. I laughed, grabbed him, and pulled him onto the bed, tickling him and making him squeal, kick, and flail his arms and legs. Since I have thirty pounds on him and am much more physically fit, I had my way with him. He was in tears before I let up. When I stopped, I was straddling his hips with my sopping wet crotch pad squeezed dry on his crotch. That was in no way intentional; that was forgetful and most regrettable.

His first words were, "Jesus, Mom, what did you do, pee on me?"

I turned red, climbed off, and took a look at what I'd done. The entire front of his new gray slacks were dark gray. I said, "Sorry. Maybe I did. We're going to have to wash those out and hope they drip dry by morning. We better get started."

"You go first."

"I'll just be rinsing my panties out. I'll get undressed right before we turn in, with the lights out."

"Then I'm keeping these on. We'll go to registration with a big stain on my pants."

"Matt, please. Give me the pants. I'm serious."

"So am I. Take off all your clothes. You're going to have to, anyway."

"Fine, I'll take them off. I also need to use the toilet, number two, so you take a walk. Give me ten minutes, but don't wander off. When you come back in, I'll be naked, rinsing out my panties. You get undressed and hand me those slacks. When I come out, we'll talk some more, but then we get into the bed and get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow, and it's getting late."

Matt smiled and left. I watched him leave, then quickly undressed in the bathroom. I didn't need to shit, but I thought I should try being as privacy was at such a premium. I passed a small amount, then used a wet pad of tissue dabbed on a soap bar to thoroughly clean my anus. I am meticulous about rectal cleanliness. You can eat off my rectal sphincter.

While still seated on the toilet, I took advantage of the privacy to try and squeeze in a quick climax. An orgasm had been hovering at the brink since we flew over the Rockies. While playing with my pussy with my feet pressed to the wall, I thought about the consequences of loosing.

Jerry, John, and Roger were no problem. They'd be told that Matt did everything right, and therefor won me as a sex partner. I could see them congratulating Matt, patting him on the back. Greg was another matter entirely.

Although Greg knew and approved of my puberty conditioning routine, and knew John had actually part-way entered me, he would not approve of me having humping, pumping, ball-busting, rock-'em sock-em', juicy-Lucy sex with any of his sons. As for me having a tit for tat on-going sexual relationship with our youngest boy - forget it. He'd go through the roof. He'd rant and rave, punch a wall, threaten, pout, then plead in that order. He wouldn't divorce me, and he wouldn't hit me. Actually, he'd be screwed if I failed.

The image of home life as it might be made me cum like a woman gone mad. I also broke the toilet seat and slid with it to the floor. I recovered and set the unattached seat in place. Since Matt hadn't used the toilet, I'd just tell him it was broken and to be careful. I was scrubbing the crotch of my panties with a tiny bar of soap when I heard the door open.

My stomach moved to my throat as I heard his foot falls on tarp. He made a beeline to the open doorway of the bathroom. When he got too close, I yelled back, "Just stay there. Get the slacks off and toss them in here."

My bare ass was to the doorway as I worked bent over the sink. Matt's voice was coming from the doorway, just two feet to my rear. He said, "Wow! Double wow!"

I tensed, feeling his eyes roaming my naked cunt lips, poised like a split peach at the top of my thighs. I knew the view quite well - naked, hairless labia lips, slick and slimy, split down the center by a deep crack, with the clit peeking out at the bottom. I said, "No gawking. Toss in the slacks and leave. Wait on the bed...the far side of the bed."

Matt didn't budge, but he did undress. When the rolled slacks hit the toilet seat, the seat went sliding off. I gripped the sink with stiff arms and sternly said, "Matt! Leave!"

"You have an exceptional vagina. Did you know that?"

He wasn't leaving, so I stood and turned my hip to him. My eyes were drawn to his standing erection, a respectable six inches. The sight stole my voice for a second, but I managed to lift my eyes and say, "I think you've seen enough of me down there. Can I have some privacy, please?"

I assumed he'd leave and I returned to scrubbing panties that were wearing thin from all the scrubbing. He didn't leave. The stubborn little fucker dropped to his knees. I gripped the sink again and stiffly said, "Matt, don't look at me there. This is embarrassing."

"I'm sorry. I'm just curious. This isn't part of any seduction attempt. I've just never seen one so beautiful. Actually, all I've seen are pictures, but I've never seen a picture of one that looked this sexy."

If he wasn't trying to seduce, he was seducing without trying. I said, "Suit yourself, then. Look all you want, but I'd like to pretend you're not there so be quiet."

"Can I ask one favor first?"

"What is it?"

"Could you just step out, say two or three feet and bend over more?"

Oh, the little bastard: "No, I could not, and you've got some nerve even asking."

"I can't see the hole I came into the world through. I've always wondered what it looked like."

Oh, the little fucker - my little cunt nut. If he still wasn't trying, I was impressed. I said, "Oh, all right. Take a look if you must."

I stepped out wide, three feet wide, and laid forward over the sink. I could feel my lips part and cool air tease my sensitive internal membranes. I waited while he looked. When I thought he'd had enough, and started to tell him so, he beat me to the punch, saying, "I still can't see the hole. Is it all right if I move the labia majora a bit?"