The Evolution Of A Slut Mommy

by BadPup©

I'm A Good Girl

Once upon a time I was a good girl. Granted you'd never guess that now if you saw me strutting down the street today in one of my many mini-skirts that show off my long legs and round bubble butt and the occasional glimpse of my naughty little thongs (at least on those days I wear panties). With my mouth watering 36DD tits on display thanks to those undone top three buttons on my sheer blouses, I seriously doubt any man who sees me could even guess I was once the recording secretary of the Honors Society at Robert P. Dresser High School. Add to that the sight of me perched on my 5" stiletto high heels that Johnny loves so much and wearing my favorite thigh high stockings (I fucking love thigh highs!) and I must look like anything in the world besides a good girl. Still, once upon a time that's exactly what I was.

What's that? Who's Johnny? Johnny is my 19 year old son and the reason why I have all these hot clothes, naughty lingerie, and sexy high heel shoes, but that fact is getting ahead of my story. What isn't getting ahead of my story is that Johnny had a key influence in the first event that set me on the road to being a slut.

You see I gave birth to Johnny when I was 15. No, I wasn't some boy crazy little bimbo who got knocked up by some local high school stud. I was a very good girl, hell I'd never even been out on a date.

So how does a good girl who'd never even been out on a date get a bun in the oven at fifteen? She has to make a series of mistakes. She has to sneak out of her bedroom room window on a Wednesday night so she can go to a rock concert with her friends. Then she and her friends have to accept a backstage pass from a roadie to meet the band after the show. Finally, if while backstage with the band, someone hands her a cup that the good girl doesn't know what's in it, she needs to be polite and drink it right down. If any good girl makes these three mistakes, there is a very good chance she will wake up at dawn the next morning with a busted hymen and a pussy that feels like it has a half gallon of sperm in it. At least that is my personal experience with this situation.

My folks were pretty upset when I got home the next day. They went fucking bonkers when I told them I had missed my second period. The called the cops. They called a bunch of lawyers. They got the same answer from everyone they called. Due to the fact I couldn't remember who had given me the magic cup, let alone be able to name the stud who whitewashed my pussy with his baby batter, there wasn't much of a case.

After my folks put the phone down for the last time they took a deep breath, and then they supported me 100 percent. Being strict Catholics, abortion was out of the question. There was originally some talk of me giving Johnny up for adoption, but I dug my heels in and said no. Pretty much from the day I found out I was pregnant with Johnny, I fell in love with him. I knew there was no way I'd ever give my baby up. There was a pretty big row when I told my folks, but after a couple of days they realized my mind was made up, and they started making arrangements for the arrival of their grandson.

After Johnny was born I decided I was going back to a being good girl. I went to the local continuation school and got my GED. After that it was off to the local community collage, and from there I went on to graduate from the local state university with a degree in business administration. After collage I got a job out of town and threw myself into it and the only other thing in my life I really cared about. My beautiful little baby boy, Johnny.

Life marched on, work and my baby boy. First steps, first day of school, cub scouts, Little League, Pop Warner football, staff meetings, special projects that needed to be done ASAP, and lots and lots of overtime that was my life, at least until I turned 30, and married Gerald. For years my family and friends had been after me to settle down and find myself a man, but it seemed all I attracted were losers who thought being a single mother made me a sure thing and an emotional doormat. My friend Katie had recently pointed out to me that Johnny was 15 and would be leaving home for collage in a few years. I needed to start thinking about living my own life.

I met Gerald on a blind date set up by mutual friends. Gerald had a good career as a banker. Gerald was stable. Gerald was a good listener. Granted with his little pot belly and thick glasses he really didn't make my heart go pitter patter, but I was a grown woman, the mother of a strapping teenaged boy, and thought who needed that at my age?

Gerald and I got along quiet well when we first got married, and he also got along reasonably well with Johnny too. Of course Gerald had the common sense not to try to be a father figure to Johnny. I mean that would have been a complete joke. Even in our wedding pictures the top of Gerald's head only hit Johnny at the shoulder, and even as a high school freshman Johnny had a set of muscles on him that would intimidate most men.

