RIGHTS AND WRONGS

We all make mistakes in life and sometimes there's hell to pay, sometimes heaven. You know, I'm not sure which bill was presented to me? Probably the wrong one...

Putting it simply, I got caught out, caught by surprise. I was totally out of my depth and in many ways I still am... but I guess I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'm no brave, bold woman who knows her own mind and always make sure she gets what she wants. I'm shy – honestly. This thing is taking the form of a confession for me, and this is the fifth attempt I've made to get the words down. It's not that they've come out wrong before, it's just that I've got too shy seeing them and simply chickened out from writing more. Not this time, I promise (not that you'd read that if I chicken out again, of course!).

Still here for once...

It started on a dull Saturday morning, the weather as grey as our mangy old cat, and I was in one of those moods when all I wanted to do was get the bills paid online before embarking on a round of super-serious house cleaning. As usual, the online sites were being as co-operative as ever and I had spent more than twenty minutes trying to settle a pitifully tiny account with the telephone company – it would have been quicker to go visit their head office carrying a bagful of loose change. I was busy tearing a few blonde hairs – naturally blonde, I might add – from my stressed head when my teenage son, Ben, slouched into the room. At eighteen he was lanky, lazy and would have made a perfect doorstop if I could have convinced him to stay still for more than five minutes at a time where I needed him to be.

Ben was a perfect son, of course – what mother's son isn't – but drove me to distraction. His endless pacing around the house, normally with his iPod plugged into his never-visible ears, was distracting, to be sure, but then he would settle on the couch or his bed and remain immobile to the point where I was often tempted to prod his seemingly lifeless body to see if there would be a reaction. The teenage years were stretching into their fourth decade (it seemed) and for the last few years he had done little other than grow some very fluffy facial hair and extended his vocabulary to almost double figures.

I lie, of course. Ben was, when he wanted to be, a passionate speaker on a wide range of subjects – it's just that those times seemed to be several years apart. He was due to go off to university at the end of the Summer vacation, but I seriously worried that it would take him another few months before he would be able to ask directions. Don't get me wrong though – I do tend to exaggerate – because he'd grown from a boy to a young man in seemingly no time at all. He was now taller than me, wider than me and had a rakish attractiveness that, I hate to admit, provoked a tiny bit of jealousy in me despite our gender difference.

Despite my network frustrations that morning, I wasn't entirely disappointed to see him wander, yawning, into the room. "Hey, Ben, it's only eleven o'clock, what rattled you out of bed?"

"Couldn't sleep with all the banging down here."

I looked down at my keyboard and tried not to imagine just how loud I had been hammering at it during the past half an hour, "I wasn't that loud, surely?"

"Ma, you were hitting that thing harder than Ian Paice ever hit the anything."

That was typical of Ben – I'm sure he knew full well that a reference to the Deep Purple drummer was likely to stop me in whatever tracks I'd been about to embark on. And it worked. Rather than proclaim my innocence I started to explain myself instead, "I've just been trying to pay the phone bill and you wouldn't believe how frustrating this site is."

"Somewhere around eight on the Richter scale," he nodded.

"Well you wouldn't keep your calm if you'd been trying to do it!"

Ben shuffled over to my shoulder and looked down at the screen, "Doesn't look too complicated to me."

"Well it is," I assured him, "every time I click on the 'settle account' button it loops around and just shows me their latest special offers."

He reached down and moved the mouse pointer over to another 'settle' button that, I hate to admit, I hadn't seen in all the minutes I had been clicking away, "Try that one."

I clicked the mouse and the screen dissolved into a 'pay now' array. "Oh," I said.

"See, ma? They just put the other one there to..."

He paused and I assumed he was just searching for a few polite words to use instead of the ones that must have sprang readily to mind.

"Um, yeah, they, er, just want you to... to see all they sell. Make you, er, tempted."

"Well, thanks, I guess. And sorry for the noise."

Ben cleared his throat, his mouth close to my right ear, "I'll, er, just stay here and make sure everything else goes okay if you like?"

I shrugged, trying not to show my gratitude. This wasn't like the churlish Ben at all, but I wasn't about to turn away the offer of a security blanket in case I ended up re-mortgaging the house or paying several thousand to the phone company, "That'd be great," I said, "and I'll sort out some breakfast... lunch when I'm done, okay?"

He cleared his throat again and I hoped he wasn't coming down with a cold, "Sure, ma, that'd be... um, great."

It was reassuring to have him standing over my shoulder and I managed to make the payment – the correct payment – in just a couple of minutes, and with only two diversions into the 'special offers' page. I sat back as far as I could with Ben behind me and smiled a tad triumphantly, "All done. Want some lunch now?"

"Um, what? Oh, er, yeah. I'll just... go up to my room for a coupla minutes if that's good?"

"Go on then. I'll give you a call when it's ready."

He disappeared with more speed than he normally showed when someone asked him to help with the cleaning, but that suited me fine. Our kitchen was 'compact' according to the guy that had sold me the property and it was clear he must have been a cat-lover – there was certainly no room to swing one – and with Ben upstairs I had just about enough room to fix a quick snack.

I walked into the little room and bent to retrieve some bacon from my small fridge. And stopped in a half-crouch. My blouse – a nice, summery thing in light, white cotton – was only buttoned at the very bottom of the bodice and gaped wide. It was, as I said, a Saturday, and I almost never wore a bra at home during the weekends. This weekend was no exception, and my fairly small – but still not gravitationally-challenged – breasts were plainly visible. My mind worked overtime. I had been sitting in front of my computer just like that and Ben, unusually for him, had stood and made sure I didn't click the wrong things.

He had stood just behind my shoulder, staring down at the computer screen. Or at least, staring down. Looking at what I was looking at now, maybe. But surely my own son wouldn't... I mean, he'd never look at me like that, would he? That couldn't be the reason he had so unusually waited for me to pay the bill, surely?

But he was still just about a teenager. He had another fifteen months before his twentieth and teenagers would look at... No, he couldn't have done. Surely?

I stood up and fumbled the three buttons into their buttonholes. I straightened the front of the blouse. I didn't for a second feel anything but vague horror.

I'm shy, right? I told you that. I didn't – wouldn't, couldn't – feel anything stirring deep within me. Any feeling that amounted to a flutter of excitement at the thought of being seen so accidentally exposed that way... I couldn't honestly feel that, could I?

I threw the packet of bacon onto the granite-effect counter, barely remembering to thank the deity of kitchens that it didn't cause the granite-effect to ripple or tear. I wasn't feeling anything bad or wrong. Ben might have – might have – seen down my blouse and kept looking, but that was purely a natural teenage reaction to bare flesh and no more, right? I couldn't blame him for that or myself for something that was entirely accidental. And I wasn't really feeling anything except mild shame, was I? Really.

It was over and done, a silly accident, and I wasn't even allowing myself to believe that he really had looked, had he? I mean, he wouldn't, would he? Not staring down at his own mother's bared breasts... no, he had been entirely focused on the computer. He wouldn't have even noticed my state of dress, right?

And I wasn't – just wasn't – feeling anything deep inside.

He hadn't even noticed the blouse, I was suddenly sure. And I was so glad. He would have said something. He will be just normal when he comes back down for his lunch.

That's what ran through my mind as I took bread from a pack and toasted it. As I fried the bacon, added some fresh lettuce and processed cheese to the sandwich, and finally added the bacon. I blanked my mind of all but the food, and never thought once about how I would react when Ben came down.

I called to him and then focused on the doorway, the sandwich on a plate in my right hand. His footsteps were none too slow on the stairs and he appeared in record time. Not a good sign. His eyes, though, gave the game away.

Ben's baby-blues were focused below my neck even before he set foot in the kitchen. They lingered on my blouse for more than a second – which sounds so quick when you say it like that, but which seemed like hours to me right then – before flicking up to my face and then quickly switching to the plate.

