Incest/Taboo Beat the Clock: A Mom's Assignment

A new story for you all. I've been toying with the idea of a non-consent/forced story when an idle thought occurred - What if the Creep of my I-Room story had been evil in nature. This story quickly emerged. I hope you like it. Please share your thoughts - positive or negative, they are all useful. As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters within exist only within the realm of my imagination. Enjoy!

To this day, I'm not sure why this happened...only that it did and that it changed my life forever. I suppose I will wonder until the day I die if it was truly a good thing or a bad thing. I certainly didn't have a clue what was in store for me when I picked up the phone...

I am a loan officer with a small regional bank in Indiana. I am married and at the time of this...event, I was forty-three years old. My husband, Dale is a good man, rather too devoted to his job in insurance, but I know he loves me and our kids. At the time of the...event, my daughter Kim, was twenty-one and a junior at a good university in Florida. My son, John, had just turned eighteen and was beginning his senior year in high school. My name is Connie.

I was at work when the call was transferred to my office. "Hi, this is Connie Hall in loans, how can I help you?"

"WELL, CONNIE IN LOANS, IF ALL WORKS OUT, WE WILL BE HELPING EACH OTHER." The voice at the other end was a bit garbled and washed out, as if a real voice was going through some sort of device to disguise it.

"Um, okay. May I ask who's calling please?"

"NO YOU MAY NOT AND DO NOT HANG UP THE PHONE, CONNIE. NOT IF YOU VALUE YOUR FAMILY'S LIFE!"

In truth I was already starting to hang up, we get cranks a lot, mostly people pissed off at the bank for one reason or another, but the last words halted my hand and I slowly drew the phone back to my ear. "Who is this? What are you saying?" I could feel the slightest bit of hysteria in my voice.

"YOU HAVE A TASK AHEAD OF YOU, CONNIE HALL. I HAVE FAITH THAT YOU WILL CARRY IT OUT WITH FLYING COLORS, BUT I KNOW YOU WILL NEED INCENTIVE. IF YOU TRULY LOVE YOUR FAMILY, YOU WILL LISTEN CAREFULLY AND DO WHAT YOU'RE TOLD."

I wasn't sure what was going on. I glanced at the closed door to my small office, wondering if I should try and get someone's attention. Anyone who works in a bank has heard the stories of how criminals will sometimes threaten bank employees' families to extort money. My heart began to race as I wondered if I was about to be used in such a way.

"Surely you don't mean to rob the bank by threatening me and my family? It never works." My mind was racing, trying to remember my family's whereabouts.

"I SAID YOU NEED TO LISTEN CAREFULLY, CONNIE. SHUT UP AND LISTEN OR I'LL MAKE SURE YOUR HUSBAND AND DAUGHTER ARE ON THE EVENING NEWS AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY!"

My heart dropped into my stomach and I felt a wave of dizziness sweep over me. In a small, quiet voice, I replied, "Yes, I'm sorry. I'm listening."

"EXCELLENT. FIRST, LET ME ESTABLISH MY PARTICULARS. I HAVE WATCHED YOU FOR QUITE SOME TIME NOW, CONNIE. YOU ARE UNDER CONSTANT SURVEILLANCE -- MORNING, NOON AND NIGHT. SO IS YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY. RIGHT NOW, YOUR HUSBAND IS FLYING TO RHODE ISLAND FOR A WEEKEND SEMINAR. KIM HAS THREE CLASSES TODAY -- AN ENLIGHTENMENT LITERATURE CLASS, CALCULUS AND A RELIGION & PHILOSOPHY CLASS WHICH IF SHE KEEPS TO HER USUAL HABITS, SHE'LL BLOW OFF TO GET A START ON HER FRIDAY NIGHT PARTYING. YOU EVEN SCOLDED HER THIS MORNING ON THE PHONE ABOUT SLACKING OFF."

My stomach was now doing flip-flops. How did he know about my conversation with my daughter? "H-how did you know that?" I said in a tight whisper. "Is my -- did you bug my phone?"

"I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU, CONNIE. I AM ALWAYS WATCHING AND LISTENING. I KNOW THAT YOUR HUSBAND BOUGHT THE LATEST EDITION OF ESQUIRE THIS MORNING AT THE AIRPORT TO READ ON HIS FLIGHT. I KNOW THAT JOHN MASTURBATED THIS MORNING TO SOME INTERNET PORN BEFORE COMING DOWN FOR BREAKFAST. I KNOW THAT KIM HAD COFFEE AFTER THIS MORNING'S CLASS WITH A BOY SHE HOPES TO SOON FUCK, AND I KNOW YOU ARE WEARING BLACK FRENCH BIKINI PANTIES RIGHT AT THIS MOMENT."

