Chapter 6

One of my best online friends reminded me of something I had shared with him a while back, during the time I was wrestling with the entire Jason situation. I can't believe I had put it out of my mind, as it was a source of quite a bit of guilt for me. I've pretty much let it go now, but thinking about past events tells me that this should be part of my relating these events. Jason was probably eleven when this happened for the first time.

I've always been one to burn the candle at both ends. Hubby on the other hand, is not. He's usually in bed early and he sleeps until the alarm goes off in the morning. That often leaves me the only one up at night. I'd like to go to sleep earlier, or have a reason to go to bed earlier (like getting fucked silly by a horny husband), but it just doesn't work that way. At night I usually end up reading, bumming around online or trying to find something on TV.

On the night I'm thinking of, Jason wanted to stay up with me. I let him watch some family-oriented movie with me on the couch until he fell asleep. Rather than wake him and drag him to bed, I let him sleep while I finished the movie. I was just about to rouse him when to my surprise, something very adult-oriented come on TV right after the family-fare. Good old cable TV. It was some tour of strip clubs or something. I decided I would just watch for a minute to see if anything interesting would appear. Within a few moments there were gorgeous women on the screen and being strippers, they were taking their clothes off. I thought about turning it off, but it had caught my interest. I just had to see what that girl's boobs looked like out of their holster. I listened closely to Jason's breathing to make sure he was still asleep. He was. I gave a tentative look around the room, down the hall, etc. No one was stirring ... except my naughty libido.

After the second or third girl had done her turns at the poles I realized I was getting aroused. My first instinct was, "Change the channel, right now." But I didn't. I sat there and kept watching. Then my right hand started fiddling with the front of my t-shirt, then lightly touching my boobs. A minute later it was wandering down to my crotch. When I realized I was actually considering touching myself with my son asleep right next to me ... up against me even, I shook my head in disgust with myself. A big load of guilt fell down from the sky and onto my shoulders. I felt like an incredibly guilty pervert. But even that didn't make me change the channel.

I waited, and the guilt passed. A new girl came on the screen who was even more enticing than the first few. My hand continued its path and soon it was between my legs, which were now spread apart a bit. I first gently caressed myself from outside my pajama bottoms, but that didn't last long. Soon my naughty mitt was passing the boundary of my panties and moving toward full contact. I was touching my now wet pussy, watching a gorgeous woman swing her beautiful ass around on TV, and my young son was there with me.

To bring my depravity to a new level, I did something that seemed even more horrible to me, as well it should have. (And yet I still did it.) I've only ever told one person about it ... the online friend I mentioned, who doesn't have the benefit (misfortune?) of knowing who I am in real life. While my right hand was starting to work the area, my left hand, which was resting on my son's shoulder, on top of the blanket that covered him, began to move under the blanket. I first encountered his t-shirt. It was warm under the blanket. I softly rubbed his back. It felt so nice to have physical contact while I was diddling. I do that in bed with sleeping Hubby most every morning. But this wasn't my sleeping Hubby.

As my excitement (and lubrication) grew, my left hand inevitably began pulling my son's shirt up. And before long, I was touching his smooth, warm, bare skin. Only a few times have I had such well balanced pleasure and guilt in the same moment. I tried to assuage my feeling of perversion by telling myself that I wasn't actually having sexual feelings about Jason, which was true at the time. My desire was focused on the pretty-but-slutty stripper I was watching, and on my own wanting cunt. But regardless, there was no getting away from the fact that I was masturbating with one hand and lovingly caressing my son with the other.

Even though I was in the throes of ecstasy, I paid close attention to my son's movements and breathing to make sure he wasn't waking up. He stirred once or twice, but that was it. I didn't put the time into playing with my pussy that I normally would, for obvious reasons. Nor did I make any audible sounds as I was nearing orgasm. But I did have one great cum with one hand harassing my clitoris and one rubbing my boy's back and shoulders (and lower back, which was as far as I could reach and I hope as far as I would consider reaching).

After I shuddered and came down from the mountain top I just sat there feeling warm all over. Finally when my heart stopped racing and my breathing normalized (and my pussy stopped throbbing), I wiped my right hand on my jammies, slid myself out from under my son, jostled him awake gently, then led him to his room and tucked him in bed. I then went to the bathroom for final clean-up before retiring to bed myself, at which point the guilt hit me like a ton of bricks and I cried myself to sleep.

The worst part (I guess) is that I let this happen another time with Jason. Although that time I had to actually look for something sexy to watch. In other words, I sought out softcore porn to get me aroused intentionally, while my son slept next to me. And again my hand roamed over his wonderful skin. And not only that, but I did the same with Megan once as well. But as she's not as tall as Jason, my wicked hand was able to reach her crack ... damn. No wonder I continue to be the slut that I am. And no wonder the apple that is my daughter has fallen not far from the Mommy Tree.

"Mom?" Megan said, snapping me out of my impromptu daydream. "Did you hear me?"

"Hmm?" I mumbled. "I'm sorry Meg. What?"

"Mom, you heard me. I asked if you slept with Jason."

I came to talk to her feeling so confident ... so ready for full disclosure. Suddenly I had lost my nerve.

"Oh, Honey," I said meekly, "it's really complicated."

"Seriously? Mom, you just told me we were going to be totally honest with each other."

"You're right, Meg. You're right. It's just that it's not as simple as a yes or no answer."

"What does that mean, Mom?"

"Ugh... ," I grunted. "I ... this isn't easy, Megan."

"I understand," she replied. "How about if you tell me what happened a little at a time. Can you do that?"

"Worth a try, I guess. How do you want to start?"

"Umm ... tell me ... did you do more than kiss Jason?"

"Yes. Yes I did."

"Really? Did ... did he ever see you without your top on?"

"Yes, Megan. He did."

"Did you... ," Megan began.

I immediately thought this one-thing-at-a-time thing was going to be torturous. But then I had an idea.

"Hold on a second, Meg. I think fair is only fair here. If you're going to ask me all these questions, I think I get to ask some too. How about if we take turns?"

She paused to think it over.

"Sure. That seems fair."

"O.K.," I said. "You said you're not sexually active, right?"

"Right," Megan replied.

"But what does that mean?"

"What does it mean to you, Mom?"

"I guess it means you either have or not had sex ... intercourse."

"I figured that's what you meant. So the answer is still 'no.'"

"Wait a minute, Megan. Are you saying you've done other things?"

"Mom, if you're asking if a guy has put it inside me, it's 'no.'"

"Fingers?" I almost gasped when I heard myself say this.

"Mom!" she seemed almost as taken aback as I was. "You're really gonna just go for it, huh?"

She didn't seem put-off by my question, although I think I was, even though she had just asked if I had fucked my own son. Still, I couldn't believe I had just blurted that out.

"You really want to know that, huh?"

"I ... I asked it, so I guess so," I said fairly meekly.

"MMmmm ... yes," she said ponderously.

I didn't know what to say in response to that one.

"I think it's my turn," Megan said.

"I ... fine," I said, still suffering from a lack of words. I thought she was going to throw it right back at me, but her next question wasn't too bad.

"How did all that happen with Jason ... whatever it was that happened ... that eventually you're going to tell me?"

"I think I told you how it happened."

"You told me Dad got turned on by Jason looking at you. You didn't tell me any more than that."