"Thanks, ma," he said, taking the plate.

"You're welcome," I managed, turning away just the second I had released his lunch.

*****

It was a long afternoon for me, and all because of that one second when Ben's eyes had focused on what had earlier been a rather different view of me. No matter how I argued with myself, no matter what excuses I managed to arrive at – human nature even being one of them – I couldn't in the end deny that he must have looked earlier. And that there had been a flicker of disappointment on my boy's face when he had come into the kitchen and saw that I was properly covered.

He had looked at me, looked at my naked breasts, when he was pretending to help with my online bill payment, and he had looked again when he'd come down for his lunch, disappointed to see that I was now all buttoned up.

While he munched his way through his lunch he had avoided all eye contact with me, had been quiet even by his own normally taciturn standards. The plate, when empty, had been washed, dried and stored in its rack in record time before Ben had dashed from the room back up to his own territory.

I was almost one hundred percent sure that what I had believed happened – his ogling of me – had really occurred. I didn't exactly blame him as such but I found it shocking, alarming in a way, and so highly inappropriate. The flicker of feeling deep in my stomach was, I was sure, a hangover from my younger years when the 'tease and dare' had been a fun-filled time with Ben's own father in our early twenties.

I paced the small house – the downstairs section, anyway – and tried to work out just how close I was to that one hundred percent certainty mark. By the time the clock ticked noisily through five o'clock I had convinced myself that there was still a margin of doubt, and by six it had grown to somewhere in the region of double figures, percentage-wise.

But I had also convinced myself that, somehow, some way, I needed to know for sure. It sounds vaguely stupid now, but can you really, honestly blame me?

It had nothing to do with how I looked – fit, I considered, for my age – and nothing to do with me in any other way, excepting, possibly, how I might best ensure that my modesty was maintained in the months before Ben left for university. I just needed to know if I was right about my son, and, if I was, then just how odd and almost creepy was the whole scenario?

Overcoming my technophobia I spent an hour Googling site after site trying to find out what other people thought, whether other mothers had been required to face up to such things – all the time, my ears pricked higher than a rabbit's in case Ben decided to leave his pit (or room, if you prefer) and interrupt me.

A lot – most – of the sites were clearly populated by fakes and wishful thinkers, the majority, I was sure, young guys fantasising. But even that in its own right was pause for thought – there were so many fantasists out there, surely? I even tried a few stories and some horrifying – but clearly staged – video postings.

By seven-thirty I was sitting back, thinking that there were a whole lot more incidences of fantasy, and maybe even reality, when it came to the mother-son thing than I would ever have imagined possible. But I still wasn't completely convinced about Ben on any level, and I still felt a compulsion to somehow find out for sure. There wasn't even anyone I could talk to about it – always assuming that I could get over my innate shyness long enough to utter such horror.

Deep down, I knew it wouldn't be difficult to work out the truth of the situation, and I knew I could ignore any feelings of any sort that passed through me if I was to do this. While I had been clicking away, the top button of my blouse had slid open of its own accord and I realised that the ones below must have done the same that morning when I was frantically clicking. I stretched my arms wide and sure enough a second button popped open.

I looked down and saw the swell of my small breasts. I used trembling fingers to open a third button so that the blouse gaped just as it had that morning and stared at my now fully bared breasts, the nipples bright pink and this time rather hard. If I stayed like that and pretended not to notice, called Ben down for some supper... well, then I would know by the direction his gaze took, right? And it was no more than I had accidentally showed earlier, no greater crime.

Except this would be no accident. But of course, to Ben it would be, wouldn't it?

I stood and went through to the kitchen, opened two pizza boxes and slipped the contents onto pizza trays. My mind was entirely on automatic as I turned on the oven and waited until it was hot enough to slip the pizzas inside. I poured a large, neat vodka and drained the glass in one long swallow. Then I replenished the tumbler and stood with my back against the counter, waiting for the pizzas to cook.

*****

I could barely think as the clock noisily, but desperately slowly, clicked off the minutes. All I could focus on was the facts that I needed to appear as if I had no clue as to how my blouse was gaping open and that I needed to make sure I followed his every reaction, his every look. The time arrived and I slid the pans out of the oven, quickly slicing the pizzas a sliding them onto plates. Without a further thought I called up the stairs, telling my Ben to come down for supper. As the floorboards above my head creaked to announce my son was beginning his journey I splashed some water on the floor and knelt down with a hastily grabbed cloth and a bowl to mop up the mess. There was no way I was going to chance my weirdly attired appearance looking like anything other than a complete accident.

That still didn't stop me almost swallowing my tongue when he shuffled into the room.

"Y... your supper's on the side there."

"Thanks, ma. You spill something?"

He might have been university bound, but that didn't stop him stating the obvious sometimes, "Just a glass of water," I managed. I wrung the cloth out into the bowl then threw it into the sink just above my head. I took a deep breath, then another. Then I stood up, placing the bowl on the counter, and before I could chicken out, turned to face my son. "I hope meat feast is good for you?"

"It's fu... fine."

His eyes were fixed on my blouse, on my barely covered breasts, and I felt my insides turn to jelly. I knew he could still prove his relative innocence by pointing out my 'accidental' exposure. But I also knew that if he said nothing about it, if he continued to enjoy the view then that would just prove something else entirely. He fumbled a slice of pizza up to his mouth and took a small bite. But he didn't say anything about my exposed flesh, my supposedly inadvertently gaping top.

"Pizza hot enough?" I managed, my head starting to swim.

Ben swallowed noisily, his eyes barely flicking away from my front as he managed to nod, "Well hot."

"Good. You eating that down here with me?"

He nodded, taking another highly distracted bite, "You bet."

I pushed a stool towards him, my mind not just swimming now, but thrashing around like a mad thing. I sat up on the room's other stool and still – still – made no effort to 'realise' the wardrobe malfunction had occurred, "Well that's good then. Enjoy!"

I'd thought about things so hard during hours and hours that afternoon but I had totally ignored the odd, barely felt feeling in the pit of my stomach. Now it flared like a camera flash. Ben was pretending not to notice my revealing blouse and its contents, and as I took a bit of my own pizza I glanced down at his shorts – he was wearing a faded pair of running shorts and an even more faded t-shirt – and saw a distinct bulge. He wasn't just looking, he was enjoying the view.

After all my research during the previous few hours that didn't really shock me. It was unexpected but no longer a shock. What did shock me was the way my body – and my mind – reacted to my son's obvious excitement. I was, quite suddenly, feeling the most intense arousal. It was quite unlike anything else I had ever experienced before, a deep sensation that was both light and dark – so right and yet so wrong. I realised with a lurch of something close to panic that my nipples, my exposed nipples, were hardening.

I twisted around quickly and set my plate on the counter, slipping off my stool and making sure my back was turned away from Ben's searching gaze, hoping that he wouldn't realise that there was any excitement being felt by me as well as him. "I, uh, just remembered I promised to call Stephie, back in a tick!" I almost ran from the room and up the stairs to my room.

I had no way of knowing whether Ben believed my story or whether he maybe thought I'd suddenly realised the extent of may nakedness – but in a way, hoped it was the latter. It somehow confirmed that it must have been an accident and that I was highly embarrassed.

But as I leant back against my door, heart hammering and mouth very dry, I knew in my heart-of-hearts that whatever my son might be thinking, the only embarrassment I felt was in the extent of the arousal I was undeniably feeling. No matter how it made me cringe in shock and near-disbelief I could no longer deny that Ben's eyes on my bared breasts had inflamed a passion within me that I though all but dead and buried. It wasn't that I no longer entertained the occasional guy (for 'entertained', read 'fucked'), but my real passions had died not long after Ben's father had walked out on us nearly six years before. This, right now, was the hottest and most fired up I had felt for so very long and the moisture that I could feel actually leaking at the top of my thighs was as real as it was shocking.