"Omigod," I said as I felt myself on the verge of fainting. I tried to steady my breathing until the black clouds at the edge of my vision began to fade. My heart seemed so loud as it pounded inside my chest. How did he know what I was wearing? Dale and John had both left the house before I'd showered and dressed for work. I'd seen them off still wearing an old flannel nightgown. "What do you want? I can try and get you money, but I'm not sure how much I can manage." Who was this guy and how did he know all this? Did he have cameras in our home?

"I HAVE NO INTEREST IN MONEY. I AM NOT TRYING TO ROB YOUR BANK. THIS IS MORE...PERSONAL. CONNIE, I WANT YOU TO FUCK YOUR SON."

Silence hung between us as my brain tried to process what the caller had said. His words seemed to jumble up in my mind, nonsensical at first. Not wanting money? Sex? Fucking...to fuck my...my son?" I ran my hand through my hair, rubbing my scalp furiously as if to get my brain to warm up and work. "Wait...what? You want me to what?" I babbled, trying to give myself time to process what he had said.

"YOU HEARD ME, CONNIE. YOU ARE GOING TO FUCK YOUR SON. YOU WILL SPREAD YOUR LEGS AND LET JOHN BURY HIS COCK INSIDE YOU!"

"I can't do that!" I cried as his words suddenly crashed in on me, sending shivers of revulsion through me. "That's awful!"

"OH, I ASSURE YOU THAT YOU CAN DO IT, CONNIE AND THAT YOU WILL DO IT. LISTEN CAREFULLY, CONNIE, BECAUSE THE CLOCK IS NOW RUNNING. YOU WILL SEDUCE AND FUCK YOUR SON BY MIDNIGHT TONIGHT OR YOUR HUSBAND AND DAUGHTER WILL NOT LIVE TO SEE TOMORROW'S SUNRISE!"

I let out a sob and covered my mouth to stifle it. I struggled to regain control, finally blurting out, "I can't. John would never...for God's sake, I'm his mother!"

"YOU WILL, CONNIE, YOU WILL FUCK HIM OR THE REST OF YOUR FAMILY DIES. PAY ATTENTION NOW. IF YOU TRY AND EXPLAIN TO YOUR SON WHAT IS HAPPENING, YOUR HUSBAND AND DAUGHTER DIE. SHOULD YOU CALL YOUR HUSBAND OR DAUGHTER AND ATTEMPT TO WARN THEM, THEY WILL BE DEAD BEFORE YOU HANG UP THE PHONE. SAME THING APPLIES SHOULD YOU TRY AND CONTACT THE AUTHORITIES. I WILL KILL THEM!"

A cold shiver ran through my body as this almost inhuman voice calmly told me his rules. Any thought of calling the police or the FBI evaporated in the cold certainty of his words. I absolutely believed that he would do what he said he would do.

"WHAT TIME IS IT, CONNIE?"

For a moment, his unexpected question caught me off guard. I struggled for a moment to understand and then looked down at my watch...the lovely gold wristwatch Dale had given me for our 20th Anniversary. I swallowed and replied, "It's a few, um minutes to twelve, um noon."

"GOOD. DO WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER, CONNIE? YOU HAVE JUST OVER TWELVE HOURS TO SEDUCE YOUR SON AND MAKE HIM YOUR LOVER. FAILURE TO DO SO BY MIDNIGHT WILL RESULT IN DALE'S AND KIM'S DEATH. YOU ARE NOW RACING AGAINST THE CLOCK, CONNIE. YOUR SON USUALLY GETS HOME FROM CLASSES AROUND THREE -- I'D START PREPARING IF I WERE YOU."

"Oh God, yes, I think I understand. After I fuck my...after it happens, how do I get in touch?"

There was an almost obscene chuckle at the other end. "TRUST ME, CONNIE. THE FIRST TIME JOHN SINKS HIS COCK INSIDE HIS MOTHER'S CUNT, I'LL KNOW." He laughed again and then continued, "OH, AND CONNIE?"

"Y-yes?" I replied, fearful of what he might demand of me next.

"ENJOY YOURSELF."

He hung up then, the line going dead for a moment and then it seemed as if the entire room was filled with that terrible drone of a dial tone. I sat there in total shock, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The entire conversation had only lasted a few minutes. My entire world turned upside down in the span of a short telephone conversation.

