Marsha Brown was looking in the website history file to locate an important site for her online degree course that she had forgotten to bookmark. She almost wished she hadn't. There they were again; she didn't even have to click on them, she knew they were mother-son incest sites. She kept hoping Ron would just outgrow this unhealthy fixation on her; but it didn't seem to be happening.

Why her very handsome and popular athlete son would be sexually attracted to her was hard for her to understand. He dated some very attractive girls his own age. And while Marsha had certainly never let her body go to pot, neither had she spent hours at the gym trying to stop time. She was a reasonably nice looking, if somewhat matronly, forty year old hard working junior executive, part time student and single mother. Who the hell had time for glamour? In fact, she was perfectly aware that she could not possibly accomplish all that she did, except that Ron was the perfect son... with this single exception. He even earned most of his own money by working three afternoons a week and Saturday making deliveries for the local pharmacy and grocery store.

She decided she had better call her friend Carol, who was a trained adolescent counselor and had been unofficially advising Marsha. "Carol, it's Marsha, Ron's been on those incest websites again."

"You mean you caught him again, I'm willing to bet he's never really been off them."

"I could get parental control software and block him."

"A waste of time, Marsha, Ron knows a lot more about computers than you do. He'd crack it before you left the room. And if he'd couldn't, he'd just go to a friend's house. No, I think it's better to keep it in the open, rather than force it underground. Anything else going on?"

"Just the usual. I have to be careful getting out of the shower. Don't bend over in a low neckline. And I think he gets into my dirty lingerie sometimes. Stuff like that."

"Oh hell Marsha, most mothers of teenage sons put up with that. At his age, they are likely to fuck anything they can't eat or put on their car. Seriously, I think it might help if I talk to him privately. Ask him to expect me at your place tomorrow at 6:00, then you make yourself scarce, OK?"

"Thanks a bunch Carol, I appreciate it."

Ron liked his mother's friend Carol but he was not very glad to see her this time since he knew why she had come even before she asked him rhetorically. "You know why I want to talk to you, don't you Ron?"

"Yea, I'm weirding Mom out again with my incest sites. But Carol, I love mom, I'd never do anything to hurt her. I'm not going to rape her or anything. I just feel this sexual attraction toward her"

"Ron, I know you'd never hurt your mom and she does too. I think she's more concerned about you being hurt, emotionally. Also I'm not sure that you completely understand the other side of this sexual attraction coin."

"What other side? I don't get it."

"I know you don't. Men never do. Think about it Ron. Your mom is still a very red blooded woman with all the normal feelings and needs. She's put them aside for a long time to support the two of you but they are still there. She's been alone too long. You are a very good looking and sexy young hunk and you live under the same roof. You think a lot about trying to get a peek at her body, but I bet you don't think a damn bit about prancing around the house nearly naked in front of her all the time. Now what do you think that does to her?"

Ron just stared for a moment. "Oh shit Carol, you're right! I don't think about it at all. I'm probably frustrating the hell out of her all the time without even knowing it. But I never thought that mom would be turned on by me, I thought it was me getting turned on by her."

"Listen Ron, that's what I'm trying to tell you. Nature and society make women the gatekeepers of sex. We usually get stuck with the job of deciding whether or not sex will happen while the men stand around with a hardon, raring to go. Well, that doesn't mean that we always like the job. Sometimes it sucks. Someday, you're going to get pissed at some poor girl in the back seat of a car, because she makes you stop; and you'll never know that she hated stopping as much as you but did it because it had to be done."

"OK, I'm following you except that I don't understand what this has to do with me and mom."

"Well, in your case, your mom has locked the gate. She has already decided that the two of you can never under any circumstances have sex — period — end of story. Now that's not everyone's answer. Mother son incest is not that rare, especially in fatherless households. Now that you are of legal age it's even somewhat more defensible than if you were a minor child but none of that matters. Within your mother's core values, that essential sense of right and wrong that steers us, it's wrong. You have to respect that Ron. To force her to violate that personal code would be to hurt her very badly. Do you understand and accept that?"

Ron looked at the ground a moment before answering with a slight reluctance." Yea Carol, I do, I guess I always knew but held out a tiny hope. But I understand about that somewhere inside, you have to stand for something, or you're nobody. I'll tell mom I respect her on this."

