Incest/Taboo Suspicious Mom

That evening, my mind didn't stray to my suspicions about Stefan even once; I had more than enough to think about with Jeff and his group. I should have been mad, I should have been horrified, and to some extent, I was. But I couldn't deny that the thought of my son sharing pictures of mature, well-cared for women with nice figures in various states of undress, fascinated me. Women my age. That realization retrieved the memory of Jeff looking at me as I lay on the couch worrying about whether my loose skirt had left me inappropriately exposed. Did I remind him of the women in the pictures? Had he really been looking at my legs?

As we sprawled out on our respective couches that night, I let the book drag my skirt farther down my legs than would normally feel comfortable. I made a distinct effort not to look up and, though I couldn't be sure, I thought I felt Jeff's eyes on my legs, warming them from my knees to my bottom. I tingled with an odd delight from my daring exposure. As before, but this time with distinct purpose, I trailed my fingers up and down the underside of my thigh. Both the sensation in my legs and the conviction that Jeff was watching grew stronger. I was now certain it wasn't just my imagination.

I protested again when Jeff offered to make tea about nine o'clock. I was enjoying displaying my legs and teasing Jeff with my languid strokes, so deliciously naughty, but he was very insistent. I pouted like a little girl but reluctantly went along with his wishes. It felt dumb but at the same time exciting to be playing such a girlish role. Half an hour later, I let Jeff help me to my room, for some reason acting more drowsy than I really was.

I woke up the next day, fully dressed as I expected. My skirt was only partly flipped up but my blouse was incorrectly buttoned again, as if done in haste. My panties, the normal kind this time, were still on but they weren't pulled all the way up. I guess I'd had another restless night. In testament to that, I'd slept in very late. It was almost noon.

I was halfway to the bathroom when I suddenly stopped and pulled my skirt up to examine my panties. They weren't the ones I'd worn yesterday! I was sure of it. I walked to my dresser and opened my underwear drawer. All my panties, so neatly folded and placed there the day before, were bunched into a messy pile!

I stumbled back several steps until the back of my legs hit the edge of the mattress and I sat down on the bed. Could Jeff be taking pictures of me at night for his group? How could that be. Surely I wasn't so tired I wouldn't wake up with the flash of a camera? Was he putting something in the tea?

I felt suddenly nauseous and bent over, hand on my stomach. When the feeling passed, I got up and half ran to Jeff's room, sat down, and shook the mouse. The screen lit up; the program was still running. Quickly, I clicked on the links until I found the history of exchanged messages. I scanned through them until I found the one from Jeff, the one with the woman with the wide open legs and the puffy panties. I stared, and stared.

Numbly, I got up and went back to my room. I rummaged through my drawer until I found them. Carrying the evidence back to Jeff's room, I compared them to the picture on the screen. Pale blue panties with a darker blue floral design on the front. They were a match! Those were my legs, wide open for all to see, including the little mole on the inside of my left thigh just outside of the panty leg.

Rage surged through my veins. How could shame me like this, his own mother?

Angrily, I scanned the messages, opening every one sent by Jeff. Not all held pictures. Some, especially the early ones, simply described my appearance. It was all very flattering. I was beautiful, Jeff informed the group. He wished they could see my face but the strict privacy rules forbid it. Soon, he promised, he would contribute pictures showing my body. In subsequent exchanges, several members of the group reminded him of his promise. In fact, he was required to do so or he would face eviction from the group. Membership was based upon mutual exchange.Be patient, he responded. My Mom has an amazing body. You won't be disappointed, he explained, but I can only get pictures at certain times of the month.

I cringed. Jeff had waited until his father left town. That's why I was so tired when Stefan was away. I wasn't suffering from stress, my son was drugging me so he could take pictures to share with these little web weasels.
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The next few hours were a nightmare. I couldn't get the pictures out of my mind, or the thought of those little creeps drooling over them, probably beating their little pricks in front of their computers while their own unsuspecting mothers were nearby, unaware of what the little sneaks would get up to at night.

I pondered how to put a stop to this and teach Jeff a lesson at the same time. Somehow, I had to catch him in the act, as unpleasant as that would be. I'd have to switch my tea but make him think I had drunk it, then act drugged and wait until he snuck into my room, camera in hand. And then I'd let him have it.