I turned to the mirror perched on my dressing table and looked long and hard at my reflection. The blouse still gaped, maybe even wider after the dash up the stairs, and my neat, little breasts stared back at me as they heaved with each shuddering breath I took. I lifted the long, summery skirt, baring the little white panties that almost steamed, a dark patch indicating just how moist the whole incident had made me. I rested my right hand against them, against my throbbing womanhood, and gasped quietly as I realised just how truly aroused I was, just how close I was to a near-unbelievable climax.

My mind swam back more than a dozen years, to days with Ben's father when I last found myself in such a state of the deepest arousal. I remembered a hundred times when we had played one silly game or another and where I had come close to being seen in various states of undress, or even during climax. I shuddered and looked frantically at the reflection of my shocked face, yanking my hand away from my wetness, letting the skirt cover the evidence of my passion. I pulled the two halves of my blouse together, holding them closed across my tingling breasts.

Then I let them go as my mind switched off most of its logic circuits. I tucked the hem of the blouse a little deeper under my waistband, making the view of bared flesh just a little less obvious, then picked up my phone. I didn't let myself think as I turned and opened the door, saying to the dial tone 'Okay, I'll see you then'. I crossed to the top of the stairs and started to make my way down.

*****

I heard Ben's voice before he had even seen me, seen my brazen, thoroughly unnatural (surely?) exposure.

"How was aunt Stephie?"

"She's just fine," I managed, my voice remarkably calm even as I walked straight into the kitchen, never once allowing myself to think properly.

"Oh, that's gr... um, great!"

"You know my sister, always great," I said, almost sauntering back to my stool, demolishing half a pizza slice before I had even got properly seated. "She wanted to know if you were happy enough, as well."

Ben swallowed hard, either the last of his pizza, or the last of his disbelief, "Oh, yeah, I'm just perfect."

"Well that's good then. Better than good, I guess. Anything wrong?"

Ben was staring again, "Fu... nothing, ma, nothing."

I was losing control and put the remains of the pizza back on my plate, "No swearing, young man. And now tell the truth, what's wrong? What's got you so edgy"

Ben's mouth opened and closed a few times and I could see that he was deliberating as to whether he dare state the truth, at least about my supposedly errant blouse, and risk never seeing me like it ever again. I coughed and sought out his eyes. "Ben?"

"M-ma?"

"Son, I know."

His eyebrows rose and I could see fear enter his gaze, "Know... know what?"

It was without a doubt the most blatant, deliberate sexual moment of my life up until then. I lifted my hands from where they sat gathered on my skirt, touched the edges of my open blouse, my eyes locked on my son's, "I know that you have enjoyed the loose buttons."

"But, ma–"

"It's okay," I tried to smile, "It's a real surprise, but I can understand, you know?"

A frown creased my boy's otherwise youthful brow, "I don't... don't–"

A sudden moment of panic sizzled through my already fiery mind, "You don't think I'm not too ancient and awful looking, do you? I mean, is the view too bad?"

"Oh jeez, ma! I mean no!" His eyes rolled for a moment before he said words that almost drenched my thighs, "Ma, mum, I didn't mean to look but... jeez, I couldn't help it! You're, like, so hot!"

"You didn't think to tell me my blouse had come open?" Guess what answer I wanted?

"Well, I mean I know I should've, but, oh jeez, ma, have you any idea how hot you look that way?"

I got it.

Ben rattled on, nervous but now clearly thinking that if he's come this far then he might as well tell all of the truth. Bonus. "I'm sorry, ma, if it's so wrong to you, but... but for me it's like 'wow', and... and... if it's, like, so totally wrong for me to say it, then, well, I'll move out early and we can just–"

"No!" The right answer, another bonus, but then everything was in danger of unravelling. I could see that he was already thinking he was in this far so he might as well come clean, but that left me to do the same. Goodbye logic circuits entirely. "Ben, it's... look. It's okay!"

"It's what?"

"It's okay. I mean it. I don't know what to say really, but I can't admit even to myself you're wrong in any way. And..." The logic circuits were trying desperately to kick back in. But failed. "And I have to say that shock or no shock, it's a bit of a thrill for me. More than a bit. But, Ben, other than a lucky view, a lucky accident, why does it get you so worked up? Tell me the truth now."

Ben stopped and stared at me. Stared into my eyes in a way he seldom did, his eyes so deep and serious. I think maybe his own logic circuits had burned out. "Ma... I mean it, you're so hot... Look, I admit it, okay? I've been looking at you for, like, years and... and you're so hot. Always have been for me."

"Yeah, right," my heart was pounding loud enough to wake our deaf old neighbour, "but what about all those pretty young things you've been out with these last few years?"

He shrugged, "They're available and you never have been, never could be."

"That's got to be pure, unadulterated bull."

"No!" I had been about to continue but he interrupted me, "Ma, have you... don't you realise how good you look? Especially to me."

There was an intensity to his look that took me by surprise – as if I hadn't already been shocked enough that day, "But why? I'm nearly forty, Ben!"

"For a start, you don't look nearly that old, ma, and anyway, I've always thought you were, like, real pretty but... fuck it, ma – sorry, didn't mean to swear – but, ma, it was like four years back or something and I saw you in that real flimsy bra and knickers set you were going to wear under some outfit or something and I dashed out of your room when you walked in and, like, I was all apologies later but... but, ma, I couldn't get this feeling out of my head, yeah? You got me so excited and ever since... well, I keep looking and hoping and... I never seen more than... I mean it's never been much and then today," his eyes dropped to my partially bared breasts and my heart rate hit four figures, "today I saw you like this, and I just couldn't take my eyes off you when I thought you weren't looking, didn't realise your top was open. I know I should have said something, know I've been being so bad thinking these things!"

"I don't," I managed to say.

"What?"

"I don't think you've been wrong today if that's how you've truly felt all this time."

"Ma, you have to be joking me!"

I shook my head, as much to quieten any rogue logic circuits as to clear my thoughts. "No jokes. I never realised. Anything. Never realised how you felt." I paused, remembering the night when he'd been in my room when I'd walked in wearing nothing but the skimpiest of under-things. For almost half a decade I thought I'd either scared or embarrassed him close to rigor mortis and I had been so extra-careful to stay well covered around him ever since. Perhaps I had some catching up to do... "If... if you're serious, Ben, if you really think those things...."

"Ma?"

"Tell me, do you really mean what you're saying?"

His eyes dropped to my barely covered breasts again and he nodded, almost furiously, "Jeez, ma, yes!"

"Promise me one thing then."

"Anything!"

"Promise me," I said, not really believing what I was saying, "that you will never, ever tell anyone about what we've just said, and what we'll say next."

"Ma, I promise. And if it helps you believe me, your top's still undone and I'll give a thousand promises if it burns up time so you stay that way!"

I laughed, genuine delight bubbling up at my son's candour and his naivety. "What if I said that I love that you're looking? Me mad at you? No. I do love it. I never had any idea I ever could – any mother could – but... but I love what you've just said and I love your reaction to me. I know it's bad of me but that's the way it is. And it's why my blouse is unbuttoned right now."

"Do you mean..."

"I mean I'm standing here quite deliberately. And if you need any further proof... I won't stop you if you ask me to take it off completely."

His eyes widened but if I'd expected any further reticence then I'd got that very wrong indeed, "Oh, ma, yes! I mean please. Oh fuck – sorry – Oh jeez yes please!"

I pulled the tails of the blouse out of my skirt, still staring deep into my boy's eyes. With fingers that shook rather than trembled I flipped open the lowest button. "Really sure?"

He nodded faster than I thought a human head could move, "Sure as anything!"