I broke down crying -- sobbing loudly as the terribleness of the situation just overwhelmed me. There was no way I could do what the caller demanded and yet I was consumed by a terrible certainty that if I didn't do this...if I didn't somehow seduce my son and fuck him, this madman would kill the rest of my family. If he had me under surveillance, there was no way I could go to the police for help. Even so, my hand was already reaching for the phone to dial 9-1-1, before I realized what I was doing. My fingers hovered over the phone set for several minutes as my mind raced and tried to find another solution. Nothing came to mind and I shivered with fear and worry until the clock on my desk gave a gentle bong and I jumped, startled out of my reverie of fear and disbelief. I glanced at the digital device's readout display. It was 12:00 P.M. It was noon.

Twelve hours. I had twelve hours. That suddenly became the overwhelming thought in my head. I made my decision. My hands punched up a number on the phone and I said, "Dora? Connie here. I've had a family emergency come up and I'm taking the rest of the day. Let everyone know, okay." Words of concern and sympathy came back and I replied, "No, everything will be okay, I think, but I have to go take care of some things. Have a good weekend, hun."

Five minutes later, I was in my car, driving towards home and wondering how the hell I was going to do what I was being forced to do. A terrible thought of "Is this some weird trick of John's?" occurred to me, but I dismissed that out of hand. I know that many reading my story assume that every son wants to fuck his mother and vice-versa, but I had never seen even a hint of sexual interest from my son. Not that John didn't like girls -- he'd peeked a few times at his sister when he hit puberty and I'd found porn on his computer, mostly young women with huge breasts and some lesbian things. I'd scolded him mildly, but wrote it off as normal and to be honest, healthy. And then there are my son's social skills or lack of them.

John's a shy boy -- eighteen now and I think he's only ever actually asked three girls out on date and only two ever accepted and there were no repeat performances. I haven't been able to get my son to trade in his glasses for contacts and he's just a shade on the husky side. I hate to admit it, but his sister's favorite term for him -- nerd, is very accurate. He's a bookworm -- happier with a thick fantasy novel than most anything else. He tends to clam up whenever a young woman is in the room. My greatest fear now was that if I just asked John to fuck me, he'd run and lock himself in his room -- even if I wasn't his Mom.

And it's not like I'm anyone's idea of a -- what do they call it? I'm not a MILF. I'm forty-three years old and stand five foot, four inches tall. I'm a good twenty pounds over what my appropriate weight should be. I have 38DD breasts -- not those artificial beach balls that my son seems to like looking at, but heavy and somewhat sagging breasts and a little bit of a belly. I have short blonde -- almost white hair and blue eyes, which are the only good things I inherited from the Swedes on my mother's side of the family. My legs aren't too bad, but my thighs are thicker than I want or what I'd consider attractive, despite hours and hours on the treadmill. In my greatest leaps of imagination, I couldn't imagine my son finding me sexy.

I began mulling over how I could pull this off and each idea seemed doomed to failure. How the hell does one make their son think of them as someone they'd like to fuck? I got out of downtown and on the expressway leading home. Suddenly I saw an exit sign that named one of our area's largest malls. Inspiration or maybe simple desperation struck and I crossed three lanes of traffic, leaving honking horns and some obscene gestures in my wake. I had the vaguest hint of an idea and little time to get what I needed.

I smiled then, no doubt a strained, even horrific smile, but a smile nonetheless as the thought occurred that in order to save my family, I needed to do a little shopping.

I'm not sure how I did it, but by three- thirty, when I expected to hear my son's old Dodge come rumbling up the driveway, I had everything in place for what I was hoping would be a successful seduction. I could barely believe I could actually contemplate such a thing, but terrible images of Dale and Kim keep me on my path. I began to panic as it was another hour before I heard John pull into the driveway.

I was in the kitchen pulling some brownies out of the oven when I heard him unlock the front door. I heard the thump of books being dumped on the couch and his footsteps treading down the hallway towards me. "Hi, sweetie," I called out. "Welcome home!"

Before he came through the doorway, I could hear him say, "Mom! You're home early, what's up?" I heard his feet come to a sudden halt and I knew he was surprised about more than me being home early.

Since the days when he was little and we could take a bath together, he'd not seen me showing off this much skin and I doubt he really remembered doing that anyway. I'd found a little sundress -- intentionally a bit small for me, that tied in a halter around my neck with a plunging neckline and an even deeper plunge in back, almost to my hips and with a hemline that ended barely south of my crotch. I was wearing "fuck me" pumps that I thought improved the look of my legs and with my back to him and bent over in front of the oven, I'm sure he was getting a real good view of my bikini clad ass.