Two more years would pass and then the second event that led to me becoming a slut took place. Johnny went to the Junior Prom. Well there was no surprise there. My little baby had grown into a very handsome young man, well over six feet tall, a chiseled frame, cute dimples when he smiled, my own jet black hair, and sparkling green eyes that were all his own.

I can't say I had any use for his date for the prom, Amy Hotkins. She was an empty headed little blonde cheerleader, who instead of a personality had a perky set of boobs.

The big night rolled around and Johnny looked so handsome in his tuxedo. I didn't care for the way Amy had draped herself all over him while we were taking pictures, but I managed to keep my displeasure to myself.

Johnny's normal curfew was midnight, but seeing as this was a special night we pushed it back to one o'clock, and though I hadn't told Johnny, But I wasn't planning on getting real mad as long as he was home by two. I had a serious hunch that my little boy was going to lose his virginity that night. I had mixed feelings over that fact. I mean Johnny had just turned 18 (I'd kept Johnny home for an extra year before starting kindergarten), and it was bound to happen but I just couldn't help wishing it wasn't going to be with an inane little giggle box like Amy Hotkins.

I was very surprised when Johnny came through the door at a little past midnight. He was very quiet and had a sad little smile on his face. When I asked him about his night, he told me everything was fine. Dinner had been fine, the dance had been fine and Amy was fine. Johnny told me he was tired and went back to his room closing the door behind him.

I was crushed, it was obvious Johnny was upset and for the first time in his life he was shutting me out. Johnny moped around the house for the rest of the week, and I'll admit I moped right along with him.

It was a chance phone call that changed everything. My best friend Katie called up to catch up on things and I told her about my problem with Johnny. Katie suddenly got very quiet. I told Katie if she knew something about this she needed to tell me right then and there. Katie took a deep breath and told me her story.

Katie was also friends with Donna Hotkins, Amy's mother. While at lunch that week with Donna, she had mentioned to Katie she had recently installed spyware on her daughter's computer to try to keep the little cock tease on a shorter leash. Donna then proceeded to tell Katie about an email Amy had sent to one of her fellow slut cheerleader friends about what happened after the prom. Apparently when Amy saw Johnny naked for the first time she demanded he take her home immediately. I was stunned. No I was livid. That little tramp had the nerve to turn down my Johnny? I thanked Katie for the information and made an excuse to end the phone call.

"That little fucking cunt!" I hissed after I hung up the phone.

Gerald, who had been just about to take a sip of tea, ended up spiting it all over himself. Gerald asked me what was wrong, and I told him the story I had just heard getting madder by the second. When I turned to go up to Johnny's room, Gerald took my arm and told me I was about to make a huge mistake. Gerald told me when a boy's been embarrassed because he is small; the only thing that will make it worse is having his mother talk about the subject. Gerald seemed so sure of what he was telling me, but then Gerald had a three inch penis, so he probably was speaking from experience.

I was stunned. My baby, my Johnny, small? It seemed crazy. He was well over six feet tall, an all county linebacker; my god he wore a size 11½ shoe for crying out loud! I went to my room and cried for the rest of the afternoon.

Finally about a week later Johnny snapped out of his funk. He asked me if he could set up some weight lifting equipment in the garage and I immediately said yes even before he told me why.

Gerald had a snit saying something about where would we park our cars and couldn't Johnny just work out at the gym with the rest of the football team? I patiently explained to Gerald that Johnny had decided not to play football next year, because if he concentrated on his studies and aced his advanced placement exams he could win an academic scholarship to the university. Johnny still wanted to work out, but doing it in the garage would not cut into his study time as much as driving all the way across town to the gym.

I was barely able to keep the contempt out of my voice when I told Gerald if it was so important to him, he could continue to park in the garage and I would park out on the driveway. Johnny set up a weight bench, a chin-up bar, and some barbells and dumbbells and a lot of cast iron weights on my side of the garage and was soon spending a large part of his days out there.