*****

A part of me thought that I was at the extreme end of the possibilities of behaviour that could be possible. Even as I slid the blouse down my arms and let it fall to the floor, as I stood there in my son's eager gaze, I still thought that I had reached the end of a mythical rainbow that I had never realised even existed. I was topless, naked to his stare, my breasts totally exposed – and I was loving the tremors of arousal that coursed through me. I smiled with a quiet but deep delight.

Then Ben reached forward and grabbed my hand.

If I'd thought that I was aroused before, if I'd imagined that I had crossed as far as possible into forbidden territory – and was loving it – that clasp of my hand told me I was so very wrong. And that I was now into a completely different, wilder, and even more arousing landscape.

If exposing yourself to your son was acceptable under these circumstances then what else was?

I lifted Ben's shaking hand with my own trembling one and rested it on my shoulder. I shrugged at him, not trusting myself to say the words that were orbiting my brain – we're come this far, so... - "Times seem to be changing," I managed.

He nodded back and his hand slipped a few inches down my arm.

I didn't move a muscle, except a few deep inside my belly.

His hand slipped onto the front surface of my arm so that it was almost brushing my left breast.

"You know," I whispered, "I really should stop you now?"

He nodded again. And still I didn't move.

With a sound that I can only call a whimper, Ben's hand slid across to my naked breast and he – my son – cupped my nakedness. Who knows who groaned loudest?

"Oh, Ma, you're..." he gave the gentlest squeeze, "gorgeous!"

"Even these tired old things?"

His squeeze was firmer now, a caress, and he raised his other hand to my nakedness, "Oh yes. Your br... boobs are so firm still, so, so, gorgeous!!"

"My tits," I said, "I prefer that word when things get... non-medical. Get a little sexual, even."

"Your tits," he nodded, caressing them so that my hard nipples pressed so firmly into his open palms. "I love them!"

"Kiss them then."

"What?"

"Ben, I haven't felt your mouth there for so many, many years. I want it there now!" And I did. So very, very much.

He dropped his head lower and within a second his lips parted around my left nipple. The touch was electric and electrifying and I gasped, managing to say 'yes' loudly enough that he wasn't scared enough to stop.

There was no way I could control my reactions, no way I could stem the wave or pure arousal that coursed through me. I let my hands slither down my bare stomach and press against my hot womanhood through my skirt. I felt a flash of horror when I realised that the climax I had felt so close earlier was now unstoppable and would arrive at any second. The flash fizzled out at the feel of my hands and Ben's mouth suckling – sucking – at my naked tit.

"Oh, Ben, oh yes!"

There was a momentary pause in his mouthing as he must have glanced up at me to ensure I wasn't trying to stop things but as my belly started to twitch in ecstasy he redoubled the deep sucking , his mouth even switching from left to right nipple.

The first true pulse of climax shuddered through me, turning my knees weak, bringing an odd mewling noise from my throat, "Oh my Ben, my boy! Oh yes, yes, yes, yes!"

I'd known all along that I was due a particularly powerful orgasm but this was mind-numbingly intense. As my Ben's mouth sucked and hands squeezed I yowled and twitched and shook. My yelps of affirmation, the repeated cries of 'yes' and the growling, delighted groans and moans grew louder and freer. I told my son – wailed at him in pleasure – that he was making me climax, making me cum, that he shouldn't stop, that I loved and adored him. And I cum and cum, my belly jerking and dancing with wave after wave of the sort of intense joy that I had never before felt.

For some seconds – maybe a minute or more – I totally lost my mind to the waves of pleasure.

I gasped my way back to full awareness and total acknowledgement, replete with a delight that I found close to beyond comprehension and yet so fully real – and knew that I was, for the moment, that night, experiencing a new circumstance, and one in which I was but a part. I pulled Ben's head level with my own and stared into his eyes, my own, I'm sure, still wild with desire. I licked my lips, cocking my head to one side. An offer.

Ben's lips, fresh from my breasts, closed on my own and, yes, I kissed him. He was tentative at first, scarcely able to believe the contact we now shared. And then I felt the tip of his tongue press forward and I let my mouth relax, let that tongue gain entrance, met its trembling thrust with the wetness of my own eager tongue. By the second he relaxed and yet became more urgent, more thrusting. My mouth opened wider and I let him fully kiss me, let his tongue wrestle passionately with my own.

I knew, of course, that I had climaxed so hard, and knew also, that I was nothing if not fair. I pulled him close, feeling the heat and hardness of his erect cock as it met the tops of my thighs. He began to grind against me and I leant back, encouraging his passion, cupping his firm, flexing butt cheeks, holding him tight against me.

My son's hands pawed at my breasts as his kiss deepened, his tongue pressing further into my willing mouth and his hardness pushing against the spreading wetness of my uppermost thighs.

I felt his whole body jerk and twitch even as he mewled deep into my mouth and I managed to nod my head, encouraging his passions. With a final, hard thrust against me I knew that he was climaxing, that I had helped my boy to cum.

Gasping, we broke the kiss and leaned a little apart, eyes – full of shock and joy – locked.

I smiled. "I needed that!"

There was a pause. And then we laughed – at the same time.

*****

Somehow we managed to wander into the living room and sat beside each other on the sofa, the atmosphere surreal and yet relaxed. I was still topless and Ben was still stealing welcome looks at my bared breasts.

"Am I still not too weird?" I asked him.

"Still beyond gorgeous, more like."

"Any idea what happens next?"

Ben shook his head.

"No idea at all?"

Another shake.

I pursed my lips and shrugged. "Me neither. That wasn't exactly planned, you know?"

"I figured, ma. But..."

"But?"

"I don't know how to say it."

I wasn't sure I knew what he was trying to say although I had an idea. I just didn't know how I was going to reply. Could I ever let something like that happen again? "Try me."

"Ma, that was like a dream come true. But... but...."

"Oh, Ben, say anything, ask anything. It's not like there's anything that we could hardly hide from each other now, is there?"

"I guess not... Ma, it's about 'next'."

I nodded, "Makes sense."

"Can I..."

"Out with it, because the answer's probably 'yes'." See? I knew he'd want a repeat...

"Can I see your legs, you with your skirt off?"

I sat forward, shocked for about the twentieth time that day. As his words sunk in, I was shocked to discover that he had hit the 'arouse her' spot yet again. "Ben!"

"Sorry, sorry, I was just getting carried away."

I stood up and faced him, "Carried away? You can say that again!"

As his face fell into an expression of the deepest remorse I switched off any lingering logic circuits. "I'm not sure how the hell you're doing this, but..." I fumbled with the zipper of my skirt, undoing it, and then fumbled more to release the button that was all that was now holding it up. It fell to the floor. "But, carried away seems to be working for both of us."

My son's eyes almost popped out of his head as he stared up at me, drop his eyes and stared almost level with my white panties – soaked white panties. "Carried away," he nodded.

"Any more requests?" I was vibrating.

"I... I..."

"Very erudite. Does 'I... I...' mean you still think I'm overdressed?"

"Y... yes?"

Ben's uncertainty destroyed the last vestiges of restraint that might – might, note – have remained over my sense of normalcy. "Well," I said, "I guess it's an odd day." I slipped my fingers under the waistband of that drenched garment and pulled it down to my ankles, slipping my feet free to stand before my son. "Better?"

"Oh fuck yes!"

"No apology for the swearing this time?"

He shook his head. "You trim it. It's beautiful. You're totally beautiful."

Something exploded deep inside me. "Thank you. But I'm naked." I said, "You're not. And you still haven't apologised for swearing."

As Ben rose to his feet just a few inches away from me I knew I could still stop things. And I knew I wouldn't. He stripped in lightning time and I was finally rewarded with the sight of him pulling down his boxers, his – my son's – engorged cock springing free.

"Ma," he managed, "I can't apologise for swearing. You are too fucking gorgeous."

I choked a laugh, shocked by everything, aroused by it all, "And?"

