I suppose I write this in an effort to understand the events of the last few weeks. To justify my actions to myself, and no one else really, or perhaps to find if there is someone that can understand my motivations, and excuse my shortcomings. I have always felt myself to be a good person, considerate of others and their feelings, and helpful when I can. I have always prided myself on working very hard to avoid ever hurting anyone, and until now I have felt as thought I have done so.

I met my husband, Phillip when we were both still in college. It was at a  frat party, he was a senior and I was a young, naive freshman from a little town. A small town girl who had her first shot at jumping out into the big world. I suppose I figured that it was going to be my chance to cut loose, live life on the wild side; something that was hard to do in my little home town, at least not without causing a scandal or having everyone know of it. Including my parents. I managed to get myself rather drunk, never having been much of a drinker but wanting to 'fit in' to the scene, and ended up in the back of Phillip's van. Truth was, Phillip would be my first. And as it turned out, my only; 6 weeks later I found out that I was pregnant. It was an amazement to me to find that Phillip was to stick by me, in fact it amazed me that he even remembered who I was. I guess because of the kindness and concern that he showed, I deemed him to be a good man and agreed to him when he offered that we get married. I quit school and had our first son, John.

Phillip finished school and got his degree, moving on to find work in a small practice. Two years later would bring the arrival of our second son, Chris; ending any thoughts I'd had of returning to school, and entrenching my status to that of mother and homemaker. In hindsight, Phil was a good husband and a good father; although not the man I would have chosen given different circumstances. As the years rolled on, our sons were getting older and Phil spent more and more of his time consuming himself in his work. He had become almost a stranger in our home, to the boys, and in our bed.

It was 4 months ago when Phil was offered a job with a large law firm out of state. The offer was too good to refuse and I think Phil had already made the decision to take the job, regardless of how the boys and I felt about it. To me, it didn't matter very much; I didn't like where we lived much to begin with, and  didn't have what you would consider to be any close friends either. My concerns were to be with the boys and how they would react. I didn't worry about John too much as he had always been a very outgoing child; making friends easily and always eager to try new things. Chris, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of his brother. Shy, quiet, yet very intelligent. Phil was committed to finishing up matters at his existing job, and his new firm was comfortable with letting him start in the fall. In the mean time, it allowed the boys to finish out the school year and for us to find a new house. As it happened, we stumbled into a true bargain almost immediately, but only if we could act fast. It was decided that Chris and I would head out on our own to the new house, new town, new state, while Phil and John would stay behind until our old house was sold. John was relieved to hear the news as he wanted very badly to finish out his baseball season, which he'd been involved in for years. It was only two days past the end of the school year when the moving van was to arrive, and off Chris and I went.

The month to follow would pass quickly for me; unpacking into the new house, finding my way around the new town, basically settling in. It was only then that I noticed that Chris was not taking the move as well as I'd hoped. His room was still full of unpacked boxes, which I had merely assumed was due to laziness, until I began to realize that they were full of things that Chris had always considered important. When I asked, he would merely say that it was nothing; everything was fine. He didn't go out of the house too much, content to stay home and help around the new house and that worried me. He needed to get out, meet some new people, make new friends, but it was slow going for him and I was hesitant to push him.

It was a Saturday night, after a whole day of running errands around town and to the mall, that would find Chris and I watching a little late night television. I had been sipping on my wine for a while, relaxing as the two of us sat on the family room sofa, and Chris was intently watching a true grade B monster movie on the tube. It was almost comical how bad it was, and the two of us shared our laughter watching it together. It was at a commercial break that I jokingly began to tickle Chris, mimicking one of the pathetic acting attempts of the movie's monster. He squirmed around on the sofa laughing as I tickled his ribs and under his arms, offering a faint resistance. The two of us rolled off of the sofa and down onto the floor before I finally decided that he'd had enough. I must admit, I had had enough as well as the excitement and the wine combined to make me feel a little light headed. We had come to rest entangled on the floor when the movie resumed on the television. I rolled myself over and rested my head on Christopher's belly as he watched his movie, when I realized that in all of the rolling around, Chris's bathrobe had opened up and he was not wearing his usual pajama shorts, but the pair of boxer shorts that we'd bought at the mall that afternoon. It was at my suggestion that we buy them for him, in an effort to get him to try something new, and he had agreed under the condition that we buy them large, as that was what was 'in style', or so he insisted. Whether he didn't notice, or was unaware I don't know but as he lay on his back, the fly of his boxers was wide open; exposing nearly his entire crotch to my view. Still a bit out of breath, the two of us just lay there for a moment, Chris distracted by the television.