I never went out in the garage when Johnny was exercising. It felt like it would have been intruding, but I stopped to listen by the door more then once. It was fascinating, the clang of the iron weights and the occasional deep muted grunts that came through the door. I always ended up walking away with butterflies in my tummy and my cheeks flushed for some reason.

Eventually we settled into our summer routine. Well that is after Gerald left me. It turns out that about six months before, right about when he had his 43rd birthday; Gerald discovered a bald spot forming on the back of his head. He then entered a very quiet and very intense midlife crisis. This would result in him starting a new relationship with a woman he called his "soul mate" but I always thought of as "some 22-year-old bleach blonde pilates instructor with a boob job." I was livid for about two weeks over the fact that this tiny dicked little bald man would have the nerve to leave me for some young cookie. Eventually I calmed down, found a good lawyer to make Gerald's life miserable, and I also joined a gym and hired a personal trainer to get rid of those 10 pounds I'd been meaning to lose for the last few years. (I mean Gerald's 160 pounds of useless flab was out of my life, why not go all the way?)

Life was simple and almost boring. I went to work, Johnny studied, and we both worked out. We had dinner every night and occasionally watched movies on the DVD together. It was just me and my baby boy, and to tell you the truth, it was nice.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

This would change about two weeks before Christmas. I was at the mall, Christmas shopping with my friend Katie. It had been a good day we'd caught up on all the recent gossip and found some good buys too. Katie had been raving about how good I looked. I tried to pretend it was no big deal, but inside I was basking in her compliments.

I did look good. Going to the gym three times a week for almost six months had firmed and toned my 5'7" body. You could bounce a quarter off my butt, and my boobs which had always been my best feature, could now have given that little whore Amy Hotkins a run for her money in the perky department. I'd gotten a new younger looking hair style for my thick black hair, and had traded in my glasses for contacts to show off my blue eyes. For the first time in my life I felt a little bit sexy.

We were all set to call it a day, when we heard a screeching noise off to our right. My first thought was a large parrot was loose in the mall; it tuned out to be Donna Hotkins. She was sitting in a restaurant and invited Katie and I in to have a drink. There was no way we could politely refuse and the next thing I knew I was sitting at a table full of strange women with the mother of the girl who had ruined what should have been one of the best nights of my sweet Johnny's life.

Donna and Katie caught up on small talk and then Donna turned to me.

"You know I never got a chance to thank you." She said sweetly.

I asked what she felt she needed to thank me for.

"For your son taking Amy to the prom last year, it's made my job as a mother so much easier.

I couldn't believe this woman would have the gall to bring up this subject.

"What happened Donna?" One of the women at the table asked.

"Well you know my daughter, Amy? The young lady her father likes to call his little princess, but the girl I know who's had a chronic case of the hot pants since she was 14? Well apparently my little girl had decided it was time to go all the way with Connie's son."

"She's got good taste," one of the women at the table giggled.

"True, she gets it from her mother." Donna said before taking another sip of her cosmo. "Well the dance lets out and they head off to the local lovers lane for the moment of truth."

I couldn't believe she was not only going to tell this story in public, she was going to tell it in front of me. I got ready to come over the table and scratch that bitch's eyes out.

"But when they got down to their birthday suits, Amy found out that Johnny was, well, very gifted if you get my drift."

This news brought a chorus of giggles at the table.

"How gifted?" Another woman asked.

Donna got a big smirk on her face. "Well, to use Amy's own words in an email she sent your daughter, Pattie, she thought if he put it in her he'd split her in two."

"Oh what would a teenager know about a big one?" One of the women scoffed.

"I don't care if it was an optical illusion," Donna said. "All I know that date has kept my little teenaged vixen on the straight and narrow for the last seven months."

"Think it will last?" Another woman asked.

Donna shrugged her shoulders. "I hope so, but Aaron Hills been sniffing around lately."

