I suppose my part of the bargain was to also supply a bit of erotic interest by baring my breasts, which, thankfully, had mostly maintained their shape and lift over the years, I did look pretty good for a thirty-nine year old woman who has had three children. I was MILF material, I felt sure, but I was still hoping that my son would find me attractive, I am human, after all.
So, I reached around as I caught his eyes glued to me, unhooked my bra and pulled it off my arms.
I was hoping he wouldn’t say anything but he did, “Oh, Mom, you’re beautiful, really beautiful.”
I’ve never read any advice column that said what a mom should say to her son when he compliments her on her boobs so I just did a simple, “Thank you,” and put my hands under the sheet and pulled my panties off, bringing them out and with a bit of drama for the occasion, dropped them on the floor.
Then my hand went back under as I widened to begin rubbing.
“Mmm, oh, this is good, Mom, don’t get mad but you’re hotter than Playboy,” he moaned as the towel went up and down.
Well, I knew that for my age, my boobs were pretty nice but I also knew that I couldn’t compare with the hot, young women in the standard of men’s magazines. But, well, it was still nice to hear such sweet words from my son.
I didn’t really want to use any toys, that just seemed a little too much this first time out and my fingers have always been pretty effective at bringing me to orgasm, so I rubbed and fingered and rubbed some more, all the while underneath the sheet.
I tried to look elsewhere and not at Neil all the time but my eyes kept being pulled back to the rising and falling of the beach towel covering his lap. Thoughts of what he looked like underneath kept popping into my head, completely unbidden as I pressured myself on. There was no question about one thing: it was more arousing and erotic this way, no doubt about it. Much more.
“Are you close, Mom, I’m getting there. I’ll slow down if you aren’t,” my son groaned as his arm moved up and down.
“Go ahead, if you want, Neil, it’s okay,” I panted as my breathing was beginning to become labored.
“No, I’ll slow down, I really love it when we’re together at the end,” he said as his movement under the towel slowed.
I know as you read this it must sound somewhat strange but, though it had started out as pretty uncomfortable, it was becoming easier to be sexual in front of my son, it was seeming more natural and familiar.
I kept fingering myself getting myself closer as I knew Neil wanted and when I was finally panting, finger-fucking myself rapidly, I told him, “I’m close now, go ahead I’m right there,” and his towel began going up and down much faster as his eyes closed and head fell back.
“OH, OH, UUH, huh, mmm, mmm, oh, Mom, that was go good, mmm,” he groaned as I cried out, “OH, OH, MMM, SO GOOD, YES, YES, oh, oh, oh, it’s sooo…” and I was laying back, out of breath, panting after the most wonderful orgasm I’d had in quite a few years.
“Wow, Mom, that was good, huh?”
I never thought one of my sons would be asking me about the quality of my orgasms but there it was. And, well, the truth is that he was mostly responsible for how wonderful it was.
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