I looked over my shoulder at him and said, "Yeah, decided to take the afternoon off -- hit the mall and buy a few new things. What do you think of my new dress?"

John swallowed -- his eyes widening and his face turning bright red even before he managed to mutter. "It's um, real pretty, Mom. Uh, I got some homework to...um, do." I hoped him blushing was a good thing and idly wondered how much I was blushing. I felt so embarrassed being dressed like that in front of my own son.

John began to beat a retreat, but I straightened up and turned with a tray of my secret weapons in hand. "Oh honey, you got the entire weekend to do that. I thought with Dad off doing another business trip, you and I could have some quality time together." I lifted the tray, feeling the warmth radiating across my mostly uncovered breasts. My heart was beating in fear as I said, "I made your favorite -- brownies!"

John actually took a step or two towards the hallway, but then the scent of my homemade brownies reached him and his teenaged appetite won out over his shock at his mother's shameful outfit and he looked hungrily down at them. "C'mon, son -- fresh out of the oven -- all hot and gooey, the way you like them."

He swallowed and then nodded, sliding into a seat at the kitchen table as he focused his attention on the sweets and not on his mother's body. I sat the tray down in front of him and then crossed the room to get us some plates and forks. I came up behind him and reached around to set the plate in front of him, leaning my body into his, my breasts mashing against his back.

"To tell the truth, I've been looking forward to spending some time alone with my baby boy. Soon, you'll be going off to college and getting married and having kids and I'll never see you," I said, still leaning into him as I reached around and cut a brownie out of the pan and set it into his plate.

My son shifted nervously in his seat, making my breasts rub against him all the more which I suppose explained the rise of goose bumps along his arms. "Yeah, me married and kids -- that'll be the day," he said in that tone of sarcasm that only a teenager can create.

I finished by giving him a big hug, pulling him tight against my body as I said, "Oh some girl is going to be mighty lucky when she manages to snag you!" I leaned my head in and kissed John on the cheek and said in a lower, huskier voice, "Very lucky." Then, feeling my face burn with embarrassment, I let him go and hurried to the sink, facing away from him to keep him from seeing my reddened face. I hoped he was still watching me, but was afraid to turn around and see.

I busied myself with washing the dirty dishes in the sink and worked to keep the conversation alive. "So, how was school today?" I asked.

I heard my son give a snort and then say through a mouthful of brownies, "Sucked as usual. I'll be so glad to graduate. That civics teacher is a real bore."

I kept up the inquiring questions and John let me know how much he disliked school. Finally, I said, "Well, I'm sorry your day sucked, honey. I've had some fun -- I played hooky all afternoon and went shopping." I took a deep breath and turned to face my son and was rewarded to see that he was staring at me as he ate.

He ducked his head down to avoid my gaze and paying attention to his brownie, asked me the leading question I had hoped he would ask. "You never take off work, Mom. What's the special occasion?"

I came over to the table and sat down across from him, crossing my arms and resting them on the table, using them to push my breasts up, making them overflow the low cut front even more. "Well, sweetie, I've been thinking. You know I got a nice raise recently?"

John nodded and ate more of his brownie, trying as he did to look me in the eye, but unable to keep his gaze from drifting down to the exposed flesh of my big breasts.

"I thought that during your fall break, your dad and I could take some days off and we take a family trip down to the Bahamas. I got the urge to go buy some new things to wear on the trip, like this little dress."

John nodded again and said, "Um, yeah, that'd be awesome, Mom -- if Dad would take the time." He rolled his eyes. "You know how he is."

It was my turn to nod and I replied, "Yes, I do and that's the whole point. We could all go down -- you can hang out on the beach and watch the girls in their bikinis and maybe your Dad and I could spice up our love life a little." I gave my son a wink and then giggled, "If you know what I mean?"

The redness in John's face which had begun to fade now flamed anew and he got a panicked look on his face and exclaimed, "Aw, geezus, Mom! I mean...Geezus!"

I laughed and reached out and took his hand. "Oh, don't act embarrassed, sweetie. You're eighteen now -- you're a man. You know your father and I do it...at least we used to. Otherwise, how did we get you?"

John was going on instinct, trying to push away from the table, but unable to while I held his hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know, but for crying out loud, Mom -- TMI!"