I began to feel better, in control. I smiled at a new thought. I'd egg him on tonight, make him really eager to get started and hopefully less cautious in case my acting wasn't a hundred percent. It might even make the shock of getting caught more devastating. I went downtown shopping and was waiting when Jeff arrived home, early again.

"Hey, Mom. What's cooking?"

Lot's, I thought but simply answered, "Stew."

"Stew?" his face contorted into a grimace.

"You can't have your favorite meal all the time. I like stew."

"Okay. I guess it isn't that bad."

I stirred the pot, keeping my back half-turned toward my son. I could feel his eyes on me, like little heat rays. I was wearing a new pair of jeans, the stretchy kind the young girls wore that dipped low in the front to show off their bellies and the curve of their bare hips. They were short-legged, revealing half of my tanned calves, accented by the height of the heeled sandals that reached up to wrap around my ankles. These shoes did a marvelous job of tensing the muscles in my legs and that's why I had bought them that afternoon.

To top it off, I wore a blouse knotted underneath my breasts, leaving a wide expanse of exposed tummy. Thank the Lord for all those crunches and yoga and the many years that had elapsed since bearing my last child. The material of the blouse, while not sufficiently transparent to see through, was nevertheless flimsy enough to define my upper assets quite well, especially with the help of the delicate, black push-up half bra underneath.

"Are you going out tonight?" Jeff asked, his voice abnormally thick.

"Nope," I replied. "I just felt like shopping for some new things before your father gets home."

I knew exactly when he discovered the bags I'd left on the chair at the far end of the kitchen table. His breathing changed and his eyes returned to me almost right away. I felt them heating my bottom. He'd obviously recognized the name of the lingerie store.

Wicked tendrils slithered through my brain. As I monitored the stove, I tensed the muscles in alternate legs, shifting my weight from foot to foot, then cocked one hip while I stirred, allowing my rear end to sway slightly in reaction to my swirling arm. You're going to regret this, young man, I thought, as I considered the lesson I would confer upon my son later that night.

I had considered telling Stefan but decided against it. He wouldn't understand. He'd fly off the handle and banish Jeff from our home. Certainly, he'd been sneaky and had done a bad thing but he was, after all, just going through a phase. Yes, he had gone beyond the oedipital crush but that was probably because of his age; most boys went through this as teenagers, not when they were twenty like Jeff. I struck teasing poses for a while longer, then asked Jess to watch the pot while I went upstairs to get changed for dinner.

"You don't need to get changed Mom, he protested. "You look great."

I laughed to myself at that. Obviously, I had displayed my wares well.

"Watch the pot," I insisted. "I've turned it off, but it needs to be stirred."

I walked slowly away, giving Jeff's eyes time to follow my swaying form. I didn't look back as I climbed the stairs but I was sure he poked his head out the door to watch me from below. I felt deliciously wicked. This was kind of fun. Why shouldn't I enjoy this part, especially since the confrontation later tonight wouldn't be any fun at all. I waited two minutes, then called downstairs.

"Jeff. Can you please bring my bags upstairs?"

Jeff appeared at my door less than a minute later. I acted surprised to see him, though I had just called him up. My jeans were in a pile beside the bed and my blouse was unbuttoned almost all the way. It was a long one and the tail hung low, just covering my ass. I turned toward him as he entered, so he could see the half-bra stretched between the open blouse underneath my breasts and a glimpse of my panties below the single button holding my blouse together. I turned away, my legs tensing more than could be explained by the heeled sandals alone.

"Oh," I said. "Just put them over there." I waved my hand at the bed.

As Jeff walked to the bed I entered the walk-in closet and his eyes followed me inside. He turned away from the bed reluctantly, seemingly loathe to leave. Just before he reached the door, I called out to him.

"Jeff. Be a dear and get me the dress in the grey bag."

I walked out of the closet just as he pulled the new dress out of the bag. His eyes were glued on my body, especially my bare tummy and the black panties. I kept my eyes averted, fixed on the dress he held in his hand so he didn't feel embarrassed about me seeing him look. That would come later when he was guilty of more than just sneaking a peek.