"He's got a cute butt," yet another woman giggled.

"Yeah and that's what worries me," Donna said shaking her head. "I just want to get her into college without a trip to Planned Parenthood." Donna raised her glass to me, "anyway Connie thank you for raising such a lovely boy."

This brought on another chorus of giggles and the subject of conversation shifted to shoes. Katie and I quickly finished our drinks, made our goodbyes and then Katie drove me home.

I headed straight to my room to think. On the one hand I worried about Johnny. Was all his studying and weight lifting because he felt like a freak? It tore me up inside to think my baby might be hurting. On the other hand, I was elated by what Donna had told me. My baby wasn't "small". Fuck you Gerald, I thought to myself. My Johnny was hung.

This brought up a question I didn't want to think about. Just how big was Johnny. My tummy started doing flip flops and I felt my cheeks flush. I put it out of my mind and went to fix dinner for Johnny.

The only problem is that question wouldn't stay out of my mind. It seemed at least three or four times a day I would find myself wondering just what was in my son's pants. Often at the worst times, meetings at work, or talking to friends on the phone; that question kept worming into my brain.

I found myself looking at Johnny all the time now. My eyes were always drifting down to the front of his pants. Not that I could really tell what was down there. Johnny didn't like tight clothes. I realized I really had no idea what Johnny's body looked like. I knew he had wide shoulders, and when he wore short sleeve shirts I could see the hints of well developed biceps, but I no idea what was under his clothes. I began to wonder about that too.

As the weeks slid by I found myself masturbating more. My usual routine had been to draw a hot bath, light some candles and rub my kitty about twice a month to take the edge off. Now however the urge was coming over me two to three times a week.

I wish I could say I had a good reason, but the truth be told it mainly came down to me being too horny to see straight, and I eventually came to a decision. I needed to see it. I needed to see my Johnny's penis. I told myself it was just curiosity and that once I saw it, I'd stop thinking about it. Was it a cheap rationalization? Sure, but if you can't have a cheap rationalization when your panties are wet, when can you?

Of course the question now how was I going to get a peek? As a family we didn't flaunt our bodies. The only place I could count on Johnny being nude was in the shower, but that didn't do me much good. I suppose I could accidentally barge in, but what would happen if Johnny wasn't naked? Was I just supposed to keep accidentally barging in? I mean how many times could I accidentally barge into a shower before Johnny got suspicious? Besides, it would probably be traumatic for the poor boy to suddenly be confronted in the shower by his mother.

It took me about all of 10 minutes to get around this dilemma. I made a trip to the electronics store and bought one of those nanny cams. If you've never heard of a nanny cam, it's a small hidden video camera hidden in a common object used by concerned parents to monitor the people actually raising their children. Granted I don't think I was planning on using it for a purpose envisioned by the manufacturer, but my lust had caused me to think outside the box.

The camera was concealed in a false book I put up on shelf in Johnny's bathroom where I kept the extra hand towels. It had cost a little extra, but I'd got a digital video camera that would record to the hard drive on my computer in my room. I could even set it to record for specific periods of time, so I wouldn't have to monitor the camera, or end up with a nine hour recording to catch the 10 minutes of what I wanted to see.

I usually left for work before Johnny got up, so I set the timer on the camera for that hour before I knew Johnny left for school. I wish I could say I hesitated before I hit the button on my computer to set the timer, but that would be a lie. I was going to see my baby and this was going to be the day.

I was a mess at work that day. I had the attention span of a gnat. I had three meetings, two conference calls and answered 14 emails and the most intelligent response I had to any of them was to say or write "I'll get back to you on that." It was so bad my personal assistant actually asked me if I was feeling ok. I told her I was feeling a little woozy, which was as close to the truth as I could get.

I finally gave up on getting anything done that day and ducked out of work an hour early. Surprisingly enough I didn't head straight home. I ended up driving around aimlessly for awhile, because now that what I wanted was waiting for me at home, I wondered if I really wanted this. Good mothers didn't set up spy cameras to see how big their sons' penises were, and good girls certainly didn't watch the recordings.

