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Well, this story has a different genesis than most of my work. It is based on an online chat conversation that an internet friend/reader of mine shared with me. You can, like me, speculate on whether this was fantasy or real — she swears it is, but as with most things on the internet, you either have faith or you do not — the great thing is, you get to chose whatever works for you. I have embellished it somewhat, adding the aspect of a webcam and any technical errors are solely my fault. I have never owned a webcam nor do I have time to chat (when would I have time to write?).
I will be interested to get your feedback, not only about the story, but about how I structured the story as well. And yes, somewhere down the line, there will be a more conventional sequel. This is a work of fiction, all characters are imaginary and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. I look forward to hearing from you — enjoy!
Isn’t the internet a wonderful thing? I mean, you have all this access to all kinds of information and entertainment and so many ways to communicate with people. I was pretty much computer illiterate until my son taught me and now I don’t know how I ever got along without it. My favorite thing is the chat sites. I joined one of the major chat sites and it was as if the whole word opened up for me. All these interesting people out there to meet and talk with — I quickly became hooked on chat and eventually it would change my life forever — but I’m getting ahead of my story. Let me introduce you to myself.
My name is Carmen and I’m 41 years old. My husband and I divorced many years ago and he left the area and we lost touch with him, which is no loss for me, but has been hard on our son, John. He missed having a father dearly, but I did the best I could to be a mother and a father to my son and I think he’s turned out okay. At the time of the events I will relate, John was a senior in high school, just turning eighteen. We live in a nice, but small house in a rural area of Indiana. I work as the manager of a flower shop and while we’re not rich, we do get by okay.
As I already said, I love the chat sites and came to make many friends online over the last few years. The best friend I ever made online is a woman named Donna from California. Like me, she is divorced and raising a son who was the same age as John. In our first conversation, we both laughed over and over as we kept replying to each other’s responses, “Me too!”
We kept tripping across each other in different chat rooms and just enjoyed talking to each other about everything (in between fending off the underage boys and the dirty old men that keep pestering us for cyber-sex). We found that we shared the same tastes in movies and music and that we had shared many of the same experiences growing up, despite me being from Indiana and her from California and Nevada.
It was like I found the sister I always dreamed of. Donna and I shared our relationship triumphs (far too few) and our relationship disasters (way too many). Through the ether of the internet, we wiped each other’s tears and cheered each other’s triumphs.
We were also proud mothers, bragging about our sons and their accomplishments as they made their way towards graduation and laughed and fretted about their own adventures with love as they went through puppy love and then first serious crushes and heartbreaks as well as their misadventures — Donna and I consoling each other when we had to punish them for some silly thing or another.
As time went on, Donna and I became so close in our internet chats, we found ourselves able to talk about the intimate details of our lives — almost no detail of our sex lives were kept back from each other, as we described the rare occasions we had lovers as well as what we liked sexually. We even admitted to becoming aroused talking about such things with each other and like a couple of giggling teenagers at a slumber party, we would masturbate together, describing our naughty fantasies as we fingered ourselves.
Late one night as we came down from mutual orgasms, Donna first broached a subject that would set our course towards a life changing event. As I slowly stroked my still throbbing pussy, my leg draped over the side of my chair, Donna asked me, (forgive me if this is awkward, but I’m not sure how else to write this).
Donna: WHEN JOHN HIT PUBERTY, DID HE EVER PEEK AT YOU?
Me: LOL, OF COURSE — HE’S A BOY. YOU KNOW HOW THEY ARE WHEN PUBERTY HITS THEM — LOL!
Donna: OH YES, SHANE WAS THE SAME WAY. I COULDN’T CLIMB OUT OF THE SHOWER OR CHANGE CLOTHES WITHOUT HIM BARGING IN!
Me: LOL, OH YES AND ALWAYS PEEKING AT ME WHEN I WAS OUT IN THE BACKYARD, SUNBATHING!
Donna: LOL — BET THAT WASN’T ALL JOHN WAS DOING!
Me: LOL — YOU KNOW IT! AND I IMAGINE SHANE WAS DOING THE SAME!
Donna: OMG! YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HIS CUMRAGS! I BET THAT BOY SHOT OFF FIVE TIMES A DAY!”
Me: SAME HERE LOL!
I felt ataköy escort my pussy tingle afresh as we talked about our boys peeking at us. This was naughty talk and it felt like nothing had before. Then Donna pressed me for more information.
Donna: DOES HE STILL PEEK AT YOU, CARMEN?”