I tried to look a little hurt. "Sorry -- but I, I don't know, I don't think it's that big a deal. We're both adults at this table." I looked down at the table. "I mean, you're eighteen now -- a grown man. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." I felt a little ashamed as I tried to make him feel a little guilty.

Maybe it worked though, as I felt his hand relax a little in my grip and in a meek voice, John replied, "You didn't make me feel uncomfortable, Mom. It's just...I'm not sure I want to hear about yours and Dad's sex life."

"Or lack thereof," I said right back and looked up at him, offering him a little smile. "Of course, honey -- I don't expect to talk to you about your father and I in the sack." I felt his hand begin to tense up again under my fingers. "But, you're not blind. You know that your father and I have kind of drifted apart these last few years."

I took a deep breath and plunged on. "All I mean to say is, I thought maybe a romantic vacation on a warm beach somewhere might put the spark back into our lives. I went shopping to get a few things that might get the old engines revved back up." I winked at my son again and was relieved to see him nodding -- still looking uncomfortable, but not appearing to be ready to flee the room.

We sat there for a long, quiet moment and then I looked into his eyes again and in a softer, shyer tone, I said, "You know, I really could use another man's opinion right now."

John eyed me warily and said, "Opinion on what, Mom?"

"Well, I'd like to get a man's perspective on some of my outfits -- you know, how I look in them. I'd hate to wear something and it turns out your father hates it."

John's face reddened again. "I don't know, Mom -- you mean like swimsuits. He shifted in his chair again as if he couldn't get comfortable. "I'm not sure I can, uh, should."

"Awww, c'mon, honey. I really need a man's opinion and you're definitely a man," giving his hand another squeeze. I pleaded, "You're my son -- you'd tell me the truth and besides, who else could I ask, Mr. Turner down the street?"

At that we both laughed and the tension seemed to break. Mr. Turner was an old letch that lived on our block -- well known for his proclivity to somehow turn up in a person's back yard whenever a woman was trying to sunbathe.

John sighed, still looking very uncomfortable, but he suddenly shrugged his shoulders and said, "I guess I could -- anything to save you from old man Turner."

I let go of his hand and jumped to my feet. "Really?" I exclaimed, sounding like an excited schoolgirl. "Just sit right there -- get another brownie if you want. I'll go change!" I rushed away, hurrying to the downstairs bathroom where I'd left some things. My heart was beating in my chest so hard I could scarcely breathe.

In the bathroom, I tried to quickly change, but my hands were shaking so much, it was difficult. I slipped out of the dress and my underwear and slipped on the first of three swimsuits I'd bought at a risqué lingerie store in the mall. It was a sand colored tankini -- a somewhat modest tank top and a French cut bikini bottom.

I gazed at myself in the mirror like a nervous girl about to go on a first date. Like the dress, I'd bought it a couple of sizes too small and the top hugged my heavy, drooping breasts like a second skin, leaving no doubt as to their shape and heft. My nipples stood out against the fabric -- I even imagined I could see the small bumps of my aureoles as well.

Still wearing my "fuck me" heels, I walked back down the hall, pausing to take a deep breath before I threw my shoulders back and strode into the kitchen. "Well, honey, what do you think?" I said in a voice of forced cheerfulness, striking a pose in front of my son.

John stared back, his fork suspended in mid air as his eyes took in the sight of his mother in her swimsuit. I tried to see myself in his eyes -- a middle-aged woman wearing a tank top that molded itself against her chest, leaving almost nothing to the imagination as to what her tits were like. I shivered as my son's gaze roamed downward and I felt oddly embarrassed that he might notice my round belly pooching out above the low cut bikini bottom, finding that I was idly wishing I had a flatter, more attractive stomach. I felt a flush of warmth wash across my face and neck as John's eyes moved lower, studying the tight expanse of cloth that covered my mound.

I shifted nervously on my feet as John continued to look appraisingly up and down. "Well, what do you think, son?" I asked. I felt so skittish that I couldn't stand still and I slowly turned around, feeling silly as I thrust my butt out a little. "Does this outfit look alright?"

It seemed like it took my son a moment or two for my question to sink in and then he slowly nodded his head up and down, a shy smile on his face as he continued to study my body and say, "Oh yeah, Mom. Dad's gonna love it! You look great!"

I felt a great sense of relief and was grinning from ear to ear as I responded, "That's so sweet! Think you can stand to look at another one?" John's shy smile turned into a silly grin as he shrugged and nodded. I felt strangely pleased and shot him another wink before I hurried out of the room, suddenly realizing that in my haste, I was giving him a show of bouncing breasts.