He touched me, one hand on my shoulder, and I felt more naked, more alive, than I ever had before. It was all so very wrong and yet all so very right. I laid my hand on his and smiled.

Hunger was evident in every look, every tiny gesture. There was no movement for a few seconds as tensions rose and rose. And then the wave of emotion broke for both of us, the last restraints snapping. Ben's hand tightened on my shoulder and he started to pull me towards him. I lost all control.

I fell against him with a hunger that was so new to me, so natural and so needy. I kissed him deeply as I felt my small breasts crushed against his bare chest and then, oh then, I felt that hard cock hard against my belly, my son's balls hot against the sparse hair barely covering my pussy. His arms snaked around me, tightening his grip before he pushed as I dragged at him, my back hitting the sofa as he tumbled with me, our mouths locked, lips wildly kissing, tongues wrestling. My legs scissored wide and wrapped around his hips, and that heat, that hardness of his, pressed against my very centre.

Ben's hips lifted away from me and my mind and body traced the movement of his cock's hot tip as it slipped lower, his shaft caressing my wide open lips before his was perfectly poised, almost demanding entrance. I spread wider still, almost demanding his entry.

All of the willingness, the desire and need, never prepared me in any way for the screamingly wild sensation I felt as my Ben's cock pressed against me, as the first few millimetres of his hard cock pushed my lips apart. I could feel every tiny movement as he inexorably parted me, as he came closer and closer to full entry. With the tiniest push of his hips, the bulge of his glorious erection passed the point of no return, sliding deeper and deeper. I bucked, the motion involuntary but necessary for me, and I felt every single fraction of his member slide deep inside me. One of us, maybe both, cried out the loudest 'yes!', and I was impaled, gloriously, on my boy's hard cock.

There was a glorious pause, no movement for several seconds as our mouths parted and our blue eyes locked and smiled and acknowledged the joy of those moments.

"This is so bad," I whispered, "but so very good."

"Fucking good," Ben gasped.

"Oh yeah." I bucked hard and grabbed his butt, grinding my hips against my son's.

He started to move then, started to glide in and out of me, started to fuck me. Hard, eager.

I matched every thrust with a buck, every grasp and grunt with a moan and a groan, every kiss with a wide open mouth. His movements were desperate from the very start and mine were no less frantic – and yet somehow both of us held back from climax for the longest of times. Sweat rose on our limbs and bodies as we fucked and fucked so hard and so fast until we were slipping and sliding against each other. Pressures inside me soared until I felt Ben's body start to twitch spasmodically and I knew he was so very close to unleashing the contents of the balls that were slapping rhythmically against my thighs."Do it!" I broke our kiss long enough to demand, "Let me have it all!"

Ben's eyes widened in seeming surprise but he didn't argue for a second. Instead his pace, already frantic, increased until his belly was slapping mine loudly with every thrust. "Ma," he started to say, over and over, "Ma, I'm going to cum!"

"I know. Do it!" I bucked and thrust back at him faster, matching his fever, "I want it, I want it, I want it. I want your cum deep in me, Ben, I need it!"

He gasped so loud, his body stiffening. With a cry of "Oh, ma!" he thrust so hard and deep. And exploded deep inside me.

As his cum spurted so hard inside me, every last vestige of control left me and my belly muscles tightened and pulsed. "Fuck, oh fuck, Ben. Oh yes, yes, ygh, yow. Oh FUCK YES!"

Our bodies locked so tightly together as wave after wave of climax pulsed through me, a tsunami of feeling that wiped every thought from my mind except its own screaming pleasure. I've cum before in multiple waves, but never like that. I grasped my son tight, felt every inch of his penetration of me, his cum soaking my insides and I bucked and bucked and bucked. I howled and held him tight, yowled and swore how much I loved him. I lost all control and I loved every second in ways that I could never properly describe.

*****

Ben was still deep inside me when my senses started to return to something like normal and just that realisation sent another, far more gentle, pulse of climax through my already strained belly.

"Well," I panted after a delightful minute or so, "that was all rather unexpected."

Ben looked down at me and nodded, "Er... yeah."

"And, I might add, a very good fuck."

He snorted a laugh, "Ma!"

"What? You don't think it was?"

"Of course but... you swore!"

I shrugged, "Just being honest – that was an incredible fuck."

"Yeah, that's true. And it was love-making too."

"Fucking good love-making," I told him.

He snorted another laugh, "Yeah."

"Between you and me," I told him, "I find the language goes with the territory for me. And given that you still have your hard cock inside me – inside your mother's pussy, okay? – I feel it's appropriate. So, a very good fuck, love-making or not."

"Agreed, but you're not pushing me away," he said.

I shrugged, "Don't feel like it. You object?"

"Oh jeez, no! I love it, love being here..."

"With your cock buried in my pussy?"

He look shocked for a second, then grinned, "Yeah, with my cock buried in your..."

"Pussy? Or would you prefer me to say 'wet pussy'? I can hardly blame you for saying it. Say 'your cunt' if you want."

The shock in his eyes passed faster, "Your gorgeous wet pussy is fine, ma."

"Keep complimenting me. See where it can get you?"

"You mean if I call you gorgeous again I might get to... fuck you again?"

I stared up into his eyes. My mind was under control again, but my emotions were entirely new to me, "I don't think it will ever be as good as this time again, but... I don't think I will ever be able to deny you another try."

"Another try?"

"Another fuck," I said softly. I felt a stirring from him inside me, "And to judge by the feeling I just had, I think you might like to try again almost right away."

"One condition."

I raised an eyebrow, "Condition?"

Ben nodded, smiled, "Just the one. I want to kiss you again."

I laughed, "Here am I, legs spread, my son's cock – my son's cum – deep inside my pussy, and he wants a kiss?"

The humour faded from his features, "Yeah."

I didn't even want to resist. I reached behind his neck and pulled his head down to mine. The kiss was gentle at first, loving and meaningful. Inside me, Ben's cock stiffened quickly and I knew the power of love for what it truly was. I increased the pressure on my son's lips and allowed mine to part a little. The tips of our tongues met and as they started to entwine so his hips and mine started to move oh so gently.

I could have stopped everything after the fuck – not before, I admit – but for all Ben's claim that we had been making love, that was not strictly, completely, true for me. I had lost control and needed, wanted the fucking. But now... now was different. This was a surrender of a totally different sort. This was me accepting my son's cock, accepting and returning his love. This was an entirely different act and for me, it was even more shocking than what had come before. Lust or not earlier, this was love pure and simple – but on a dimensional plane I hadn't even realised existed.

I kissed my son with a gentle, complete desire, even as out hips rocked softly together. I helped pace and place his thrusts with my hands on his hips, helping him also with the depth of his penetrations, guiding him to withdraw from me almost completely before letting him slide deep back inside me.

We spoke quietly, words of desire and words of love, punctuated by kisses deep and loving. At some point we exchanged positions so that I could ride my boy, carefully controlling how deep his thrusts reached; my pussy, my insides more to the point, becoming a little sore from our exertions. But that didn't stop me from rising towards another set of firework-powered climaxes, my squeals of delight bringing forth another gush of my son's cum deep inside me.

We were not even close to being sated, I guess, but we were exhausted – by the unexpectedness of both the events and the exercise. Sweat slicked every inch of our naked flesh and we slid together, entwined, into a sleep both deep and needed.

*****

I came awake slowly with just one word ringing through my mind: Wrong.

At the very beginning I linked the word with the fact that I was coming awake on my sofa rather than my bed. It wasn't long before I realised that my body was nestled against someone else's form, quickly followed by the fact that the pair of us were completely naked. These things were all wrong – or at least, very much out of the ordinary. But then the real wrong hit me. The other naked form belonged to my son, Ben. In a fraction of a second the events of the previous night came crashing back into my sleepy mind. So very wrong in so many ways.