Excitement surged within me. I really had him. He was sure to incriminate himself tonight. For good measure, I turned with the dress in hand, not quite fully away, and stooped to slip my feet into it. Jeff stared as I wriggled it up over my hips, then paused to take my blouse off. I thought his eyes would bug out of his head when we got his first ever close look at his mother in a push up bra. I took my time, pretending to have difficulty getting the sleeves off.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here," I said in a breathy, frustrated voice, as if surprised by his presence. "Help me get this thing off, will you?"

Jeff dutifully grabbed each sleeve and pulled while I slipped my arms out but he wasn't looking at my arms. As best they could from his rearward angle, my son's eyes moved in concert with the motion of my breasts as they jostled about while I struggled to get my arms free. Finally, I was loose and pulled the dress up. For the finishing touch, I asked Jeff to zip me up.

"Thanks, sweetheart. Why don't you see if the stew is ready and I'll be right down."

I should have been shocked by my behavior but I had already convinced myself that I was doing it for my son's benefit. Discipline-wise, that is. Applying a lesson in life though I was a little vague on what, exactly, the lesson was.

I was incredibly excited. I felt so alive. It was shameful, I know, but I hadn't had a man look at me with such desire for a long, long time, if ever. I felt a little evil, partly because I was punishing my son for his sin but also because I was enjoying it so much. That dark feeling made me feel warm down there, more than it should.

As I walked down the stairs I paused to adjust my dress. My hand scraped firmly and unnecessarily over my front. I laughed softly as I continued down the stairs to have dinner with my son. He'd be begging me to drink his tea by the time I was done with him. And later tonight, I'd really give him what for. I dished up a couple bowls of stew and put them on the kitchen counter where I'd already set some warm buns from the oven.

"Do you mind, honey?" I asked. "I don't feel like setting the table tonight."

Jeff shook his head. I could see he was trying not to look at my legs displayed in all their glory as I hitched my bottom onto a stool. As soon as he sat down, I picked up one of the magazines I'd set on the counter earlier.

"Do you mind if I read?"

"No, not at all," he gulped.

Jeff picked up a magazine from the stack on the counter. I pulled my bowl near, swung my legs toward Jeff, and lifted the magazine high to hide my face. I ate slowly, always maintaining the magazine in place. After several minutes, I sought the lower rung on Jeff's stool to rest my feet, first drawing his attention by slipping my sandals off and letting them clatter to the floor. Within minutes, I sought out the higher rung, knowing full well it would force my knees higher, so high in fact, that my son would be able to see under my skirt, maybe even all the way to his mother's lacy, black panties.

That is, if she opened her legs.

Which I did.

I ate slowly, allowing my knees to drift apart, then close, only to separate again. Back and forth, my thighs waxed and waned.

I actually never read a word, changing pages only as an after thought, but Jeff didn't notice. His mind was elsewhere. My own mind was focused on what I should do next. I was torn between two paths. On the one hand, I could carry on with the plan to fake drinking the doped tea and catch Jeff taking pictures of me while I was supposedly in a helpless state. How vengeful that would be, but the aftermath would be just as traumatic, for us both.

Or, I could outright refuse to drink any more of my son's concoction. Instead, I would flaunt myself in front of him, tease him mercilessly, but never give him the opportunity to sneak another picture. I'd make his balls blue and force him out of that disgusting group by depriving him of the entry requirements. I could either find and delete the pictures he'd taken or leave them there to remind him of what he'd once been able to see, and touch. That last thought sent a jolt through me and my thighs twitched in response. Revenge was truly sweet, at least in the planning.

I couldn't decide, though I was leaning toward the role of evil, teasing bitch. There were so many merits to that fun approach without the stress of confrontation.

Despite the initial thrill, I tired of the kitchen stool game. I dropped my magazine on the counter and turned to finish my stew. It was cold. Jeff was clearly startled and I took joy in his surprise. My sideways glances confirmed that my naughty display had worked. I think Jeff would have had difficulty standing right then. The observation spurred me to quickly finished my dinner and put my bowl in the sink.

"Come and keep me company in the living room."

"Uh... I'll be there in a minute. Just let me finish this."

He took a suddenly intense interest in his magazine which I don't think he'd paid any attention to until then. He probably didn't even realize it was a woman's magazine. I smiled, gloating over his inability to stand.

"Okay," I complained. "I guess I'll just have to read all by myself."