Back in the bathroom, I was surprised to find that I was breathing heavily and that there was a deep flush across my cheeks and neck and upper chest. I immediately dismissed any thought that I might be in any way aroused from my mind and focused on changing into my next outfit.

After looking in the mirror this time, it was a little harder to make myself move out of the small bathroom. That's not to say that the light blue bikini I was wearing was all that scandalous -- Kim would probably laugh herself silly that I would be embarrassed to be seen in it. It was, no doubt almost prudish compared to what she wore on the beaches in Florida. The bikini top was modest -- although, having again picked a garment of smaller size than I should've, my meaty breasts were overflowing the cups and the thin material left no doubt as to how dark my nipples were. The bottom part of the suit was little better. I have no doubt that if the material were to ever get wet, it would cleave to my pussy like it had been painted on, revealing the shape and contours of my labia.

Taking a deep breath, I moved out, my 'fuck me' heels clicking on the wooden floors. Knowing full well my son could hear me coming, I still called out, "Ready or not, here I come."

John was waiting and his eyes widened as I came strutting in, my breast flesh bouncing and jiggling as I moved into the room. Pleased with his expression, I charted a course all the way around the table, letting him see me from all angles. I even teasingly reached out and trailed my fingers through his thick, dark hair as I strolled around him.

I came to a stop in front of him and swiveled my upper body back and forth, knowing how the movement made my breasts roll and bounce. I didn't have to urge him to make an observation this time. "Mom, you look fantastic!" John said with real enthusiasm in his voice. Through his glasses, I could see his eyes flickering up and down, taking in my bikini-clad body again and again.

Again I felt a strange tingle of pleasure at my son's words, a tingle that sparked both at the tips of my nipples and between my legs...a tingle that had been sadly absent too often in my life in recent years. I felt weird and ashamed, but was surprised that there was a part of me that really enjoyed hearing him talk like that...to hear the enthusiasm in his voice.

"Really?" I said. "You don't think its too um, much, do you?"

If anything else was causing my son's face to be that dark a shade of red, I'd have been rushing him to the hospital, but I admired his effort to act nonchalant as he shook his hand in an expression of dismissal. "No, Mom -- it looks...you're beautiful!" he responded in a tight voice.

Again, I could feel my grin stretch across my face -- beaming appreciatively at my son for his generous words. I replied, "Thank you, baby. Do you think you can stand to see one more outfit?"

John's eyes roaming busily over my mostly naked body just nodded and said a bit too enthusiastically, "Sure, Mom!"

I hurried out, letting him get another look at my bouncing breasts (and upon later embarrassed reflection -- my meaty ass cheeks). Back in the bathroom, I stripped down quickly, pausing as I stepped out of my bikini bottoms to stare at the new stain in the gusset. I shivered as I realized that I was wet between my legs -- wet enough that in just a few minutes I had stained my swimsuit with my own juices. I turned the panties around and stared at the crotch -- there was just a hint of discoloration from my pussy cream -- I doubted that my son could have noticed it.

I paused and looked at myself naked in the full length mirror on the bathroom door and was amazed at what I saw. My breasts were heaving heavily, nipples thick and erect and amongst my wispy blonde pubic hair I could see glistening pink flesh as my labia had begun to swell and part. I hung my head in shame, knowing that what I was doing was a sin, but even worse, that this contemplated sin was turning me on.

Finally, I broke myself out of my reverie and moved to dress in my final outfit. It took me much longer to work up the courage to leave the bathroom than it did to put the outfit on. I'm sure even my daughter, Kim, would be appalled at the mockery of a bikini that I was wearing now. What little fabric it had was composed of, was a bright fire-engine red and consisted of three small swatches of fabric and some thin, threadlike strings. My breasts were totally exposed except for my aureoles and nipples which jutted out against the cloth like little door knobs. The bikini bottom -- a thong more or less, didn't adequately cover my wispy bush and I could only hope that the light in the kitchen wouldn't reveal the strands of whitish blonde hair peeking out of the bit of material that just barely managed to cover my mound.

I finally managed to open the door and step out into the hall, only to halt and try to control the sudden violent tremors that racked my body. I was ashamed. I was scared. And, God help me, I was inexplicably turned on. The heat between my thighs was akin to that I'd felt on my wedding night and as I realized that, I suddenly understood that I was feeling exactly like that virgin bride so many years ago -- nervous, embarrassed and very excited. I took several deep breaths and finally was steady enough to move out.

As I approached the doorway into the kitchen, my pace picked up and I strode determinedly into the room, forcing a smile on my face as I paraded practically naked in front of my son.

