Knowing that my fourteen-year-old son was not only sexually active, but that he’d seduced his English teacher, was ... well, it was more than a little weird. Maybe it would have been easier if she’d been more his own age - but she was actually older than I was!

I tried to see him through her eyes and had to admit that he was a very good-looking boy. He was also undeniably one of the nicest people you’d ever meet. I know, as his Mom, I would think that, but it was true - my friends often commented on it.

What had he seen in her, though? I’d met her, and she was reasonably attractive, and clearly kept herself in shape, but she was so much older than him, while his school was full of pretty little things his own age.

And then there was what his therapist, Helen Anderson, had said about there being nothing wrong with him. I couldn’t shift the nagging feeling that maybe something had happened between them as well. I’d have liked to have had more time to talk it over with my husband, Ted, but he’d been called away on some lawyerly emergency in New York just after Lucas’s therapy sessions had ended. With my daughter, Janice, away at college, I guess I was feeling a little lonely, so it was nice when Lucas began doing his homework on the kitchen table as I prepared dinner, giving us a chance to chat about our days.

One time, though, I was convinced that he was staring at my butt as I worked. I kept casually turning my head to check, but every time I did, he had his head down. I’d come to the conclusion that it was all in my imagination when he stood up to leave, and, just before he covered it with his books, I thought I saw a bulge in the front of his pants. A rather nice looking bulge, actually! When my eyes went guiltily up to his face, his were sparkling, and his smile ... God, it was like he could see what I was thinking!

A couple of nights later, I was in my room, brushing my hair, before getting ready for bed. I’d always worn my hair long, most of the way down my back, and my mother had taught me to brush it one hundred times before bed. Although it was apparently a myth, I still did it every night.

My door was open, and in the mirror I saw Lucas smiling at me as he walked past. Then he came back and knocked on the door frame.

“Come on in,” I said.

He came over and stood behind me. “Can I do that for you?” he asked.

A little surprised, but also pleased, I handed him the brush. “Fifty-seven,” I said.

“Sorry?”

“One hundred strokes a night, and I was up to fifty-seven,” I explained, feeling a bit foolish. But he didn’t question it.

He began to brush it, taking great care. Almost reverently, in fact. “I love your hair,” he said softly, gathering some in his hand to brush it through. The thing was that each time he did that, his fingers brushed my neck. I’ve always been very sensitive there, and it was very, very pleasant. It was also turning me on.

I was almost in a blissful, horny daze when he said, “One hundred, all done.” Then he gathered it all in his hands and let it cascade down my back.

“Night, night, Mom,” he said, and bent down and kissed me softly on the neck, just below my ear. A jolt of pure arousal coursed through me, setting me trembling.

“Night, night, sweetheart,” I managed to croak. Then, as he walked away, I saw that he was erect again. Very erect. I looked at myself and could see nothing that might have caused him to get excited. The only explanation that I could think of was that he’d somehow picked up on my arousal, but that wasn’t possible. Was it?

I was in the kitchen the following evening making dinner, and Lucas was tapping away at his laptop at the table. What had happened the night before was still playing on my mind, and once again I felt sure that he was looking at my butt as I worked. This time, I decided just to ask him straight out.

“Lucas?”

“Yes, Mom?”

“Are you checking out my ass?”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Why?”

“Because it’s beautiful.”

I turned my head and looked at him over my shoulder. “You think my ass is beautiful?”

A dazzling smile lit up his face. “As far as I can tell,” he told me, still running his eyes over my butt. “Why don’t we go to the beach?” he added casually.

I turned fully around and put my hands on my hips. “You just want to see my ass in bikini bottoms, don’t you?”

“I do,” he agreed amiably. “Or preferably out of them, actually,” he added with a simply salacious little grin.

A tremor of arousal went through me, and my clit began to tingle. “You shouldn’t be looking at me like that. Or thinking about me like that,” I told him, trying to be stern, but the edges of my lips kept trying to curl up.

“Is there some biological reason that looking at your ass shouldn’t make me feel good?” he asked innocently.

“Not biological, just legal. You do know that it’s illegal, right?”

“Me looking at your ass is illegal?” What a smart-ass, but it was quite funny, and I struggled not to laugh.

“Nooo, but what you’re thinking about doing with it is.” Oh, dear God - just saying that sentence had made several possibilities run through my mind, and I had to surreptitiously reach for the counter as my legs felt decidedly unsteady.

He opened his eyes and mouth wide. “Please tell me that you do not_ know what I’m thinking about doing to your ass,” he said with feigned, abject horror.

“Go and find something else to do, Lucas, you dirty boy.”

“OK, Mom,” he said, apparently happily, and stood up. My eyes flicked involuntarily to his groin, saw the outline of his erection, widened just a little, and then returned to his face. “See ya later,” he said, and then, just as he was leaving the room, added, “What you’re thinking about doing is probably illegal too, Mommy.” It was pitched just at a level that I might not be able to hear it. Or rather, I could plausibly deny being able to hear it.

“What was that?” I called after him.

“Nothing, Mom,” he yelled back.

For all my complaints about him looking at my ass, why had it made my nipples stand out like they were, the direct connection to my clit making the undeniable tingle down there almost irresistible.

I stood there trying to rationalize what had happened. It was a sexy conversation, so it wasn’t surprising that I’d gotten excited, especially with Ted having been away for four days. My collection of glass dildos only went so far in relieving my horniness, so it wasn’t too shocking that our conversation had turned me on so much. So, Mrs. Bradly, a traitorous part of my mind pointed out, what about your reaction to your son’s erection? Perfectly natural, I told it, resisting the urge to squeeze my thighs together to relieve the siren call of my tingling clit. Absolutely, perfectly natural.

We were sitting in the lounge a few days later. We’d been watching a show that we both liked, and afterwards I was reading a book, and Lucas was looking at his phone.

“How old were you when you lost your virginity?” he asked out of the blue. Actually, there had been a scene that had probably made him think of it. It was a bit of a personal question, but I saw no reason not to tell him.