Shock

Chapter 2. Shock

Lily watches as her son hurries out of the living room, her knickers bunched up in his fist. Once he's gone, she heaves a sigh, reflecting on how suddenly their relationship has changed.

This morning, everything was normal, but after the shopping trip, she was confronted with a harsh truth—Harry loves her, not in the usual way, but in a forbidden, taboo way. The kind of love where he wouldn't hesitate to cross boundaries no son should. He has already asked her to do something that would disturb any mother. To put on lingerie and pose for him so he can take photos of her, to be later used for masturbation.

She wonders how things reached this point. She could blame herself—maybe she wore a dress that was too provocative or flirted too much in front of him. But according to his confession, he has been in love with her for a long time. Today was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

Most mums would react with anger, maybe even spank their wayward sons after hearing such a weird confession. But Lily was never one for strictness—neither was James, to be honest. In their home, disputes are settled with gentle talks, cajoling, and persuasion. Violence is never their way. Some might say their parenting is too soft, but they have raised a remarkable child, one who excels in everything. She likes to think they did a good job.

Of course, this odd confession does crack that image of perfection, but it's alright. She'd rather have a son who is too affectionate than one who is distant. She has heard too many horror stories of children leaving home and severing ties with their parents. She doubts Harry would ever do that. He's the kind who would buy the house next door just to stay close. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

She and James have loved Harry more than anything. He is their miracle child, the one who wasn't supposed to exist. She had been declared barren by the healers, and yet, the most beautiful boy was born to her.

Now, how to handle his love—this overwhelming, unhealthy obsession? While she's agreed to be his playboy model, she knows a horny teenager won't stop there. He'll want more. He'll keep pushing for more. But she has her limits. She loves Harry more than anyone. Yet, she knows his attraction towards her is wrong. She can't let it grow. She has to find a way to… cure it. But how do you stop your son from harbouring taboo desires? By removing the taboo itself, by taking away the 'mystery' from the act.

She will show him that the only reason he lusts after her is because of the taboo factor, because she is unattainable. She will let him attain her. Well, only to a small degree, of course. She is still loyal to her husband. She won't either touch him or let him touch her. That's the boundary. Under that boundary, she will do anything for him, to make him realise that she isn't some unattainable goddess, that she is just another woman.

She hopes it will help him grow out of this phase.

Rising to her feet, she heads to the master bedroom. Once there, she unshrinks the bag and carefully lays out the dresses she has purchased, followed by the lingerie.

Biting her lip, she picks up the lingerie and stands in front of a full mirror. Slipping out of her dress, she takes off the last remaining piece of garment on her body—her maroon bra; her knickers are already removed and gifted to her son. She tries not to think about what he is doing with that right now.

She blushes when she notices the wetness between her legs.

That won't do.

She is only doing this for Harry. She will feel no pleasure from the upcoming modelling session, from his ravenous attention. Absolutely not.

Putting on the newly bought ebony lingerie—a bra with intricate floral designs on the cups and a tiny thong—she prepares herself for what's to come.

~xXxXx~

Harry is in his room, lying naked in the bed. He has his eyes closed, his nose scrunched, his face twisted. His mum's knickers are wrapped around his stone-hard cock, the fabric smooth and nice as he slides it up and down, as he fucks it. The fabric rustles and shifts with each movement, the bed creaks in rhythm to his thrusts, and the sound of his laboured breaths fills the air.

When he feels himself getting close, he sits up and opens the knickers. He thrusts his cock inside, rubbing his bulbous glans on the spot where he imagines the fabric has been in contact with his mum's slit. That spot is a proxy for her pussy. That patch was given the privilege to be flushed tight against his mum's cunt, and Harry fucks that spot, he stretches the material, pumping his cock but careful that patch of the fabric is always gliding along his cockhead.

He feels it coming, the pressure writhing out of his cock, his balls tightening. As it bursts out, he moans and flops back on the bed, his feet flat on the mattress, his knees bent, as he thrusts his hips up in the air erratically, squeezing out every last drop, releasing his jizz through the knickers, like oil through a filter. By the time he relaxes and drops his butt, there is semen on both sides of the fabric.

He pants for a minute, beads of sweat trailing down his forehead.

This was the best fap of his life. He wonders if his mum will agree to let him use her knickers again.

Shaking his head at the absurd idea, he slips off the bed and enters the bathroom. There, he drops the soiled underwear in the basket and steps under the shower, letting himself soak for a while. Then he returns to his room and throws on a pair of t-shirt and shorts. Grabbing the camera off the desk, he excitedly leaves his room. It's time for his mum to model for him in that skimpy lingerie.

He is already sporting a half-mast.

~xXxXx~

When he goes to the living room, his mum isn't there yet.

He sits on the sofa, contemplating the different positions he plans to ask her to do. The living room offers plenty of space for that. Besides the sofa he's on, there are two more positioned perpendicularly on either side. In the centre of the sofas lies a rug that covers most of the floor. On the far wall, a shelf displays a few books, and family photos are hung around everywhere.