I couldn't even speak as I strutted across the tile floor, breasts bouncing and threatening to flop out of their tiny halter with every step. All I could do was keep my eyes steady on my son -- praying his reaction wouldn't be to run out of the house, terrified at his mother's sudden insanity.

John's mouth hung wide open and his eyebrows lifted high on his forehead as he ogled his middle-aged mother, my pale Nordic skin exposed almost completely for him, seeing every freckle and curve of my breasts and as I turned around for him, a completely total view of my ass cheeks, thong buried deep in my ass crack and tugging against my mound with every move I made.

A minute, maybe more passed as I posed and walked around the room for my son, waiting for his reaction. His eyes stayed glued to my body, John completely focused as if memorizing my every curve. Finally, still unable to trust my voice, I made a motion with my hand as if to say, "Well? What do you think?"

John remained motionless, only his eyes seeming to work until finally he closed his mouth and licked his lips and in a rough, husky voice that made something turn liquid between my legs, said, "Mom...my God. You are....Mom, Dad will never let you outside in that...in that, um outfit."

I felt crushed and disappointed in a way I wouldn't have expected -- emotions joined by raw fear that I'd disgusted him and that any chance I had to save Dale and Kim were disappearing before my eyes. "Oh God," I moaned almost in tears. "I look that bad, John?"

John slowly shook his head from side to side, his eyes never leaving me. "Noooo, Mom!" He said in a rush. "Dad would have a heart attack trying to beat all the other men at the beach off you." My son took a deep breath and gushed, "Mom, you are too sexy for your own good! That suit should be illegal!" John grinned guiltily and shrugged.

I grinned back at my son, unable to control my smile. I felt like I'd just had the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders. I felt lightheaded and suddenly incredibly warm all at the same time. "You mean you like it, John?"

"Mom, I love that outfit -- I mean, Mom, you are freaking hot!"

I shoved aside my relief that I didn't turn my son off and instead embraced the feelings of delight that my son was saying I was sexy. I pushed the envelope further and walking up to the kitchen table, put my hands on the table and leaned forward, well aware that my breasts were now hanging down like two full udders, barely contained by the bikini. "Are you saying I'm a MILF, son?" I asked John in a coy, flirtatious voice.

John's face regained its dark red tone as he realized what I was saying and his bashfulness reasserted itself and he tore his eyes away from my swaying breasts, looking down as he mumbled, "I, um, guess so!"

Silence filled the room as we both processed his response. John finally scooted back his chair and said, "I really should get cracking on my homework, Mom."

His words barely registered as I could now see the crotch of my son's school khakis, amazed to see the large bulge in his pants, a long tube running down his left inner thigh. Fireworks seemed to explode in my brain as I heard my inner voice screaming, "YOU JUST MADE YOUR SON'S COCK HARD, CONNIE!" Again, I could hear my caller's voice laughing at me.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry and said, "Sure, baby, go ahead. I'm -- I think I'm going to take a shower before we decide what to do about dinner." Then I recovered enough to come around the table as my son stood up, him trying to turn away to hide his obvious erection. I pressed myself against his side, my breasts enveloping his right arm and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

"Thanks for making your mother feel good, son!" I whispered after I gave him a lingering peck on the cheek. I paused, holding myself against him as he turned and looked down at me -- unable to meet my gaze, his eyes wandering further south to look at the hard tipped and barely covered nipples grazing his arm and chest.

He nodded and then unable to handle the moment anymore, whispered, "Sure, I love you, Mom," and then he fled for the stairs and the safety of his room. I watched him go, smiling lovingly at him whenever he glanced back in his retreat until he disappeared from sight. I retreated to the downstairs bathroom, growing shakier with every step.

Inside, I tore the strips of cloth off me, shivering as I turned on the shower and letting it run until steam began to billow out. I could barely stand and I wondered if I was having a heart attack or a stroke as I unsteadily stepped into the stall. I let the hot water cascade across my body and then as I ran my shaky hand across my flesh -- over my breasts and down across my stomach, I understood what was wrong with me as my fingers instinctively ventured to my swollen labia and spliced through my dripping lips. I was aroused and needed relief!

I fell back again the shower wall -- the tiles cool and comforting against my hot skin while the pulsing jets of the water played over my pussy as I begin to work my fingers up and down my suddenly needy flesh. I closed my eyes and slipped two fingers inside my slick cunt, images of that large bulge in my son's pants flashing before me. I could see myself kneeling before him and unzipping his khakis, reaching in, wrapping fingers around that warm, hard pole and then bringing it out...