Unlike the countless stories I had read or hear of, my son was not rigid, displaying 'morning wood'. Instead, his penis was little more than halfway hard, but still impressively adult-looking. And to make that summary was, of course, so very wrong of me. But I looked.

I was beside him, my back to the cushions, effectively trapped between his cock and a softness from which I couldn't escape without sliding across his still-sleeping form. I couldn't help but look even while I knew it was wrong.

Memories of the intense climaxes I had shared with my son clamoured through my clearing brain, and I almost whimpered at those memories. Wrong, but unavoidable if I were to be honest with myself. I looked down at my own nakedness, my breasts touching Ben's side, my groin pressed against his hip. It was totally wrong. But...

I was trying to work out how I might slip unnoticed from the sofa when his eyes flickered open, and I smiled. Wrong, but I smiled.

"Hey," I said, "Good morning."

He blinked a few times and turned to look at me, "Ma... not a dream?"

"I guess not. Wrong, but not a dream."

Ben seemed to come fully awake in an instant, something I hadn't witnessed since he was so much younger, "We're naked! I... we..."

"Made love. Fucked. I know."

He twisted to face me, looking down the length of our bodies before drawing me into a tight embrace. "I never said, never got a chance, I guess, but... you are so gorgeous."

"Ben... that's lovely but this is all wrong. All of it."

"We're holding each other. We're naked. We... last night..."

"I know!" But it doesn't make it not wrong." I was right, of course, but I couldn't seem to move. "If anyone ever knew..."

"Ma, no one is going to! I swear on everything, this is just you and me, just our thing."

"It was just our thing, okay? Last night."

Ben shook his head slowly and my heart leapt into my throat. "It'll never be enough for me," he said softly.

'Wrong, wrong, wrong,' my logic circuits supplied even as I allowed him to hold me tighter, even as I let my body acknowledge the inner arousal that was building rapidly. "I... Ben... I never meant things to go this far... but..."

"But?"

"But we can't turn the clocks back, can we? So..." I eased myself as far back as I could, "So why don't we just accept that things went way too far. And," I added quickly to stop my son's mouth turning down in despair any further, "why don't we just accept that we might as well find out just how much we can enjoy each other?"

He went still as his mind calculated all of the meanings behind my words. Then he moved, tentatively, closer and licked his lips. "I can kiss you again?"

"Yes."

He kissed me softly then broke away a fraction, "And touch you again?"

"Yes."

Ben's right hand cupped my left breast, squeezing so softly, "And..." he slid on top of me, his hardness now evident, "And..."

"And fuck again, yes."

He paused above me, staring down with eyes that sparkled, "Fuck and make love?"

"Yes and yes." I reached between us and grasped his rigid cock – for the first time – drawing him towards my suddenly very moist, very warm pussy. "Starting right now!"

I groaned loud and clear into the early morning light as Ben's cock touched my wetness, pushed my lips apart, pushed my labia wide and slid softly and slowly into me. "Oh, Ben, that feels so good. So fucking good!"

He nodded, grunted a laugh as he pushed fully home, "Oh this is beyond fantastic. You... your pussy... oh yes!"

"This," I told him between moans, "is so very wrong."

"I know," he managed, his rhythm settling into deep thrusts, his cock moving sweetly and freely, tight inside my gently squeezing centre, "Wrong, but so perfect."

"You're a bad, bad boy!"

"And you're a bad, bad mother. But, ma?"

"Yeah? Oh yes?"

"You're a million times as good as you are bad. And one fantastic fuck!"

I bucked my hips to meet his thrusts as his speed increased, "So fuck me good and hard, son, enjoy your bad mummy's pussy. And while you're busy fucking me, making me even more bad, why not suck on mummy's tits, huh?"

His head dropped immediately, his mouth closing over my left nipple, sucking hard, nipping gently. "Oh, Ben! Bite, pull!"

He bit harder, his cock starting to slam into me at the same time and I let myself groan and wail at the wrongness, the rightness. "Oh Ben, this is so wrong. So wrong for you to have that hard dick of yours pounding away inside me, inside your mummy's pussy, her cunt." I wailed louder as his pace increased, his mouth moving to my right breast and his hands now pawing at every inch of me he could touch, "You like the wrongness of fucking me? Like the thought that you are going to – oh fuck yes – you're going to fill my cunt with your hot cum? Unh yes! Getting faster and harder, getting more desperate to be so wrong?" I was bucking faster and faster as Ben's movements became more and more frantic, "I love your cock in me, Ben, love you fucking me so hard, love your mouth on my tits, love that you are going to fill me, love this is so wrong, love, love... oh fuck I'm losing it. Oh god, oh fuck... oh, oh, unh, oh, unh, oh, OH! You're going to make me... you're making me... oh Ben!" I wailed, yowled, "Ben! Fill me! Cum in me! Cum in mummy's cunt!"

I let out a scream of delight as I felt the first gush deep inside me. I yelled as loud as I could, screaming Ben's name as my own orgasm ripped through me, my hips rising more than a foot from the sofa as my belly tightened in a series of pulsating spasms, my arms holding my son deep inside me.

My mind shorted out as my ears started to ring and my sight was criss-crossed with a million starry stripes of ecstasy.

I remember collapsing back onto the sofa's cushions, remember a word or two coming from my son – 'fucking beautiful', 'so cute', 'tight pussy', 'always'. I gasped and panted, held him so tight, knew that it was all so wrong and yet all so perfect.

And then he started again – minutes later maybe, but it seemed like it was without a break. And I loved it. His cock started to rock backwards and forwards inside me, and then we kissed.

And kissed.

And fucked, made love.

Wrong, huh?

*****

Breakfast that Sunday was a slice of toast and a coffee. And a long talk.

There were many mentions of the word 'wrong', many promises of no one else ever learning of that wrongness, the occasional 'complaint' that I still had someone's cum leaking down my thighs, and many promises that life would be a lot different now.

Oh, and a very gentle session of love-making – I was too sore by then to fuck – somewhere between the second and third mugs of coffee.

I learned that Ben was a lot more like his father than even I had realised. I learned that he got highly aroused by the thought of his partner taking chances with their dress when others – strangers –might see them. And that he wasn't just enjoying a passing – but wild – fantasy or fling. My boy meant this.

I learned to realise that Ben would only be at home another three months before he needed to go off to his university – and that three months could be a very long, wonderful time if I allowed myself to relax into things. I think I believed I could last the course.It's been a long five months since I overcame the feeling of 'wrong' and made a very 'right' choice with my son, Ben. I might have aged a year in that time – I'm thirty-nine now – but I feel ten years younger. Twenty years or so at times.

There's no doubts in my mind now that Ben has a lot of his father's genes in him. Or at least, those ones his father displayed when he and I were much younger. Ben's a lover of excitement – not to mention an exciting lover – and I've been happy, overjoyed, to play along. It started almost as soon as we got it together, Ben and I, and wonderfully, gloriously took me by surprise.

That first weekend was a shock to my system. I mean to say, what mother wouldn't be shocked to find herself fucking her son and – despite the internal debates about rights and wrongs – enjoying every second more than she could ever remember enjoying herself? By the time Ben went off, reluctantly, to his part-time summer job on the Monday morning I was almost delirious with delight, not to mention sore.

I paced the house – well, limped around – doing my best to tell myself that it was all so very wrong. It was taboo, it was – let's be honest here – incest, it was... just so very, very good. All I could think about that Monday was how naughty, how bad, how wonderful it all had been. It wasn't just the sex, which had been surprisingly good in every sense, but we had kissed like lovers do, lips and tongues locked in a passion that was deliberate and meaningful. We had changed, in seemingly no time at all, from a normal mother and son to a very sexual partnership – still mother and son, but now lovers.

The 'right' was outweighing the 'wrong' by a hundred-fold.

