“That’s only habit. That’s because we never thought about each other like that, like a man and a woman before. That’s why we have to see each other naked now and get ready for tomorrow.”
“That will NEVER happen. You’re NOT going to see your mother naked!”
He closed the distance between us, that thing between his legs wagging. He grabbed at my blouse and freed it from my jeans. Before I could react, he pulled it up to my armpits and struggled to get it over my head and off me.
“RONNY! STOP!” I shouted. My vision was blotted out by my own top being stretched upwards. It dawned on me my son had a clear vision of my breasts, only lightly covered by white transparent lace.”
“C’mon, Mom. I want to see you naked. You’ve seen me naked.”
“NO!” I fought to get my top down and won. “You have to stop this right now.” I growled those words while tightening my lips and looking into my son’s eyes. “How could you even dream you could make this happen?”
“Look what YOU made happen, Mom. This is just from seeing your beautiful tits for a few seconds.” In the palm of his right hands rested a lengthening and hardening penis. The head of it emerged from its hood, all slick and shiny.
I was paralyzed by the sight. I was looking at my son’s erection, an erection caused by me, by a look at my “tits.” The erection itself would have been shock enough—the size and girth of it. But that my own son could become sexually aroused by his mother blew my mind.
“Ronny … enough.”
“I want to see you naked, Mom. Right now.” He came at me again and this time went for my jeans. His strong hands got them unbuttoned, unzipped and partially skinned down my hips.
I furiously struggled. My naked son was trying to strip ME naked. “STOP! STOP, RONNY!”
“I’ll stop with the jeans if you take your top off,” he bargained with a big grin.
“NO!”
He renewed his winning efforts with the jeans, so I said, “OK! OK!” before they dropped any farther.
He took hold of the hem of my top, prepared to strip it off me. I tugged my jeans enough to stay up on their own and said, “No … please let me do it myself.” That, my mind told me, maybe erroneously, let me retain some semblance of dignity.
“OK, do it.”
“Please don’t make me. This is insane.”
“Do it.”
I closed my eyes in shame, took hold of my top, and shucked it over my head. I couldn’t bear to see my son’s eyes drink me all in, so I kept mine shut.
“Wow! Mom! You’re so beautiful. Your tits are gorgeous! And look at those nipples. They’re darker than I thought.”
I could hear him come closer, and I visualized him taking a good look at my bra-covered bosom.
“All right. Enough of this. I did what you wanted. Now let’s end this.”
“Mom, tomorrow you’re going to end THIS!”
He took my left hand and suddenly I felt something hard and hot. My eyes flew open and saw he trapped my palm against the shaft of his cock.
“RONNY! THIS ISN’T RIGHT!”
His strength kept me from pulling away, but not from causing my hand’s struggles to move back and forth along the length of his penis. My hand was unwillingly jacking my son.