I shuddered with an incredible wave of pleasure -- heralding the approach of a huge orgasm and I snapped open my eyes and jerked my fingers from my clasping pussy, sobbing with frustration and shame and disbelief at my own actions. I could scarcely believe it -- I had masturbated thinking about my own son! Part of me laughed sardonically -- I felt ashamed because I had almost gotten myself off thinking of John, yet I planned on fucking him before midnight.

That brought me back to reality -- that and the sudden remembrance of why I was going to fuck my son -- images of my husband and daughter flashed through my head. Trembling now with frustration, I climbed from the shower, hoping that in denying myself satisfaction I might give myself an edge -- that perhaps my frustration might help inspire me to achieve my goal. Slivers of pleasure echoed through my body as I imagined my son on me, in me. I took a deep breath and moved to the next stage of my plan.

Naked and dripping wet in more ways than one, I opened the door and yelled, "John, help!"

I had to repeat myself before I heard his bedroom door open and he called down from the stairs, "What's wrong, Mom?"

"Honey, there's no towels down here, can you bring me one from the linen closet?"

There was a long pause and I hoped it was because my son was imaging his mother, wet and naked, then he said in a slightly hoarse voice, "I'll be right there, Mom." I heard him walk down the upstairs hallway and then come back and like all teenagers, he came tromping down the stairs. I peeked out at him from the doorway, only my head and bare shoulder showing as I watched him approach. His face was a fiery red again -- I hoped over me. Then I withdrew moving so that he couldn't see me from the door and held out my hand. I hoped I had this figured right.

"Here you go, Mo..." My son's voice simply failed as he handed me a bath towel and from the angle he was standing at the door, he found himself staring at his naked mother in the mirror over the sink. I took my sweet time taking the towel from him and then as he continued to stand there as if pole-axed, instead of covering up, I whipped the towel behind me and began drying my backside, my heavy breasts swaying and bouncing as I worked the towel back and forth.

From my point of view, the mirror showed my son's pants begin to tent up again and after a minute or so, I winked at him, causing him to look at me with shock and alarm and then he started to move away, back towards the stairs. I quickly followed, bringing the towel around and sort of holding in front of me, I stepped out into the hallway and said, "John?"

My son froze in his steps and slowly turned around and I wasn't sure if it was relief or disappointment in his face when he saw me -- breasts mostly exposed and the edge of the towel just below my crotch. He swallowed a couple of times and said, "Yeah, Mom?" There was fear in his voice and I suddenly realized he thought he was being busted for ogling his naked mother.

"I'm sorry to ask -- I guess I'm having a real blonde moment, but I left my undies upstairs on the bed, would you be sweet and bring them down to me?"

Again, I wasn't sure if there was relief or disappointment in his expression, but he nodded and said, "Sure thing, Mom," and hurried upstairs, walking awkwardly with the stiff pole in his pants.

I retreated back into the bathroom and began drying myself while I waited for the next stage of my plan to kick in. A minute or two dragged by and then I heard John call down from upstairs. "Uh, Mom -- um, which pair of your...uh undies did you want?"

I grinned at my reflection in the mirror at the sound of discomfort in my son's voice. I'd left three pair of panties on the bed -- all bought earlier in the day at the lingerie store. The tamest of them had a see-through crotch. The other two were crotchless panties, a pair of silky red ones and a pair of lacy black ones. I felt that tingle between my legs again as I imagined John standing upstairs holding them, picturing me wearing them.

"It doesn't matter, sweetheart. Just pick one and bring them down to Momma!" I responded in a flirty voice.

Another couple of minutes passed and as I heard John's footsteps, I delayed bringing my towel up to cover myself properly until it was just a few seconds too late, again giving my son a glimpse of his mother naked. He hung back at the door as I wrapped the towel around me and then walked up to him.

Holding my black crotchless panties gingerly, he extended his arm and handed them to me. "Ooooh, good choice, son," I purred, shaking them out and slipping my fingers through the open crotch. I wiggled my fingers at him through the open area and said, "Again, I guess I need a man's opinion. If you were my husband, would you like these?"

John just stood there, eyes wandering back and forth between my lacy, slutty panties and the jiggling globes of flesh my towel barely concealed. He licked his lips, looking pained and no wonder considering the size of the bulge in his pants. His hands were trembling and he rubbed them on the sides of his khakis nervously as if trying to keep them busy lest they do other things. "Um, yeah. I think Dad is gonna love them, Mom."​