Then, of course, I started to doubt Ben and what my son would be thinking. Perhaps he had just got all he wanted. Perhaps he was just a MILF hunter and I would be just another trophy. Perhaps it would be all too much for him, all too 'wrong'.

I looked down at myself. I'd dressed in a rather short summery skirt with just a lightweight cotton blouse, both pale blue. The blouse was loose and buttoned to just below my small breasts, a deep V of cleavage displaying more flesh than I would normally offer to the world. Was it too much? Did I look desperate even? Was it all too–

The front door slammed shut and my mind did the same.

Until Ben burst into the kitchen where I had been sipping coffee.

"Ma?"

I could see in an instant that Ben had been carrying as many doubts as me – and that he wanted the weekend to be all true, and that it had a future.

"Hey, Ben. Am I glad to see you!" My motherly instincts were busy scrapping with the sluttier ones, and I had no idea what my greeting really meant.

When Ben glanced at my loosely buttoned blouse and his face split into an eager grin before he answered me, I knew Ms Slutty had won the day. And boy was I happy.

"So, ma, it wasn't all a dream?"

"No," I said, wanting nothing more than his lust, "We spent a very naughty time together and made each other cum beautifully."

"You got that right. God, I'm so relieved! I was thinking–"

"All sorts. Yeah I know the feeling."

Ben closed the gap between us and put a hand on each of my shoulders, "You're really okay about it all?"

I nodded, "More than."

His hands dropped and covered my breasts, "I guess this is okay then?"

My heart-rate rose alarmingly, "Well, I didn't stop you, did I?"

He gave the gentlest of squeezes, "No, ma."

"Not too small for you?"

The next squeeze was a little firmer, "Perfect."

"They've missed you." I paused, "So have I."

"Oh, jeez, ma, you have no idea how much I wanted to hear that. Can I kiss you again?"

I leaned up and planted the gentlest of kisses on my son's lips.

His smile broadened to the point where I was slightly worried his ears might fall off, "Oh, ma. Can I... can I see your tits again?"

My hands trembled as I undid the couple of buttons of my blouse. I shrugged it off as Ben lifted his hands out of the way before returning them to my now-naked breasts.

"Ma, can I... can we..."

"Fuck again?" I asked, scarcely believing myself.

Ben nodded. "Yes."

The trembles were worse as I unzipped the skirt. It fell to the floor revealing that I was naked beneath it. My son's eyes widened as I stood before him. It was an offer to my boy and I knew that he wanted me then, really knew it. There was the longest pause as he looked down at my naked body, his hands moving back so that everything was on show.

I was shivering with anticipation, with a nervous tension that only now made itself felt. I cleared my throat. "Well?"

It broke the spell that had been cast over Ben and his hands flew to his jeans, buttons popping before he yanked the t-shirt he was wearing over his head. Within a couple of seconds he was as naked as I was and I more or less fell into his arms, our bare flesh meeting and our ardours rising to the ceiling and beyond.

Our lips met, an awkward clash that felt sublime. The heat of Ben's cock, rigid against my bare belly, felt as if it could sear my eager flesh, and it was all I wanted at that moment. I pulled down on my boy's shoulders and felt him lit me from my feet. My legs opened wide and I hooked them around his hips, suddenly free from the floor and gravity. I lifted my belly further, guided by his rigid heat, and offered no resistance at all as my womanhood, my very centre, eased along his length until the tip – the tip of my son's hard cock – was positioned between my eager, flowering labia.

Ben's grip shifted, easing me lower and despite expecting – wanting – everything, I was still delightedly shocked as my son started to penetrate me. He eased that hot cock gently into my very heart, parting my eager lips, the head finally slipping fully inside me and its oh-so warm shaft following until he was fully and properly buried inside me.

I started to rock then, easing myself higher then lower on that gorgeous shaft, and our kiss became deeper, hungrier. A deeper, ravenous appetite overtook me then and I started pistoning up and down, eager, desperate and shockingly so much closer to a climax that I had been wanting without even realising it.

My son's hips were now rocking in rhythm with mine and he broke the kiss for a few moments to stare down, first at my bare breasts and then further to where I was buried deep on his cock. "Oh, ma... mum... I love this. Love you!"

"And Ben, I love you. Love you fucking me, fucking your mum."

"Oh jeez, oh mum! I hope you love me cumming inside you as well because that's gonna happen real soon!"

I laughed, "Love it! Want it!" We began rocking faster, "As long as you don't mind my juices all over your gorgeous cock!"

Ben groaned and pulled me tighter, our teeth clashing before the kiss resumed.

Faster movements became slippery as we began to sweat, but each and every thrust of hips was perfection. I could feel the climax building inside me and simply rode the wave, the thrill building ever higher as we kissed and squirmed together, our movements become jerkier, until Ben thrust harder than ever.

"Oh mum!"

The first wave of my own climax hit me then, "Ben! I'm.. ungh... ahhh! I'm cumming!"

Ben wailed in delight and I felt his cum spraying, surging inside me. "Oh mum!"

"Ben! Oh, Ben yes! Oh BEN!"

Wave after wave of delight coursed through me and I wailed and moaned, matching every groan and moan that squeezed from my son's lips. Still we pumped together, grinding our groins more tightly than I imagined possible, oblivious to every sensation but that of my son's gorgeous cock. A final spasm almost wrenched me from his arms but he grabbed me even tighter and I trembled and shook, impaled gloriously on his hard cock.

The 'right' was now outweighing the 'wrong' by a thousand-fold.

*****

I was still impaled when I got my senses back in some sort of order, still in the same position save for the fact that my butt cheeks were perched on one of the kitchen counters. I was breathing as if I'd just run a couple of marathons and Ben, young and fit, was little better.

"Whatever happened to 'hi, ma, what's for supper?'?"

"I think I prefer this sort of supper," my son gasped.

"We'll try it for a few days and see if you still prefer it, if you like?"

Ben nodded, "I feel sure I will. Jeez, ma, you're loud though!"

"Hurt your eardrums did I? I haven't been that loud for as long as I can remember."

"I liked it," Ben told me, "Made me feel I wasn't the only one enjoying things."

"You got that right."

"Mind you," Ben nodded over my shoulder, "You might get complaints from other quarters."

I looked over my slippery shoulder and saw the kitchen window was open, "Oops." As we stared, the curtain flapped back in the gentle breeze, leaving no barrier between us and the golf course at the bottom of the garden. "Oops again. Sorry."

Ben shrugged, "It's rather nice."

"I take it," I said, facing my boy, "that you're not referring to the view?"

He shrugged again, "Is that so bad?"

I smiled, my mind whirling back for a moment to the daring games I used to play with his father, "Anyone could have been walking past, you know?"

"Risky, huh?"

"And you really don't mind?"

My son shrugged yet again, but inside me I could feel his cock hardening again – to both my surprise and delight, "I don't if you don't."

"You know," I said slowly, starting to rock my hips very gently, "back in the day I used to love a bit of danger."

Ben's cock became fully hard in an instant, "I never tried anything like it before but now you mention it I get the impression that I rather like the danger."

"Of being seen fucking your own mother?"

"Just fucking a gorgeous woman. No one playing golf would ever know who you were to me," Ben started to meet my thrusts with gentle ones of his own, "but now you mention it, perhaps that would be fun as well."

We were fucking again, already, and Ben's words brought a new urgency to my actions. I'd never thought of that sort of danger before, ever, but now he'd said it aloud... "We have to keep what we do a secret, right?"

"Yeah of course, but maybe a little risk occasionally. Where we're not really known...?"

"Naughty," I managed.

Ben adjusted me on his hips, his thrusts suddenly harder, "You like the idea, don't you?"

"Could be," I managed, "but you can see the thing about strangers who don't know us, can't you?" I motioned back at the window.

"I can sure feel that, ma."

"And you love it, right?" Our movements were already rapid, juices squelching from me.

By way of answer, Ben shuffled us both sideways until he could reach the curtain. "I could pull this right off the rail."