I was a good girl, or at least I tried to be since I was 15. That was almost 19 years of my life; did I really want to throw that identity away just to satisfy my curiosity?

I decided I'd made a mistake, and that the thing to do was go home, erase that recording, and then return that nanny cam to the electronics store the next day. If I did that, there would be no real lasting damage, because being tempted to do something isn't the same as actually doing it. I felt better as I turned my car towards home.

When I got home I was going to head straight to my room and erase that recording. At least that was the plan. Maybe if Johnny hadn't just finished his workout when I got home, and maybe if I hadn't caught a glimpse of his broad back in walking up the stairs towards his room as I came through the door I would have followed my plan, but then it suddenly seemed like a better idea if I fixed dinner for Johnny. A good mother would make sure her child got a hot meal before she took care of anything else, right?

I looked in the refrigerator for awhile, but nothing looked appealing and was certainly in no shape to cook. I ended up just ordering a pizza, which was fine by Johnny. He was watching some crash bang action movie on the TV.

I joined him, but picked at my food. I should have gone upstairs at the first commercial and deleted that recording. It would have taken 10 seconds and I'd be able to mark the last few weeks down to a harmless temptation.

I didn't go upstairs at the first commercial, and I didn't go during the second one either. Suddenly the idea of what was waiting at the top of the stairs for me was kind of scary. I just sat on the couch starring at the TV without really paying any attention to it as I absentmindedly rubbed my thighs together.

When the movie was over Johnny gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and went to bed, but I stayed down stairs watching TV. Well not really watching, more just flipping from channel to channel only pausing every few minutes to glance towards the top of the stairs, towards my room, towards what was waiting for me.

Finally, after an hour of squirming on the couch I knew I couldn't put it off any longer. I turned the TV off and walked up the stairs to my room. I opened the door to my room; it was lit only by the flickering red power display on my computer. I sat down in front of the keyboard and brought up the video program. I had three simple choices; I could erase the recording, save it for later, or watch it. I moved the cursor over the erase button, but at the last second I clicked on the play button.

A part of me was shocked at what I was doing, this wasn't me; I was a good girl, but I told myself I'd just take a quick peek. I just needed to see, and then this craziness could finally end. My tongue licked a fine line of sweat that had formed on my upped lip.

For a long time there was nothing to see on the monitor. The screen was completely black because the bathroom light was off. Still I felt giddy; even if I couldn't see anything I'd crossed a line. In some way it was better not being able to see, because I was being bad without doing anything wrong. The time stretched on as I sat in my dark bedroom. I could have fast forwarded the recording but I didn't. I didn't turn it off either. I just let the event wash over me.

After a while my blouse began to feel tight. I undid the top two buttons, and before I knew it my hand was running over the tops of my breasts encased in my heavy duty support bra, leaving a trail of goose bumps and a delicious shiver down my spine.

It felt like the recording had been running for 20 minutes, or maybe it was five, I really couldn't say. All I know is it felt like a very long time. Maybe Johnny hadn't taken a shower that morning? Maybe the recording was going to just be of a dark empty room for an hour? Maybe I could walk away from this and still be a good girl?

Just then, the light came on and the camera showed Johnny stumbling into the bathroom. He looked half asleep with his adorable bed head. Without any sort of preamble my 18-year-old son turned on the shower and began to shed his tee-shirt and sweats. I didn't really get a chance to study Johnny's body before he slid into the shower; I mean aside from a peek at Johnny's ass which looked like it had been carved out of marble.

When Johnny closed the door to the shower behind him, the frosted glass made it impossible for me to tell anything specific about his body. Still I could see the silhouette of a muscular young man. The muscles of his arms and shoulders were clearly defined even through the glass. As Johnny washed his hair I could see the bunch of muscles at the base of his neck, and his vee-shaped back filled the glass.