"Now here's the tricky part I was trying to explain to you. Even though your mom has always known that she would never have sex with you, that does not mean that she doesn't get really hot looking at you, just like you get looking at her. So cut her some slack and don't run around naked, OK?"

"Alright, now tell me how I quit fantasizing about her and trying to get a peek when I still feel the way I do?"

"I don't remember saying that you had to. Fantasy is healthy as long as we know it's fantasy. I think looking at you mother as a sexy woman is probably very good for her morale if reasonably done. I mean; if her robe comes open, then saying nice tits mom, that's OK, drilling holes in the bathroom wall is not. Harmless good natured flirting is probably good for her, coming on is not. You know the difference. You'll probably find that she will have days when she needs a morale boost and she may do things to draw attention, and you should give it, but recognize it for what it is and no more."

"Thanks, Carol, I mean it, I understand mom's needs a lot better."

"Ok Ron, then let's talk about Ron's needs."

"I'm alright; I've got girlfriends my own age."

Carol took his hand. "Nice brave try Ronny, but that's not enough is it? Or we wouldn't be here today would we? There is some part of you that is crying out for a closer connection with your mother."

"But it's a connection I can't have."

"No you can't Ron. But tell me, do you know why I said fantasies are healthy?"

"No, not really."

"Fantasy is important because we never get to do all of the things we want to do in life and fantasy is our way of filling in some of the gaps. If we are stuck in a boring marriage, fantasy allows us to make love to a movie star. If we are a lousy athlete, in our fantasy, we can play on the Steelers. You can't sleep with your mother in real life but you can in your fantasy life."

"But Carol, I already have fantasized about mom and I still want the real thing, it hasn't worked."

"Then we obviously need to upgrade your fantasies so that they are more fulfilling."

"How do we do that?"

"That is the hardest part Ron, I won't kid you, and the same thing doesn't work for everyone. I'll need your help. It could be play acting, It could be writing your fantasies down, that's where a lot of those stories on those sites you like come from. It could be finding someone that reminds you of her to help but of course I can't officially recommend anything like that, you understand? Let's both take a week or so and think of ideas and then we'll meet again. The best way is for you to just keep your eyes open. And use your imagination? OK Ron?"

"OK, Carol, I'll try," Ron promised but inside he remained very skeptical.

Life returned to a normal busy routine in the Brown household and Marsha noticed some immediate improvements. Ron seemed a lot more careful about what he wore around the house and that lowered her level of frustration. He still flirted and made her feel sexy but not uncomfortable. Marsha had every reason to feel good about the changes. For Ron, things had not really improved except that his mother was obviously happier. So far, he had no ideas for a fantasy to replace her.

Work was going well. His friendliness and dependability had built a faithful repeat clientele who asked for him by name and tipped well. Every Wednesday, the last call of the day always was a grocery order from the same woman, Mrs. Gamble. Ron liked Mrs. Gamble, she lived alone and he suspected she always scheduled him last so he could stay and talk. But he didn't mind, so he always did. This week, after his talk with carol, he was more observant than usual. He realized that probably one reason he liked her is that she was a lot like his mom. At least she had similar mannerisms and build. The likeness had never really struck him because she was a blonde and his mother had very distinctive red hair. Today sitting at her kitchen table sipping coffee, he suddenly realized that in a red wig, she could pass for his aunt. Although she was quite friendly, Mrs. Gamble always seemed very sad, as though she had suffered a great tragedy. He was always hesitant to ask her about it. But Carol's talk had opened his eyes to appreciating what other people were feeling. He was sure this woman was in great pain, and in some way, she was reaching out to him for help.

He set down his coffee. Mrs. Gamble, if you have a few minutes, can we talk as friends? I know I'm just a kid, but I like you, you remind me of my mom and I'd like to be a friend."

"Well yes Ronny, I'd like that." She always called him Ronny and he didn't mind that much. "But only if you'll call me Annie, my friends all call me Annie so I guess you'll have to also."

"OK Annie, can I ask you something personal?"

