Chapter 1: The Home Coming

It had been a hot afternoon at the office and I felt relief on closing my front door. Sometimes my empty house can be a peaceful haven rather than a lonely place.

I need to shuck off my high heels and have a quiet soak in the bath; perhaps pamper myself a little and release the tension that goes with still being a single Mom at thirty.

In the kitchen I pour myself a large glass of white. I shed my blouse and skirt then quench my thirst on the tangy chardonnay. Now I'm ready to bathe. Then going to my room I suddenly pause at the open door; sensing someone's presence. I edge cautiously in and stare quite bewildered. For there, lying naked on my bed is Guy, my seventeen-year old son. His eyes are closed. He is ... masturbating! Suddenly he sees me and we are both stunned.

Then he burst out in pain, " Mother! ... how could you! ... spying on me ... when I'm ... like this?" he bitterly accused. His allegation hurt me and I went to him pleading, " Guy, no! You can't think that of me!" I sit by him; stroking his head and pleading further, "I had no idea you were travelling home today! Why, your college term hasn't even finished yet!"

His eyes searched my face for the truth. Then his gaze ran over my state of undress, causing puzzlement; then acquiescence.

"Well ... maybe so ... but all the same..." Placing his arm round my shoulder he explains, "I've really missed you this term; so I fiddled extra leave; but now I've been and made a fool of myself." He quietly stated. His face came to mine for a forgiving kiss. I put my lips to his but somehow he held that kiss longer than is decent; causing my pulse to quicken.

Suddenly I feel improperly dressed whilst in my bedroom with my naked son.

Breaking the silence I say lightly, " It's alright Guy, just a bit of bad timing from both of us I guess."

Guy closed his eyes and lay back calmly. But his hand held a pair of my panties? Had he been fantasising on me whilst wanking off? Surely not?

My gaze falls to his naked torso. I hadn't seen him nude in years. He certainly had matured recently. Now he had strong muscular thighs framing a gorgeous proud cock sheathed in a silky foreskin. My cunt began craving for it.

I'm tempted to touch him but then I realise he had witnessed my desiring gaze.

I meekly offer to get the kettle on for tea but as I turn to go he holds my arm.

"No don't go." he says stern but soft, "Help me. Help me finish."

I'm aghast at the suggestion yet my heart beats hard, " Guy! ... I cant ... do that!

He gazed at me with confidence saying levelly, "Just this once you can. It will show you weren't't spying on me; and that you do care."

I search his face frantically for direction. "Guy, I do care, but If I..."

His hand took mine and placed it around his shaft. Guiltily I hadn't resisted.

Against my ear he whispered," No one will know; just help me finish, that's all."

Fleetingly I knew we had just crossed a line together. It was indelible.

Now I whispered in reply, "Just close your eyes for me Guy. I can't do it if you watch me." And he did so.

My hand began with a tremble and I felt the perspiration run on my face.

His shiny brown foreskin was as soft as silk and when pulled back revealed a glistening strawberry head that just begged to be sucked. My tits tingled at that idea. My stroke built up a rhythm and his ecstatic moans gave the kind of thrill in my groin I'd forgotten. His tummy and thighs were tensing up.

His climax was close. His balls jerked and a jet of creamy juice splashed onto my arm and a second caught my cheek. Our cries of passion had chimed in unison. Guy soon slumped into a stupor of bliss. It's was over as suddenly as it had begun. I left him and made for the bathroom.

As I lie back and soak in the tub my mind runs through the thrill of those moments. Normally one climax is sufficient for me at bath time but I do three and it's still not enough.