I moaned a little, and a fresh trickle of juices oozed from my cunt as I slipped a finger inside, shivering a little as my labia clasped my probing digit. I remembered a moment a few weeks ago as I was drying off in the bathroom and John has walked in unexpectedly, finding me fully naked. We had gaped at each other for several seconds as he gawped at me. Then I managed to wrap the towel around me and told him I’d be finished in just a minute if he needed to pee. My son had fled the room, but not before I could make out a discernable bulge in his cutoff jeans.
It wasn’t the first time my son had “accidentally” walked in on me in the shower — over the years, he had caught me naked many times, but I wrote it off to a typical boy’s case of raging hormones. I paused before I continued to type. This was a little beyond anything we’d ever discussed before, but I considered Donna a good friend and I wanted to be honest.
Me: YESSSS. JOHN CAUGHT ME NAKED COMING OUT OF THE SHOWER JUST A COUPLE OF WEEKS AGO.
Donna: SHANE STILL PEEKS AT ME TOO. LAST SATURDAY I SAW HIM IN MY BEDROOM MIRROR PEEKING AT ME WHILE I WAS GETTING DRESSED.
Me: LOL — WHAT DID YOU DO??
Donna: YOU’RE GOING TO THINK I’M TERRIBLE!”
Me: WHAT? TELL ME, DONNA!
Donna: (BLUSHING HERE!) I GOT A LITTLE TURNED ON AND DECIDED TO TEASE HIM. JUST AS I FINISHED DRESSING, I ACTED LIKE I DIDN’T LIKE THE OUTFIT I PUT ON AND I SO I STRIPPED IT OFF.
Me: OMG! YOU DIDN’T!
Donna: I DID! EVEN CHANGED MY PANTIES AND BRA AND GAVE HIM A LITTLE SHOW WALKING AROUND THE ROOM NAKED!
I groaned a little and plunged three fingers into my pussy. I know I should have been horrified, but her words on the computer screen had me as wet as I could be. I was terribly aroused at the thought of my friend teasing her son. I guess I got focused for a moment on my own gratification because Donna had to prompt me.
Donna: CARMEN? ARE YOU STILL THERE? HAVE I OFFENDED YOU?
I hastily pulled my fingers from my throbbing cunt and without thinking, typed a response with my free hand while figuring out what to do with my dripping fingers. I giggled as I impulsively stuck them in my mouth and sucked my own cream off.
Me: I’M STILL HERE! NOT OFFENDED, DONNA, BUT A LITTLE TURNED ON!
Donna: WHEW — BREATHING A SIGH OF RELIEF HERE! I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT HAVE STOPPED TALKING TO ME. THIS TURNED YOU ON, CARMEN?
Me: OH GOD YES! YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE HOW WET YOU JUST MADE ME!
Donna: REALLY? BE HONEST NOW. DOES IT TURN YOU ON WHEN JOHN PEEKS AT YOU?
I shivered as I considered her question and was faced with the realization that I was about to confess to something that would be considered terrible by most people.
Me: MY TURN TO BLUSH, BUT YES, I GET EXCITED WHEN HE PEEKS AT ME! HE’S NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO RUNS OFF AND MASTURBATES!
Donna: LOL GLAD TO KNOW ITS NOT JUST ME! ARE WE A COUPLE OF TERRIBLE MOMS OR WHAT?
Me: I DON’T KNOW — MAYBE A COUPLE OF HORNY MOMS! LOL! THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS I GUESS WHEN YOU’RE AROUND A GOOD LOOKING YOUNG MAN ALL THE TIME!
Donna: CARMEN, HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED TEASING HIM?”
Me: MMMMM JUST IN MY FANTASIES!
I could not believe I just told her that! After the last bathroom incident, John had fled to his room, no doubt to masturbate, and I had done the same. I remembered lying on my bed, knees drawn up and spread wide as I finger fucked myself as I dreamed of parading around in front of my son in all sort of nasty ways.
Donna: I CANNOT BEGIN TO DESCRIBE HOW HOT IT MADE ME TO SHOW OFF LIKE THAT! I DON’T THINK MY PUSSY HAS EVER BEEN SO WET AND HOT! THERE WAS A RAGING INFERNO BETWEEN MY LEGS!
Like the one between my legs that was growing now. I gave up trying to type with both hands and returned two fingers to my sopping pussy.
Me: HAVE YOU DONE IT AGAIN SINCE THEN, DONNA? HAVE YOU WANTED TO?
Donna: I HAVEN’T, BUT YES, I HAVE WANTED TO. DO YOU THINK YOU COULD TEASE YOUR SON?
Me: OMG! I DON’T KNOW. I WISH I COULD BE THAT NAUGHTY AND BRAVE.
Donna: I WILL IF YOU WILL!
Me: WHAT! YOU ARE SO NAUGHTY, DONNA!