My mouth suddenly got dry as I realized that wasn't the body of my little boy in that shower; it was the body of a man, a powerful young man. I could hear the rustle of my pants suit as I slowly rubbed my thighs together.

I suddenly pictured myself in the shower with Johnny, standing behind him; my soapy hands starting at his hips and ever so slowly running up the sides of his body until I reached his chest, where they snaked around him drawing him into a tight embrace so I could grind my bare tits into his back as I nibbled at his ear.

My one hand was now squeezing and massaging my bra encased breast, and my other hand had dropped down into my lap and I was rubbing a big hard circle on the front of my lap.

Johnny got out of the shower and dried himself with a towel. I couldn't really see anything until he stepped up to the sink when I got a clear view of Johnny's body thanks to the bathroom mirror.

Oh my god, the shadow in the shower didn't do justice to the man standing here, and don't kid yourself my Johnny was all man. There nothing boyish about the body I was staring at. There wasn't an extra ounce of fat anywhere on my baby. From his strong sexy chest, to the hard ridges of his abs that rippled down his stomach, and every inch of those rock hard muscles was covered with smooth flawless skin.

My breathing was getting ragged. I began yanking my clothes out of the way to get to the skin underneath. I'd worked my hand under my bra and was pinching and teasing my hard nipple.

I still couldn't see it. What I wanted to see, what I needed to see, because the counter completely blocked my view of Johnny from below the waist, aside from that rock hard sexy ass. I was panting in frustration. I mean Johnny was beautiful and oh so fucking sexy, but I still couldn't see his penis.

Johnny started brushing his teeth. I heard myself start to whine. He was almost done. He was going to get dressed soon, and I wasn't going to get to see it.

Or so I thought, until Johnny causally stepped back from counter and then I saw the biggest penis I'd ever seen in my life. No, that's not true, because what was hanging half-way down my son's thigh certainly wasn't a penis. Something that long and that fat had to be a cock and my Johnny had the biggest fucking cock I'd ever seen in my life. I couldn't tell you exactly how long it was, but it looked like it was at least twice as long as Gerald's little noodle dick, and I knew if I ever tried to wrap my hands around that big piece of meat, I'd need both hands to even hope to do it. Oh did I mention the best part? My Johnny wasn't even hard. That's what his cock looked like when it was soft.

Without a conscious thought, I crammed my hand into my panties and then it happened. Right as my fingers brushed over the top of my clit, Johnny reached down with his free hand and gave that beautiful fucking cock an idle pump. The orgasm that ripped through my body felt like it had come out of an electric chair. My back arched and locked into place. I had to bite my arm through my blouse to keep from screaming as the pleasure rolled over me like a tidal wave.

Eventually the pleasure subsided and I melted into my chair. I sleepily glanced up at the computer monitor, almost drunk from the endorphins sloshing around in my brain. The screen was dark. Johnny had finished his morning ablations and had left the room. The show was over and my curiosity had been more then satisfied. I should have erased the recording and tried to get back to normal. Instead I saved the recording, and set up the timer for the next day.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Bad Girl

I spent the next day waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know, that moment when the full weight of what I'd done would come crashing down on me, and I'd dissolve into a big puddle of guilt. I mean a good girl would feel terrible about peeping on her own son, right?

I woke up 20 minutes before my alarm went off and bounced out of bed. I showered, put on my makeup, did my hair, even had breakfast, and still was out the door 10 minutes earlier then when I usually left for work. I hadn't had this kind of energy since I was 20.

Work flew by. I got done all the work that I hadn't finished the day before by ten. By two I was working on reports that weren't going to be due until next week. My personal assistant commented that she could barely keep up. I laughed and told her not to worry about it; I was just having a really good day. I sent her home two hours early and told her just to go out and have some fun.

During the ride home I wondered what would happen when I saw Johnny, when I looked him in the eye, face to face. Would that be when the guilt would come crashing down?

