The blonde Bruce Lee he silently mocked his only child.
It wasn’t until all of the luggage was in the building hallway, the apartment keys were on the dining room table, and his dad had closed the door that Richie’s warrior stance ended and he felt his adrenaline also dissipating. He flew to the door and locked it. Then he peered around at the empty apartment. The economics major dug into his jeans pocket for his cell phone. His finger hit the #1 choice on his speed dial list.
“Hi, Mom. No everything is ok. Yeah, he just left. No, no problems. I’ll see you when you get home. I love you too. No, I’m fine.”
The last part was a lie. He ran his fingers through his hair. His emotional crash struck, and he began to sob uncontrollably. He headed to his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. The ten minutes of crying provided several hours of needed sleep and rest.
Several hours later Mag opened the apartment door. Her eyes caught her husband’s keys lying on the nearby table. She exhaled a huge sigh of relief. After locking the door she called for her son. No answer. A brief pang of worry hit her mind. She dropped her purse and scurried for his bedroom and opened the door.
She breathed a literal sigh of relief seeing Richie asleep on his bed.
Her eyes did a head-to-toe sweep of her child who was lying flat on his back. She smiled and mentally surmised with typical motherly pride that her son was handsome. She was about to leave the room when her visual sweep came to an unexpected halt. She blinked several times and then her jaw dropped.
There was a sizeable bulge in the crotch of Richie’s jeans.
She felt somewhat guilty and wanted to look away. But she couldn’t. It had been so long that she saw a hard cock. Yet, this was her son. Her head looked away…then back. Mag’s ignored and marginalized sexuality had been wakened…by of all things her son’s erection. Her eyes were glued to the lump. She licked her lips, then felt instantaneous regret and self-loathing. Her conscience and libido started to wrestle.
This is your son…that you’re looking at like a male stripper!
He’s a young, good looking guy who happens to be your son.
You’re not supposed to look at your son like this!
Your husband was not supposed to fuck another woman.
But—
Conscience was interrupted by the sleeping Richie, as his lower region began to roll and he was thrusting up his erection.
Libido was thrilled by the unforeseen action.
Look at that, Mag! Look at how that massive, delicious-looking piece of virile cock and how it’s shoving upward. Look at it! Just imagine that beautiful young manhood shoving upward into your sexually-famished cunt, providing it the needed and wanted gratification, bringing you to a monumental climax as it explodes its seed deep into your vagina!
Conscience was initially silent, then could only offer a feeble response.
But, but, he’s your son.
Oh, alright! Libido capitulated. Just for now, enjoy this studly scene and save it for posterity. Tonight when you take your shower and you play with yourself—you KNOW, after seeing this you’re going to play with yourself—hey! Wait a minute! Why don’t you play with yourself right now?