"Now Ronny, I can't be getting between a mother and her son, so I won't discuss things that you should be talking to her about. But, if we are going to be friends, I'll try to talk honestly about anything you want. If I think it's just too personal, I'll stop you. Come sit beside me on the sofa where we'll be comfortable."

He got up with her and joined her on a comfortable old fashioned sofa. "Thank you, Annie, and I appreciate your concern about mom, I don't know if you knew this but my dad died when I was three so it's just been the two of us, and we're very close. No Annie, this question just involves you and me." Ron noticed that she licked her lips nervously. "You have been asking for me by name, to deliver your groceries every Wednesday. You always get the last delivery so I will have time to talk." Annie started to say something but he shook his head. "I don't mind Annie, I look forward to our visits, I enjoy talking to you. That's not it. I just think you're holding something back and I wish I knew what it was." He stopped and looked in her eyes.

She evaded his gaze and looked down. "I'm not sure what you mean Ronny, do you perhaps think I'm a lonely old woman out to seduce a good looking man young enough to be her son?" She laughed, but there was no real humor there.

"Hardly Annie, you're far too attractive a woman to be reduced to seducing the bag boy."

"I wouldn't be too sure on either count young man; on my supposed attractiveness or you being just the bag boy. But you are right, that's not why I ask for you."

"Annie, I'm just a teen age boy, and we are not known for sensitivity. But even I feel a great sadness in you, and I know that in someway you ask me here in response to that sadness. I just wish you would open up to me, maybe I could do more to help. I'd like to try."

She stared at him like he had dropped in from the moon. "Don't ever underestimate your sensitivity Ronny; you are more correct than even you know." She put her hands on his shoulders. "I really appreciate that you'd like to help. But I can't open up, to you or anyone. Once I let go of my feelings I might never get them back under control again."

Ron was just not prepared to give up. "Annie, it can't be good to carry all that sadness by yourself. I'm young and strong, let me help." He put his arms around her neck and gave her an innocent hug. He was not prepared for the reaction. If she had pushed him away, he wouldn't have been surprised. If she had hugged him back, he wouldn't have been surprised. If she had started to cry, he wouldn't have been surprised. In the event, she drew her legs up under her, her nostrils flared, her breathing deepened, she grabbed the back of his head with her left hand, gave him a flaming passionate lover's kiss, while her right hand went for his zipper like a penis seeking missile; and he was surprised, very surprised!

To his credit as a properly raised young man, Ron was probably going to protest. In his assailant's practiced hands however, his hormones proven quicker than his righteous indignation so his virtue was well on the way to being compromised. In fact, before Ron fully comprehended his predicament, his pants and boxers were around his ankles. His erection stood out from his body as straight and proud as the flagpole on the front of his schoolhouse. She took it in her hand with that combination of judgment and worshipfulness that a wine connoisseur reserves for twenty year old Bordeauxs. She stroked it lovingly a few times but then almost immediately took the head in her warm mouth. Like most high school seniors, Ron did not have excessive experience with this particular sensory experience, so the effect on him was immediate and dramatic. "Ah, ah, oh my God, that feels wonderful!" It was only now that Annie, who happened to be particularly talented in this art form, unleashed her full armory of techniques. Ron went from noisy appreciation to deer in the headlight silent awe. He was also busy trying to avoid an instant climax under the assault of a highly skilled mouth and tongue. To his credit, he lasted about as long as it takes to cook a Ball Park frank of somewhat similar size in a 500 watt microwave oven. This also gives a reasonable comparison to the amount of energy Annie could dispense through her mouth in the course of a blow job. It was over as quick as that, Ron had the most incredible humongous thoroughly satisfying orgasm of his young life.

He looked down to thank his benefactor, this wonderful woman who had done this wonderful thing and he saw that Annie's face was a shocked rigid mask, like the person in a movie who comes to, standing over the body with a bloody axe in their hand. She looked up at him with trembling lips and eyes flooding. She threw her arms around his legs. "Oh my God Ronny, please forgive me, I'm so ashamed... I don't know what happened. I do... I'm a whore, I'm bad... go away, don't ever come back, Ronny. I didn't mean to do this to you. I'll never bother you again." It was almost stream of consciousness interspersed with sobs of despair. She ran from the room and he heard her sobbing, probably from her bedroom.