The sound of approaching footsteps makes him straighten up and turn towards the door.

His jaw drops as his mum enters wearing nothing but black lingerie.

A deep flush spreads across her cheeks as she stops in front of him, unable to meet his awed gaze. Her vibrant crimson hair cascades down her back in wild waves, trailing behind her like flames. The ebony silk of her bra hugs her curves perfectly, emphasising the fullness of her breasts. Noodle-thin straps sit atop her shoulders, leaving the smooth expanse of her pale skin bare and drawing attention to the deep valley between her breasts. His breath hitches as he takes in the sight, his body responding with a sudden surge of desire.

Her bra, with its sheer lace and tantalising cut-outs, hints at what lies beneath. But it is her knickers that leave nothing to the imagination. A delicate triangle of fabric covers her most intimate areas, held in place by a thin string that wraps around her curvy waist. The sight of her plump thighs is almost too much for him to handle, tempting him to bury his face between them in search of heaven.

"Wow," he murmurs, snapping a photo.

She flinches from the flashlight and sighs. "Give me a warning next time, sweetie."

"Sorry, can you turn around? Please?" he asks, leaning forward with the camera in hand.

"Okay," she replies, hesitating before rotating.

He gasps as he finally sees it. Her majestic backside. The thong doesn't even attempt to conceal the large, peach-shaped arse. Only her holes are covered.

"I could use these as pillows," he comments in a whisper. "They seem to be the perfect balance of soft and firm." He clicks the shutter again, casting light on her attractive body.

"No more unnecessary comments, please," she grumbles, throwing a glare over her shoulder.

"Got it. Sorry." He chuckles. "You can turn around now."

She does so, keeping her hands at her sides and her gaze lowered. "Let's make this quick."

"Sure thing," Harry says, standing up and taking a step forward. "Can you go back and walk towards me? I'm going to take some moving pictures now. And try to be a bit more… seductive."

She covers her face with her hands. "You don't feel any shame, do you?"

"This is my only chance," he replies, grinning. "You don't think I'll waste it by blushing and stuttering, do you? I actually feel liberated now that you know my feelings. There's nothing to hide now. I don't need to tone down my appreciation for your beauty."

"You should be glad I love you too much," she mutters, walking away.

He's sure that she's aware of his lecherous stare on her butt.

Harry closes one eye and brings the camera near to his other eye, pressing the shutter button instead of clicking it. There's no flash this time. "Now, Mum, walk towards me like you're a model."

She nods jerkily and begins a runway walk, sashaying towards him with a graceful stride, her boobs jiggling slightly with every step.

He keeps his finger on the shutter, recording her movements and creating a moving image. When she reaches him, he releases the shutter, and a photo prints out. Unlike the earlier ones, this isn't static.

"How is it?" she asks, sounding curious and dreadful.

He hands her the picture with a grin. "Scorchingly hot. If you said you were a model, I wouldn't doubt you."

"It's… good." she smiles faintly, glancing at the photo. "I don't think this is enough for you, am I right?"

"We're just getting started," Harry says, taking back the picture. "Now, walk away from me, and add an extra sway to that magnificent arse of yours."

"Harry!" she exclaims, eyes wide with mortification. "I told you, no filthy comments!"

"Sorry, sorry. I'm just too excited."

She glances at the bulge in his shorts. "I can see that. Didn't you just masturbate?"

"You're not even trying to filter your thoughts anymore, are you?"

"What's the point? You already know how I feel about you. Now, please, walk away and make it sexy."

She shoots him an exasperated look, but reluctantly complies with his request. And as she struts away, Harry points the camera at her, at the divine arse of hers. The lens focuses on every subtle movement, every sway of her hips, giving Harry a perfect view.

Once she is done, he prints another moving picture. "Let's get to poses now."

"I was afraid you'd say that." She sighs. "So, what should I do?"

"First, cross your elbows behind your head and jump. I need those tits to bounce."

…

…

"You know, I didn't think you'd ask me to do this when you said I have to 'model' for you." She frowns, crossing her arms under her chest, blinking owlishly when he clicks another surprise picture of hers.

Her unamused look is met with a grin.

"Please, mum. Just do what I say. I won't ask you to do anything like this ever again."

She takes a deep breath, then she puts her arms behind her head and starts to jump, her bra-enwrapped tits bouncing hypnotizingly. They swing up and down and side to side. The large fun bags move in a way that would trap anyone's attention, like a siren's call.

Harry's throat dries up and his cock gives a twitch as he quickly raises his camera to capture this blessing.

As soon as the photo prints out, she stops jumping, her face more red than her hair. "Happy?"

"Elated. Now, give me a few sultry poses."

She doesn't bother with protest this time and simply poses for him for the next few minutes.

"Now, we will get a bit more sexy." He smiles, gesturing to her to come to him.

"That only makes me more apprehensive," she says, though Harry notes that her reluctance is long gone now and she's in the mood. Why, the last few poses were so hot that it nearly made him whip it out.