I sashayed saucily out of the kitchen, making sure that the skirt stretched tightly over my buttocks with each step. When Jeff finally joined me I kept my book in front of my face, in the same manner as I'd held the magazine in the kitchen, so he could enjoy my legs without fear of being caught. I had let my dress fall higher down my thighs and assured myself that, from his vantage point on the love seat, he would be able to see just a hint of my panties.

I trailed my fingers lazily up and down the underside of my thigh and, several times, traced a line onto the top of my leg and down the inside. The more excited he got, I thought, the bigger the fall when I lowered the boom. Moreover, I had no idea how long he usually waited after giving me the tea before he felt it was safe to play his devious game and I didn't want to be waiting long. The hornier be became, the sooner he would come upstairs. The use of the word, though just in my thoughts, rang loudly through my skull. I curled my feet and splayed my toes wide. For the next while, any slight movement or adjustment of my body that would attract Jeff's attention, I did.

Eventually, I set my book on the coffee table. Slowly, so I didn't surprise him. I closed my eyes and stretched, arching my back and pushing my breasts up, trying to appear, accidentally, wantonly sexual. Relaxing back into the couch, I looked at Jeff and smiled sweetly.

"Would you make me some of your special tea, honey?"

"Sure Mom."

He almost tripped in his eagerness to get up. I noticed with great satisfaction as he stumbled by that his interest clearly showed in the front of his jeans.

When Jeff brought the tea, I stalled and only took a very small sip before asking him to get a box from my room. He was reluctant to leave me.

"Please, honey? I bought a new pair of shoes and I forgot all about them. I want you to tell me if you think Dad will like them. Pretty please?" I cooed in my teenage girl voice.

He capitulated.

"They're right by the bed," I called as he strode firmly up the stairs.

As soon as he was gone, I took a sip from his mug. Tea, and it tasted the same as mine except it was strangely lukewarm unlike my hot mug. I was sure he hadn't added anything to his but I couldn't just switch; our mugs were different. I ran into the kitchen, dumped my mug into the sink and refilled it two thirds from the pot. There, now we both had clean tea.

Evidently, Jeff had difficulty finding the shoes. Not surprising, since I they weren't where I told them they'd be. I waited several minutes after reseating myself before he came downstairs, holding the box and complaining about my directions. His voice trailed off when he saw me waiting on the couch, dress still lying very high on my thighs. You'd think my uncharacteristic behavior would have flashed huge warning signals but apparently not. I held out one foot and Jeff eagerly sank to his knees before me, fumbling in his hurry to get a shoe out of the box.

I teased him some more, twisting my leg this way and that, lifting it so I could see, making sure my legs parted just enough so he could peek along my shanks right up to my panties. A sudden rush of guilt swept over me but not because of what I was doing to my son. It was due to a memory, long ago, of how I had once teased a shoe salesman that obviously thought I was attractive. He was cute and I was mad at Stefan for some reason. I'd done it on the spur of the moment and, thinking back, I had enjoyed that same, slightly evil feeling that rushed through me as his eyes locked on my open legs.

Enough. I held my other foot out and gulped my tea while he fitted the remaining shoe. I knew from experience how long the onset of weariness would take and, after an appropriate delay, began feigning excessive tiredness. I was quite an actress, I thought proudly. My act was so accomplished, I even convinced myself that I was falling asleep. My eyes and limbs actually did feel heavy, just as they did when I drank the doped tea. I should win an award for this, I thought dreamily, lying back against the couch, eyes closed. I felt so calm and relaxed and it pleased me to hear my son's gentle voice as he continued to play with my foot.

"Mom... Mom?"

He didn't need to be so quiet. We were alone. No one else was home. There was no need to whisper. Should I be limp in his arms when he carried me upstairs, I wondered, or would a drugged person still try to hold on? Jeff was calling from farther away now. I could hardly hear him. I hadn't heard him go. Why was he standing so far away?

It was morning. Oh God, I had fallen asleep and hadn't confronted Jeff. My dress was all disheveled but more demurely positioned than it had been while I'd toyed with my leg on the couch. However, my panties were stretched across my legs halfway down my thighs. I sat up and swiveled my legs to the floor. I felt a draft and reached around to find my dress half unzipped. As I pulled it up, I made another discovery. My bra was missing!​