Johnny wasn't home when I pulled up in the driveway. He'd gone to the library to study after school. I went into the kitchen and fixed one of his favorite dinners, my special meat loaf with potatoes au gratin and sautéed green beans.

When Johnny got home, he poked his head in the kitchen with a hopeful look on his face. "Is that what I think it is?" He asked. I told him it was. "What's the special occasion?" He asked pleasantly confused.

"It's Tuesday, now wash your hands and set the table before it gets cold." I told him with a smile and a wink.

There's no greater joy then watching a teenage boy eat. Johnny had thirds of everything his mama made for him, and the only reason he didn't have fourths is I reminded him there was ice cream in the freezer. I've always loved watching Johnny eat, for some reason feeding my baby boy always makes me feel like a mom.

After dinner we sat down on the couch and watched one of those action movies Johnny loves so much. It was fun to just spend a quiet night with my boy and I felt totally at peace with the world when he gave me a chaste peck on the cheek and went upstairs to bed. I turned out the lights and followed my baby upstairs soon afterward.

When I got to the top of the stairs I realized I wasn't going to feel guilty about what I had done. My peeking on Johnny didn't make me a bad girl, I rationalized to myself. I cared for my son and loved him as much as any other mother, and as long as Johnny didn't find out about my peeking, what would be the harm? I was sure that in a couple of weeks I'd be over this little phase of my life and things could get back to normal.

I closed my bedroom door and walked across the room to my desk. I didn't feel guilty as I sat down, but I have to admit I was a little bothered to find out I wasn't quite the good girl I'd always thought I was.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

My life drifted into a routine over the next two weeks: work, trips to the gym three times a week, dinner with my Johnny, and rubbing my pussy raw at my computer every night before I went to bed. Granted that wasn't a normal routine, but it was my routine, and I liked it.

I couldn't get enough of Johnny's body. His powerful chest, broad tapered back, ripped abs, bulging biceps, I drank it all in with my eyes every night. It was like a drug. And then there was Johnny's cock. That delicious slab of man meat, just a glimpse of it would have me gasping towards an orgasm as I imagined my hand, or sometimes, even my mouth wrapped around that massive, powerful tool.

Everything was fine, wonderful, but towards the end of those two weeks, I noticed something. I was getting antsy, edgy, I needed something more. I needed to see my baby boy's cock hard. Granted most mornings when Johnny stumbled into the bathroom to relieve himself and take a shower he probably still had about half of his "morning wood," but that wasn't enough any more. I wanted to see that trouser snake engorged, standing straight up, ready for action. No, I wanted even more. I wanted to see my baby's dick in action. I wanted to see my boy wrap one of those big strong hands around that pillar of cock meat and pound it until he spewed out a gallon of his thick yummy teenaged boy cream.

This should have been my wakeup call that as a responsible adult I was way over the line, but as you may have noticed I wasn't feeling very responsible at the time. What I was feeling was incredibly horny, which is probably why I had no real hesitation when I moved my nanny cam from Johnny's bathroom to his bedroom.

I went up to room that night after I'd moved the camera to see what was waiting for me in Johnny's bedroom. This was completely different then my bathroom recordings. For starters I didn't know when the magic event would take place so I had to set the camera up to record for pretty much the entire time Johnny would be awake, from 7 AM to 11 PM. I had decided to fast forward through the day until I found what I was looking for. Even fast forwarding I was in front of my computer for a solid 20 minutes and I was shocked by what I saw, nothing. Well Johnny put on his clothes at the beginning of the day and took them off at the end, and he seemed to spend a lot of time at his computer (which I couldn't see from this angle), but there was no hanky panky going on in my boy's room. Needless to say I was disappointed. I decided it just hadn't been my night and went to bed without even my normal relief.

The next three nights had the same exact results, leaving me completely confused. I had a healthy 18-year-old son at his sexual peak but who according to what my camera was recording wasn't masturbating. It didn't make any sense, and as the woman who did Johnny's laundry and washed a minimum of six pairs of cum stained briefs, and several stiff hand towels every week I knew for a fact it wasn't the case. He wasn't masturbating in the bathroom, or his bedroom; I had no idea what was going on.