"Place your hands on the sides of your boobs and press them together."

She purses her lips, regarding him with an intense look. But then she grabs her breasts and pushes them together, rubbing them against each other with an aroused expression.

Harry hastily uses the camera, wishing she was doing this naked. Wait, what if she really does that? He remembers her words: Looking is fine. Flirting is fine. Everything is fine, honestly, until there's real touching.

"Mum, do you mind taking off your bra? We won't be touching, so it won't count as cheating. This pose would look great if you don't have anything on."

She immediately drops the pose and glares at him. "Are you out of your mind? You want me to strip down further? No!"

"Come on, it's not like I haven't seen you naked before," he implores her, fixing her with a beseeching look. "As I said earlier, this is the last I'll ever demand something like this from you. Please."

He almost thinks that she would simply slap him and stomp away, but her trembling hands actually go behind her back. He hears the snap of the clasp, and with a small shrug, she drops it, letting it drift down her breasts.

The ebony bra lands on the floor soundlessly. "This is my limit. Don't even dare to ask me to take off my knickers."

But Harry is speechless, he is too enamoured by her breasts to hear her words. This is the first time he is allowed to gawp at her nude chest longer than a microsecond.

They are astoundingly large. Round and supple. They have a definite volume to them as they stand proud on her torso. The pale milkers sag slightly, naturally. They are too big to stand firm like cones. It would've looked odd if they did. Her areolas are light-pink, perfect circles topping the stunning peaks. And in their centres are erect nipples, not obscenely large, but big enough to be suckable.

He shivers as she grasps her bare breasts, pressing them together. "Take a picture—it'll last longer."

He chuckles at her well-timed joke and snaps the photo.

"Next, bend over the arm of the sofa."

She places her elbows on the armrest and pushes back her arse.

Harry stands behind her, smiling innocently when she looks over her shoulder. "If you touch, we are done."

"I won't," he promises. "But I need to appear as if I'm grinding against you. I just have to angle my camera to make it look like that."

She huffs but looks forward, trusting him.

Her back itself is enticing with the ridge of her spine parting the middle, and as it merges with her curvy backside, it only becomes more alluring.

He licks his lips, suppressing the urge to move closer and crush his crotch on her bubbly behind.

Angling the camera to make it look like they are in contact, he clicks the shutter.

As the desired photo slips out, he gets another idea.

"I can at least grab your hair, can't I?"

Her murderous glare is matched with her blank smile. "That counts as touching."

For once, he decides not to push her.

"Alright. Next, get down on your knees before me."

She shoots him a look that lets him know he is treading a dangerous line, and yet, she drops to her knees on the rug between the sofas, sitting with her legs tucked underneath.

While she gathers her hair and puts it behind her, he pulls out his pulsing cock, letting it tremble dangerously close to her face.

Her eyes widen as she looks up, gawking at his throbbing mast. "What the hell, Harry!"

"Now, I will stroke myself while you look at it googly-eyed and open-mouthed. We won't be touching, of course, so it's still fine." He grins, knowing he is so close to making her blow a gasket.

She grimaces. "I said I'll be your model to take photos, not do this. This is not it, sweetie."

"It's still the same thing. I'll just stroke myself for the time needed to take the moving photo. I won't actually be jerking off." He reassures her, holding his cock with one hand and the camera with the other. "Now, stare at my cock as if it's your God. And do open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

She makes a face, veering herself away from his cock and meeting his eyes. "What if you actually came while I stare at it and 'stick out my tongue'?"

"I won't. Trust me."

Groaning, she nods and takes the position under his cock. Her wide emerald eyes are brimming with wonder as she sticks out her tongue.

Harry moans at the image, pumping his shaft, pressing the shutter of the camera to capture this wet dream of a moment. He never thought his wet dream would actually come true.

He sucks in a sharp breath as the copious amount of precum oils up his length, making it glisten, making his movements smoother and faster.

As the pressure increases, rationality slowly escapes him. "Can I cum? It won't be touching, so we should be fine. It won't be cheating."

"Hell no!" she yells, but he notices that she is still gaping at his cock with devotion, that she still hasn't jumped away.

"Please! Only one time. Let me paint your face! Let me fill your mouth!" He pumps faster, his body shaking, the bellend of his cock pointed at her mouth.

"No means no!" she hisses, and yet, she is still kneeling under him, her eyes fixed on his pecker.

"Just one ti—" He grunts, exploding on her pretty face. Thick strings of white erupts, landing on her.

She gasps and then sputters when some find their way in her mouth.

Harry closes his eyes and squeezes his cock, thrusting into his fist, colouring his dear mum's face with his essence.

When he opens his eyes, he's met with an emotionless mask.

Uh-Oh.

He winces as she silently gets to her feet. She opens her mouth to say something, but then she remembers she still has his cum inside. Gulping it down with horror, she tries again to speak. But no words come out.

Whirling around, she walks away without another word.

Even though he knows he's going to die, Harry cannot help but stare at her arse, too aroused to worry about his impending doom.