Donna: WHY DON’T WE BOTH BE NAUGHTY MOTHERS, SWEETIE! I KNOW YOU WANT TO!
Me: I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M EVEN TALKING ABOUT THIS! WHAT WOULD WE DO?”
Donna: I DON’T KNOW — MAYBE WE SHOULD BOTH FIND A WAY TO TEASE THE BOYS BETWEEN NOW AND TOMORROW NIGHT AND WE’LL TELL EACH OTHER WHAT WE DID. AGREED?
Me: I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M SAYING YES. SHOULD THIS BE NUDITY OR WHAT?
Donna: UP TO YOU, CARMEN, BUT I THINK WE CAN BE NAUGHTY TEASES WITHOUT GETTING BUCK NAKED, DON’T YOU?
Me: I WILL TRY. TALK TO YOU TOMORROW NIGHT THEN?
Donna: ataköy eve gelen escort OKAY. GOOD LUCK, CARMEN. I HAVE TO GET OFF HERE AND MASTURBATE FOR A WHILE! LOL!
Me: WAY AHEAD OF YOU, SUGAR! LOVE AND KISSES!
I clicked off the internet and focused on fingering myself. I felt like a wanton slut as I threw my other leg over the arm of the chair, leaving myself spread wide as I plunged three fingers in and out of my pussy while my other hand feathered over my swollen clitoris. I moaned through clenched teeth as I began to orgasm, trying not to get too loud and disturb my son who I hoped was asleep in his room next to mine.
I shivered and jerked as spasms of pleasure rippled though my body and a part of me wondered what my son might make of the new stains I was leaving on the cushion of my office chair. I was absolutely dripping wet — my cunt cream literally pouring out of me. When I could finally get up, I stumbled on to bed on shaky knees and fell asleep wondering what I had gotten myself into.
The next morning, I woke up after a night of strange, troubling yet arousing dreams — sex dreams of vague bodies joined together, my son’s face shifting in and out of view as I engaged in carnal act after carnal act with some unknown person. I felt like I hadn’t had a good orgasm in a month and that everything I did or touched triggered a sexual response, be it the pulsing energy of the shower or the way my skin felt as I slipped on a pair of plain cotton panties and a bra as I dressed.
As I raced around getting ready to go to work, I pondered how I was going to “tease” my son before ten o’clock tonight. I saw my son off to school, driving away in his second hand beater of a car and then racing off to work myself. I was preoccupied with the problem all day and kept screwing up flower orders and having to redo them.
When I walked into my house that afternoon, I was worn out. Who knew that being naughty could be such hard work? I trudged up to my room to change before cooking dinner. I shed the skirt I had worn and started to unbutton my blouse, but stopped halfway when I glanced in the mirror.
Now I think I’m pretty good looking for a woman of forty-one. I’m five foot, three inches tall, and maybe I could lose a few pounds, but I had a great little figure — my breast size being 36d, my tits look larger on my little frame and my legs are good. I wear my blonde hair long with just a hint of curls and I have blue eyes. I know my son loves to peek at me and who could blame him, I thought to myself. I’m still a cutie!
I took off my blouse and undid my bra, admiring my still relatively firm breasts, cupping them as I looked at myself in the mirror, my large button nipples getting hard as I brushed them with my fingers. I shed my plain cotton panties and slipped on thong panties, turning to admire my firm tush and giving my butt a little shake as I looked at my bare cheeks. I slipped back into my blouse — a dress shirt really, leaving my bra on the floor. The bottoms came down to about mid thigh, exposing plenty of leg. I left several buttons undone and bent over to experiment, looking into the mirror to confirm that in that position, anyone could look right down my blouse and get a great view of my tits hanging down. “I can’t believe you’re doing this, Carmen!” I muttered to myself, giving myself one last glance in the mirror.
I went back downstairs and got started on dinner. Overall, I wasn’t dressed that differently than I might have been usually. I often ran around the house in a blouse or nightshirt and panties. Of course, I usually had a bra on as well as plain and functional white cotton panties. It would be interesting to see how long it took my eighteen year old son to notice.
John came bounding in a little before six o’clock from baseball practice. “Hi, Mom! Wow, something smells great! What’s for dinner?”
I felt my heart begin beating a little faster as I turned from the sink and faced my son. I know I’m not objective about my own flesh and blood, but I think John is a handsome young man. He towers over his short mother, standing just a hair shy of six feet and has lost most of his youthful slimness, his chest and arms becoming that of a man. He has an unruly shock of black hair that he inherited from his maternal grandfather and my own blue eyes.
