Goodness me. I backed silently from his room, hoping I didn’t disturb the sound of silence. Would this be a vision that would softly creep upon me whilst I was sleeping? Would I welcome darkness as an old friend? His hand moving, ever faster, his eyes closed, porn playing through his headphones, images on his screen, the room silent save the sound of moving skin.

No Mum should see her son, his hand on his dick, his foreskin flashing back and forth, his seed erupting as he lost himself in silence to the pleasures of the sin. I could not unsee it, and I would not forget it, as, later that night, I will lie in my bed, and the visions will be planted in my brain, creeping as I try sleeping.

I went into my bedroom and shut my door, my hand pressing my crotch, the visions of my son masturbating burnt into my brain, never to be erased. I had finished the laundry and was just taking up his clothes and, without thinking, went into his room. He was lying on his bed, his trousers and underpants around his ankles, his shirt unbuttoned, his chest bare.

Porn playing on his TV screen, the sounds through headphones into his head, his eyes closed, unseeing, ears only listening, the room had been silent, and then the silence was broken, the sound of fast-moving flesh, the beat of a hand on skin, the gasps of arousal, his buttocks clenching as I watched mesmerised.

This was his moment, his time, not to be shared. onanism is that, solitary, not for a parent to observe, to critique, and certainly not to enjoy. His hand pulled his foreskin down hard, the membrane attaching it to his shaft white with the strain, his glans purple and glistening in its exposure.

As my hand pressed at my crease, the visions I had softly seen yet burnt in my mind played back and forth, my pleasures began to flow as I replayed the sin I had watched, the silence in my room disturbed by the rustle of fabric as I pulled up my dress, my hand seeking solace inside my knickers, fingers in my crease, pressing my button, tensions rising, gasps echoing in the silence, my gasps.

I fell to the bed, hands wrenching down my underwear, the cool of the bedroom air wafting over me, my valley feeling as if it were a river of fire. My fingers caressed my nubbin, slid along my soaking wet channel, seeking my entrance, pushing, penetrating, stretching, and widening for the dick that should not be there, yet in my imagination it was.

My pleasures flowed through me, tensions growing, my bottom tightening, heels scrabbling on the bed as my mind had my son shafting me, his dick in and out like a piston, and as I screamed a release, I could feel his seed pumping into me. I lay exhausted, mentally drained and with my eyes closed, I dozed.

“Mum, Mum, are you in there?” His voice cut through my sleep, and as I slowly opened my eyes, I saw my door open and my son Mik look in, me, half naked on my bed, my dress up and my fanny exposed, Mik’s eyes wide and staring.

“Hang on, baby, I was just having a nap; I’ll be down in a minute,” I said, realising what he had seen, what he should not have seen, my bare-naked fanny, glossy with my secretions. He could not, thank goodness, see what had been in my brain, the images so wrong that they would make a pole dancer blush.

I got off the bed and went into the ensuite and washed my fanny, trembling again as I dried myself with the towel, the fibres arousing as they brushed over me. I dressed and went downstairs and found him getting a glass of water in the kitchen.

“What did you want, baby?”

“Will you run me into town, Mum? I need to get some more Warhammer figures from Games Shop.”

“Okay baby, yes, are you ready now? We can grab lunch at ‘spoons’ if you like. Oh, and I have some laundry for you upstairs.”

“Perfect Mum, yes.”

I locked the back of the house and checked all the windows were shut and opened the front door. Mik came hurrying out and went to the car. I blipped the remote, and the car unlocked. I double-locked the house front door and went round to the car driver’s seat, and we were ready for the off.

“I didn’t mean to come into your room when you were like that, Mum,” Mik said, a sort of apology in his voice.

“No worries, I was just having a nap, baby.”

“Do you normally nap with your dress up and your knickers down?”

“Well, it would appear so, and anyway, my bedroom door was shut, unlike yours.”

“Oh. You saw?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Is that why...”

“No, baby, seeing you did not make me feel anything I shouldn’t; I just feel asleep is all.”

“It kind of looked like you were doing what I was doing.”

“Looks can be deceiving, sweetheart. Look, let’s not have too big a lunch; your dad will still want his dinner when he gets in from work.”

“If he had seen you the way I did, he would want more than his dinner,” Mik said, laughing. I couldn’t say much, and we rode the rest of the way in silence.

Later that night as I lay silently in bed waiting for Paul to come in from the ensuite, I could not help but think of Mik and what I had seen earlier, and when Paul walked into the bedroom, I was overcome.

“Come here, darling, I need something,” I said, looking at his soft dick swaying between his thighs.

His dick began to stiffen as he thought of the words I had used and what they could mean. He came and knelt beside me on the bed, my eyes fixed on his dick, watching it grow, watching it go from soft to hard on just a few words from me.

“I want to watch you,” I said, “lay next to me.”

“Crumbs, okay,” he said and climbed over me, his dick swaying up and down as he crossed, and then he lay on his back beside me. I passed him the lubricant, and he pulled his foreskin back and then squirted the gel on his glans and rubbed his finger and thumb over the end of his dick, spreading the lube until his glans was shining and glossy.

He passed the lube back and then settled on the bed, his thighs apart, a hand at each side. His left arm raised, and he circled his nipple as his right hand slowly reached down and held his dick, the hand moving slowly up and down, his foreskin slightly moving, slipping with the lube.

Paul increased his grip, his fingers whitened, and then his foreskin began to move further and further along his shaft, his glans disappearing behind his hand as he reached to the top of his stroke, reappearing as his hand pressed hard into his pubis, slow, steady strokes. I rolled to my side and moved down the bed, my face now by his hips, watching closely as my husband did what my son had done earlier.

He began to go faster, the sound of his fist hitting his pubis cracking as slaps, echoing, breaking the silence, his breath getting deeper and louder. He began to groan slightly, small mumbles interspersing the groans, my eyes seeing my son, my brain juxtaposing him, his imprint on the reality before me.

My eyes were half closed, and I watched Paul get faster and faster, the slaps getting louder, my brain seeing Mik, my ears hearing the words I heard earlier, ‘Oh, Mum, oh, Mum, yes,’ and my fingers sliding between my plump sensitive petals as my husband played to a tune in his head as I watched my son masturbate by proxy.

Paul held his dick down, hard, his foreskin straining, and as I watched the small opening in the end, his spunk shot out, squirting, landing on his thigh. He pushed up and pulled down again, more spunk, not as high a jet as the first spurt, and then again, and then again, and Paul let go, his moment finished.

I leant across and licked his thigh, sucking in his spunk, loving the flavour of his cream, and then took his softening dick in my mouth and cleaned it, my eyes seeing Mik’s dick, not my husbands. Paul gasped, and his dick began to stiffen. I love the feeling of a dick hardening inside me; the pulse, the throb, just works for me in a way nothing else does.

Paul pulled my head away and kissed me, my spunk-coated tongue seeking his as his fingers delved between my petals.

“God, you are so wet,” he said as he covered me, his dick sliding along my valley before nestling at my entrance. I reached down and gripped his dick and pushed, starting him, his pelvis completing the motion, his dick slowly filling me, widening me the way my fingers couldn’t, his foreskin sliding inside my fanny as he reached my depth.