I knew I should have turned my eyes away but couldn't. I stared in fascination at his young manhood; his skin so soft and smooth, just a light dusting of pubic hair and the alluringly soft, smooth pinkness of his penis. Being only 14, he was not what you would consider large in size, but by the relaxed flaccid size of him it was obvious that he was no longer a little boy. I could feel his heavy breathing under my head, and it's sound and motion reminded me of an exhausted lover and I began to feel incredibly turned on. As I watched with growing excitement, I could see his cock slowly stretch itself out; a purely automatic reaction to his calming breath and waning excitement. I lay there, still and silent as I could be, for what seemed to be an eternity, turning my gaze back to the television. Eventually, judging by the rhythm and depth of his breath, and the late hour of the night, I believed that he had fallen asleep. Preoccupied by the thoughts of what I'd seen, I turned my head to glance once more at his body. As I watched intently, Chris's cock began to engorge with blood, becoming fully erect as he slept; standing tall outside of the opening in his shorts. It was magnificent, so smooth and soft looking, devoid of the thick mat of pubic hair that his father had. I guess I never really got used to the idea of giving head to Phillip because he was so hairy down there, (he had scoffed when I had suggested that he trim it, and with most things with him that was the end of that). But looking at Chris, what little hair there was seemed to be so soft and baby fine that it almost made my mouth water. And there it was, he was, a mere foot away from my face and looking so inviting. It had been such an incredibly long time since Phillip had even looked at me, let alone wanted to have sex, that at times I thought that I would go mad from abstinence. My breathing was becoming hard, and with the wine having fully charged my body with excitement that, in that moment, I lost touch with my senses and gently reached out and eased my hand around Chris's cock.

The feeling was intense, the heat of his erection feeling as though it would burn my hand. His body never moved, but I heard and felt a long soft sigh come from him as my hand slid down over the velvety softness of him. I could see a bubble of lubricating  pre cum begin to form on the tip of his cock, and I was nearly in a state of mesmerized ecstasy when suddenly Chris's body jerked. He sat quickly, propping himself on his hands; his motion lifting my head up off of his belly as he rose. My hand was still holding on to his cock, and as I rose with him it gave him a firm tug. He arched his back in an unconscious effort to free himself from his unknown grip, and with his moving, my head moved closer to him; the end of his cock brushing the cheek of my face. I rolled over onto my stomach quickly,  lifting myself up onto all fours but still above his midsection, my hand resting between his thighs. I hadn't the courage to turn and look at him, I simply stared down at his crotch; watching his bobbing penis as he sat himself up. My hair had fallen down around my face and was covering his body like a blanket, tickling his belly and blocking out everything from my site but his beautiful erection. Chris sat motionless for a brief moment, then suddenly scooted himself backward and jumped to his feet. Before I had sat myself up on my haunches, tossing my hair out of my face and over my shoulders, he was gone. I heard the sound of him as he raced out of the room and up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

As I sat there on the family room floor, total panic set in. I was worried about him, I was worried about me, I didn't know what to think. What had I done? What had come over me? Had I forever destroyed the relationship between Chris and I? Would Chris tell his father about my behavior? I got up and poured myself a drink, needing something stronger than the wine I'd been drinking, only to put it to my lips and find it undrinkable. Was I so drunk and careless as to let this happen to me? Was it the alcohol or was it me? After pacing the room for an hour or so, I retreated upstairs to my room to try to sleep, but the truth was that I couldn't sleep at all. I lay there, still as could be, thinking about what had happened; excited at my boldness, exhilarated by the sight and feel of Chris's smooth young penis in my hand, and on the other hand terrified that my world was about to come crashing down around me.

I woke early the next morning, having slept little during the night, but not feeling tired. Despite my fears, I actually felt more alive than I had felt in years. What was it? Why did I feel this way? I wrapped myself in my bathrobe and went downstairs to the kitchen to make some coffee. As I stood waiting for my water to warm in the microwave, I could hear the sounds of Chris waking and making his way downstairs. I felt as though I needed to remain as calm as I could, and make Chris his usual Sunday morning breakfast.

