There was a date circled on the page of her open desktop diary, the twenty-fifth of January; it was a day she had been dreading. Thankfully, it had arrived and departed without anything untoward; but she knew that the time was drawing closer. She had a son, conceived with one of her husbands, or maybe one of the many men whom she had allowed to penetrate her; and that date had been his eighteenth birthday.
Over the years, and although she loved him dearly, she had managed to keep him at arm’s length. He’d had many babysitters when he was a baby. As a toddler, he had a nanny, and when he was old enough, she sent him to a prep school and then to a private boarding school. She didn’t want him to see her as she truly was. When that ache in her fanny controlled her sensibilities, the temptation was to leave him alone, desperation sending her out, searching for someone to relieve the demands of her body.
Thankfully, on the few occasions, he was with her, she had managed by locking herself in a bedroom and plunging toys into her cunt; but now, unfortunately, he had come of age. He needed no one to take care of him anymore, and she was afraid that she may be inclined to try and seduce him at some point when her desires got the better of her.
They were not estranged; rather, her son probably thought of her as being distant. That wasn’t true. She had always sent him away to keep him safe, despite how much she wanted to be with him.
Jonjo was no longer a child; he was a handsome young man, and as she looked at his photo, dressed in his suit and posing at his prom night, she pushed away the thoughts that had invaded her mind.
Even now, and as yet, he was still away; thinking about him made her knees tremble and she could sense her developing urge. Over the years, although they had met up several times, she hadn’t seen a great deal of him. When he returned home for his summer breaks, she would often pack him off to her parents or suggest a summer camp, anything that kept him at a distance from her. She only had pictures of him to go by; the one sitting on her desk presently, and the one in her bedside drawer.
It was no good; the urge was increasing rapidly, and she needed to finger herself. Racing up the stairs, ripping clothes off in the process, she was naked by the time she reached her room, throwing herself onto the bed and rummaging in the drawers.
Extracting the photograph, she gazed at her son. It had been taken at Easter, Jonjo on a faraway beach. It was his eighteenth birthday present, and he was posing for the camera; tanned, and wearing nothing but a pair of swim shorts. Her mind had already removed them; imagining his cock rigid as she lay on her back and opened her legs. The initial touch made her shiver, her fingers teasing her pussy open. She neglected her vagina for a few seconds because her nipples were demanding attention; each one twisted and pinched until it stood erect, solid, and throbbing with the pleasure of her touch.
And then her fingers returned to her pussy, one on either side of her clit, as she rubbed slowly, eyes closed now, as she imagined Jonjo shuffling between her thighs, his plump knob pressing against her fanny. This had become her go-to scenario; her arousal escalated until her fingers replicated his cock and were plunged into her quim. The frigging was frantic, fast, and hard, her mind now imagining her son looming over her as his cock penetrated and pounded her cunt.