The pressure was building, his picture now discarded because he was alive in her mind, so real that she could actually feel his shaft inside her as her other hand abused her tits, squashing and fondling the flesh; her nipples becoming twin peaks which transmitted pleasure signals to her brain. On the edge, she was seconds away from exploding as her fingers switched to her clitoris and the world disintegrated around her.
She imagined her son’s cream filling her pussy, mixing with the cum and juices as her thighs clamped together; her body shaking as the force of her convulsions made her thrash back and forth. When she surfaced from her orgasm and gazed at her son’s photo once more, she felt nothing but an overpowering love for him. There was no disgust or repulsion in what she had just done; this fantasy of hers was one she used frequently when masturbating, because the eroticism of imagining having sex with him, gave her the best climaxes she had ever experienced.
Slowly she wiped herself, cleaning up the wetness that covered her pussy and mound, as well as what had run between the cheeks of her arse. She had to be careful, this soon after an orgasm, her body was still ripe, and too much touching and wiping could quickly reawaken her arousal. Her legs were still a little unsteady as she recovered her clothes, dressing slowly and then retouching her foundation to make her face look presentable once more.
Despite having had his birthday, Jonjo was still safe until the end of the month. That was when his school finished, and he arrived home to await his exam results. She was hoping he had done well for the simple reason that a university would take him away again, out of range of a potential indiscretion. Failure meant that finally, he would return home, and she did not trust herself. If he were here full-time, even if he got a job, eventually, she would try to seduce him, that was if she hadn’t raped him first.
Jonjo stepped down from the train with his cases and made his way towards the exit. He was not expecting his mother to pick him up; she never had in the past. Normally there would be a taxi waiting to drive him to his destination, his grandparents or maybe another member of the family or even summer camp. This time, though, he was going home; somewhere, he only had vague recollections of. He loved his mother because that was what was expected of him, but he didn’t know her and could only imagine her in his mind’s eye due to the photographs she sent him from time to time. They spoke every week on the phone, but that didn’t mean he knew her; she was just a female voice on the other end of the line.
He was both bemused and stunned when he exited. Caroline, his mother was waiting outside, stood beside her, four-by-four. In the flesh, she looked different than in her pictures. His first thought was that she was gorgeous; his second thought, unprintable. From birth, they had never attained that mother and son bond. Jonjo realised that even though it was her name on his birth certificate, he only saw her as some woman, albeit at that moment, a quite sexy one.