Chris came down the stairs and entered the kitchen, dropping himself heavily in his chair. He looked half awake, but the smell of breakfast cooking was waking him up.

"Good morning, honey." I said to him, trying to act as normal as possible even though I was twisted up in knots inside.

"Morning." he mumbled, as he continued to just look down into the table.

I served him his breakfast, bacon and eggs, and poured him a glass of O.J. He sat silently, picking at his food. It was obvious that he had lots on his mind. I nervously finished with the food and fixing myself some coffee, and sat down at the table opposite Chris. I felt as though I had to say something to him.

"Chris, honey... about last night...," I began. "I... I know what I did was wrong. And I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I don't know what came over me."

Chris sat silent, still looking down at his plate.

"It's something that I shouldn't have done and I swear... I swear I'll never do anything like that again." I offered to him in a soft voice.

Slowly, he looked up from the table and into my eyes and said, "It's okay, mom."

Chris had a look on his face of relief, although he never said it, and he turned his eyes back down, still sitting silent and motionless.

"Oh, honey... I'm so sorry." I began to say, but stopped as I began to loose control. I did not want to add the burden of crying in front of Chris to his mind, and so I stood up from the table and walked to the sink. I began to wash some of the pots and pans from the cooking, but I was also silently listening to hear what Chris would do. I fully expected him to leave, to run, to do something but, to my suprise, he remained sitting at the table. I turned around to see that he was looking at me, quickly turning his eyes as not to let me notice. I sat back down at the table across from him, nervously; trying to think of what to say.

"Chris...", I finally had the courage to begin, "I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I promise,  whatever it might be, it can stay just between us." I was hoping to dispel any fears he might have had, but he merely nodded his head in agreement.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, my own condition being one of extreme nervousness. He again nodded but said nothing.

The tension in me was building to a peak, and I felt as though I would faint if I didn't get up from the table. Just as I was beginning to move to get up, Chris softly spoke out, still looking down at the table, "I thought were going to be mad at me."

His words suprised me, so much so that I let out a huge sigh of relief as I said, "Mad at you?"

He looked up at me for a moment, a slight smile on his face as he heard my sigh.

"Oh, baby. I'm not mad at you. How could I be mad at you!" I blurted out in a nervous laughter, feeling as if a thousand pounds of weight had been lifted from me. As he heard me laughing, his smile grew a little wider.

"I was so afraid of what you would think of me..." I began, pausing as I didn't know what to say next. Both of us were still in a nervous state, but for the moment, the tension had been released. It was out of instinct that I realized that whatever would happen from this, had to happen here and now. And with that, I asked Chris, "Why would you think that I was mad at you?"

He sat silent for a moment, the smile slowly fading from his face as he pondered the question.

"It's okay, you can tell me." I said. " ...just between us. I swear." I was holding up my fingers in a boy scout salute in an effort to lighten the situation up even further. Chris looked up to see my 'high sign' and began to chuckle a bit.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, "Really, I want to know what you're thinking."

"Well, ..." he began, "... I thought that you were gonna be mad at me, 'cause..."

He hesitated again, and tried to swallow away his tension.

"It's okay, Chris. Go ahead...", I tried to coax him.

"Well? Because I, ... you know... I liked it."

Again, I couldn't help myself from letting out a sigh of relief.

"It was just that ..." He stopped again, but this time his look became more serious.

"What is it, baby?" I asked.

"Well, I... liked it and... I, it felt really good and I...' He stammered along. " Well, I got scared that..."

"It's all right sweetheart, you can say it." I said.

"Well, I've never done that with a girl before... I mean..." He said, almost ashamedly.

I sat silent for a moment, unable to wipe the grin off of my face as a mental picture began to form in my mind.

"... I wanted to, but... I don't know, I guess I just got scared..." He finished.

I was totally speechless.  The more he spoke, the faster my mind raced with thoughts of his body and of my own; the wetness building between my legs uncontrollably from my thoughts. My mind was racing with the mental images of this young boy masturbating, caressing his member to pleasure, spewing his load from his velvety soft boyhood. My breathing had become strong and hard as my excitement grew, until I felt a bit dizzy. Chris was completely unaware of my sexual tension, as he labored with his own thoughts and questions.