“Hey, sweetheart. Got a pot roast cooking in the oven, it will be maybe another thirty minutes. Why don’t you go clean up, grab a shower and I’ll have dinner on the table when you get back downstairs.” I walked up to him and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, aware that he was staring intently at me as I crossed the room. I wondered how visible my nipples might be against the white material of my blouse as I leaned into him and stood on tip-toe to kiss him, pressing my unfettered breasts against his hard body. He had been practicing hard and I felt a little dizzy as I smelled his sweat and musk.
He seemed a little ataköy grup yapan escort flustered as I moved away and without looking back, I could feel his eyes crawling over my body. “Um — yeah, sure thing, Mom.”
I walked to the stove and bent over to open the oven door, knowing full well that my blouse would rise and expose my practically naked ass cheeks. I turned and smiled at my son, who stood rooted in the doorway, half in and half out of the room, staring at my ass. “Hurry up, John. You don’t want to keep your mother waiting!” I turned my attention back to the roast in the oven, not hearing the floorboards creak for several more seconds and I knew my son’s eyes were glued to my ass. Only when I closed the oven door did I hear him walk away.
I leaned against the counter top, my whole body shaking from the tension. I felt like a hot furnace was between my legs and I could barely stand. The crotch of my panties was absolutely soaked and I was sure that if I looked down, the light blue of the material would be completely dark with my juices. I so wanted to touch myself, but I think I would have had an orgasm on the spot.
John returned downstairs just as I pulled the roast out of the oven. His hair was wet from his shower and his t-shirt and gym shorts molded against his still damp skin, showing off his muscular body. I told him to have a seat while I fixed our plates. He sat at our kitchen table, his chair against the wall so he was facing the entire kitchen. Again, I could feel his eyes on me as I moved around the room. I fixed him a heaping plate of roast, potatoes and vegetables that would match a hungry man’s appetite. I took a deep breath, turned around and brought it to the table. The easiest thing would have been to moved to his side and set the plate down, but I came to the side opposite my son and leaned over the table to hand him his plate.
I could see his eyes widen in surprise as I leaned over and let him see down my partly unbuttoned blouse. I took my time, setting his plate down with deliberate slowness and then fiddling with his cutlery while letting my son eyeball my heavy breasts, hanging down like full milk udders, nipples swollen and long.
“This looks great, Mom!” John sighed as he took in the view, his eyes never straying from my open blouse.
“I’m glad you like it, son,” I said quietly back, feeling my face burn. “I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”
John smiled and nodded, saying, “Oh yeah, Mom, so do I.” I wanted to giggle so badly from our double entendres. I stood up and returned to the counter to fix my own plate. We both ate in silence, giving each other odd looks as we cleaned up our plates. I wondered what was going through my son’s mind after my little display.
I was scared and aroused all at the same time, and struggled to keep my composure. I was also curious as to the effect that I was having on my son and when I was finished, I “accidentally” dropped my fork and leaned over to pick it up, glancing under the table where I was rewarded with a good view of the enormous lump in John’s gym shorts.
John offered to help me with the dishes afterwards, but I said, “Do you have homework?”
My son nodded resignedly. “Oh yeah, Gilbert is killing us in Literature class and I have a Calculus quiz tomorrow.”
I told him to get to his work, but agreed to let him do his work at the kitchen table when he suggested it. “If you’re sure I won’t be bothering you while I clean up in here.” I said.
John smiled and shook his head. “You will never be a bother to me, Mom!”
So, while my son spread out his work on the kitchen table, I did the dishes, foregoing the dishwasher and doing them in the sink. As I cleaned up, I found several reasons to bend over to put this away or check for that in a bottom cupboard. I stood on tiptoe to set the dishes in their place, well aware that John was eyeballing my ass cheeks and wondering if he could see the wet crotch of my panties.
I doubt my son got very much studying done while I slowly straightened up the kitchen. I paused at one point when he asked for help on a calculus problem and leaned over next to him, well aware that, while my eyes were on the textbook page, his eyes were focused on the gaping front of my blouse. I hadn’t a clue about how to help him, but lingered beside him for a few minutes, making stupid suggestions and savoring the sinful sensation of exposing myself to my son.
I finally left him to his studying, but not before one last naughty tease. I poured him a glass of soda and put a few cookies on a plate and as before, leaned across the table and set them in front of him. “Just in case, you wanted to nibble on something, John.” I said, taking my time and giving him one last long look.”
My son’s eyes gleamed with lust as he replied, “Thanks, Mom. This was the best dinner ever!”
I hurried upstairs and behind closed doors, I masturbated furiously while I thought about my son, his cock and all the wonderful places he could put it in. My panties were a dripping mess- I could have wrung my juices out of them I was so turned on.
I tried to wait till ten o’clock, but I found myself online an hour earlier, hoping that Donna might try and log in early and I almost shouted with glee when I saw her nickname surface in the chat room.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32