"You waiting to see if I will tell you not to?"

"I'm polite like that."

"Makes a change," I said.

"You haven't stopped me yet."

"True," I nodded. No one had come close to seeing me like this for almost two decades and the thought was having a totally shocking effect on me. I was already in shock about Ben and me, but if Ben was this daring as well...

"You know I love you, ma?"

"And that we're fucking, yes."

"Well I don't care who knows how beautiful you are!"

I heard curtain rings hitting the counter and felt a cool breeze wash over my naked body, "You're a bad boy, aren't you?"

"A lucky one!"

"True. And I have a feeling we can have a great deal of fun. Would you like that?" The slutty part of me was winning hands-down now.

"I think I'm going to love it. And ma? I can see a couple of old golfers coming vaguely this way."

My pace quickened, "They won't be the only ones cumming."

"Don't move then?"

"Just faster," I gasped, the first moan leaving my throat.

Ben's thrusts become faster as requested as I wriggled us round sideways so I could see if anyone really was approaching, my moan turning to a wail as I spotted the two elderly golfers cresting a small rise behind the house. When one of them looked straight across at the house, his jaw dropping open even as he nudged his playing partner, the wail grew to a full on yowl.

Ben had seen the two old men as clearly as I had and his movements became as frantic as my howling. "Oh, fucking hell, mum!"

"Cum for me then, Ben, fill me!" I managed between gasps and howls.

As his seed flooded into me an orgasm of such unexpected power surged through me and I properly howled, "Oh fuck yes! All that cum in my cunt! I love it, love you, Ben!"

"Oh yes, mu–"

As wild as the waves of climax were, I managed to clamp my mouth over his, stopping him from saying the fateful word when the old guys were close enough now to hear. I managed to mutter 'later' into his mouth as we shuddered deep in the throes of our second, bone-deep moments of ecstasy.

Such was the power of that orgasm that I thrust back at my son so hard that he slipped out of me, and in turn I slipped off of his hips, sliding down his legs to sprawl on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor. Seconds later, Ben more or less collapsed beside me, gasping but snorting laughter.

"Oh, ma, oh fuck! Oh wow."

Giggles erupted from me, "Wow, wow. I have the strongest feeling that we're going to have a whole lot of fun together." My breathing was returning to normal even if my heart-rate was still up in the stratosphere, "You are a gloriously naughty boy, you know that?"

Ben was on his knees to my side, "I sure hope so. Is that a promise about the fun?"

"It is," I managed, "Now pass me my blouse so I can get up."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes! Those two guys will still be out there and me being caught in the act is way different from me parading around topless here."

Ben thought for a few seconds, before finally nodding, "I see what you mean."

As he passed me the garment I nodded to myself, he was going to be more than a naughty, 'wrong' act for me. Ben was going to enjoy such a 'right' time...

*****

As the week progressed I came to realise that my beloved son had never played those sort of daring games before. We didn't play again ourselves, but it became a topic of conversation before, during and after a multitude of acts. Okay, fucks.

It was a busy week, fuck-wise. My 'rights' and 'wrongs' internal debates were lasting less and less time and while I came to accept that things were not normal, they certainly didn't count as 'wrongs' in my book. And Ben was proving to be a technically very good lover. Or rather, a very good lover, technically.

By the next weekend I was happily exhausted and content in the almost certain knowledge that I now had a lover, sex-partner, with whom I was going to have a great deal of fun. I also had the snatch from Hell and could barely walk. It didn't stop a permanent smile, though.

That smile was in full force on the Saturday afternoon following a relatively (no pun intended) gentle bout of sex in the confines of the living room.

"Still having fun?" I was slightly nervous that this would all be a very quick passing fancy, even though I knew our time together was going to be limited. Three months would be a lot different to a week or so.

"Ma, I feel like I'm in a dream. A perfect dream."

"You certainly feel like a dream to me. Oh, hang on. Pass the bucket, that was vomit-inducing."

"I don't care. I want more."

"You always were a greedy kid," I laughed, "but bits of me need a rest just now. Nothing to do with age, I hasten to add, just the fact that a certain sensitive part of me is unused to all this exercise."

Ben stretched beside me on the sofa, "I didn't mean right now. I've got my own sensitive part even if it's happily sore. I was talking about the daring stuff, the games."

"Oh?" I didn't dare say anything else in case my voice wobbled too much.

"I know you get super-hot when we talk about doing daring stuff but did you really mean it all?"

"How could you ever doubt your own mother?"

Ben was normally quiet, verging on shy, but now I could see a new intensity to him. He was hesitant but, I could tell, determined. I adored Ben as my son, but now I found myself falling in love with the young man, my lover. "Ma... would it be possible, do you think, if we could maybe... if it'd be alright with you, of course... could we maybe go away for a weekend? Somewhere no one would know anything about us, I mean? If you know what I mean?"

"In no particular order," I said, not letting myself think beyond my wants and needs, "Yes, yes and yes. A long weekend, if you like?"

Ben had clearly been expecting at least one 'no' and had geared himself up for a three-fold refusal, so the look of surprise on his face was a joy to me. His words even more so, "That's a 'yes' then?"

I laughed, happy to be the senior partner in this new alliance, "It's very much a 'yes'," I assured him, "I think it would do us both good to let off some steam. Even more steam. Leave it all to me and I'll book us a nice room somewhere a hundred miles away, by the sea."

"That'd be great, ma. I can afford to... did you just say 'a' room? You mean one each, of course?"

"Money or not, I don't think we'll need more than one, do you?"

"Oh, ma! No. No I don't!"

*****

The week passed in something of a blur, my sore part given a timely rest by the arrival of a normally most unwelcome monthly visitor. To make the usually despised pains even better, it meant that I was both clear by the time the weekend arrived and at my horniest, a mood that always struck in the two or three days after each period. Like I needed the boost!

I met Ben at the local railway station after his Friday at work was finished, with two lightweight bags, our weekend changes of clothes safely stashed away. The train was packed with commuters heading home, and the crowd barely thinned even as we approached the resort that was to be our temporary home for the next four nights. Back near our own station we were the souls of discretion, a mother and son heading off to the coast for the weekend, probably to visit an ageing relative or similar, but the closer we got to the coastline, the harder it was to keep up that pretence. Sly winks became ever slyer pats on the thigh and during a momentary darkness as we clanked across points in a tunnel I felt Ben's hand brush across the front of my blouse. Hopefully the ensuing sudden glare of light hid my blush...

The mercifully short taxi ride from the train station to the small hotel I had booked for us was almost wordless for Ben and I, and I scribbled our details into the check-in book at the establishment's front desk before we took the corridor to our room at a near-run. The room's door was fitted with an electronic card lock which was just as well since I don't think either of us could have managed a proper key, and clothes were being pulled off before the door even closed properly.

What can I say about the next few minutes other than 'we fucked'. It was breathless, animal passion. We were loud and free, somehow even freer with all those people just a wall or two away from us than we had been in the more-or-less privacy of our own house, and boy did it set the mood for the nights and days to follow.

Don't get me too wrong here. I still understood, deep down, that this was all very wrong as far as many people would be concerned, but I knew better than to argue against how I was feeling deep down inside. I didn't know what the weekend would bring, never really had much of a clue. And for once in my life, I simply didn't care.

That first night of our first weekend away, we lay together after the first sex session, naked on the double bed. We stayed that way for maybe half an hour before I finally managed to rouse myself and I eased myself from the bed, telling Ben to wait where he was for a few moments.

I took the larger of the two bags and slipped into the small en suite bathroom where I unzipped the holdall and drew out a specially purchased dress. With a smile at my reflection in the room's mirror, I towelled myself dry from the sweat of sex and pulled the black garment down over my head. A few minor tweaks and I was happy enough with the look of things. I stepped back into the room.