In the end the answer was so obvious I literally slapped myself on the forehead. It took about a week, but finally at the end of a recording I noticed Johnny pulling up his pants as he walked away from his computer. Why would my baby need to pull up his pants if he was working on his computer? It was right after I asked that question that the head slapping started.

Where else would my Johnny go looking for sexual relief, but the porn dispenser his mother had thoughtfully left on his desk? I was still calling myself a moron when I went to sleep.

The next day while Johnny was out in the garage lifting weights, I slipped into his room and moved the camera to give mommy a clear shot of his desk and computer and waited for later that night to see if I'd gotten in right this time.

When I sat down at my computer that night the butterflies in my tummy were going crazy. I need to see my baby's cock so bad it was driving me crazy. I turned on the program and hit the fast forward.

It was only a couple of minutes before the lights came on in the room Johnny sat down in front of his computer, and turned it on. I clicked on a button and began watching the tape at a regular speed. As Johnny's computer booted up he pulled his sweats down to his ankles.

So much for any late night studying I thought to myself as I sat in front of my glowing computer monitor rubbing my thighs together,

I watched Johnny click his mouse a few times as he absentmindedly rubbed the front of his fully packed briefs. Because of the glare from the screen, I couldn't see what Johnny was looking at, but judging by the way the head of his dick slowly peeked out the top of his underwear I could tell he liked it. I tore my eyes away from the hard piece of meat I'd been lusting after and looked at Johnny's face.

Johnny looked different then he normally did which sounds strange because he was just sitting there with a little grin on his face, but he looked different. Normally Johnny's grin looked cute or even mischievous, like a little boy, but this was different. Johnny's grin was almost a sneer. It was the look of a man on the hunt who liked what he saw. I felt my pussy flooded just seeing that look on my baby's face.

Johnny reached down and with no ceremony pulled his briefs down to the floor and that is when I got my first clear look of the night at my baby boy's huge fucking cock. When he sat back up in his chair it slapped against his stomach. The shaft was long straight and thick. Oh my god it was thick, I guessed with my two little hands I'd barely be able to wrap them around that hot slab off man muscle. Even in the image on my monitor I could see a couple of large veins running up the length of that massive fuck stick all the way to the bulbous head jutting a good three inches past his belly button.

Johnny reached into a drawer on his desk and pulled out a brown bottle. A random silly thought flashed through my head; so that's where my extra bottle of hand cream had disappeared to. I watched Johnny pour out a large dollop of the thick white cream and grease up that huge bulging prick from the base of his dangling balls all the way up to the tip of that huge mushroom head.

I leaned back into my chair, not relaxing, because every muscle in my body was straining and on edge; I leaned back to give myself room to cram my hand into my panties. I soon as my hand wormed into those full cotton panties, I noticed I had completely soaked the front panel with my juices. My fingers pushed down through my bush, it was like a swamp, and began rubbing the lips of my needy little snatch.

Johnny was running his big fist up and down the long shaft of his cock, but it wasn't the way I imagined him doing it. I'd always pictured a teenaged boy's self pleasure to be frantic and almost clumsy, but Johnny was anything but clumsy. Johnny's hand ran smoothly up and down the length of his rigid shaft, all the way to the very tip. Whenever his big fist got to the up to the head, Johnny would drag his thumb over the top, running it over his piss slit and smearing another big drop of precum over that cock for even more lubrication, and there was certainly nothing rushed about his actions.

Johnny's fist moved at a slow steady pace. This was no adolescent looking to rub one out. Johnny looked like a man who knew how to enjoy pleasure, and make it last. Some men went their whole lives and never learned this lesson, but my Johnny knew it and he was only 18. It was just more proof my son was a natural born stud.

I sat staring at my monitor, not even blinking an eye. I didn't want to miss a second of the recording. The only sounds in the room was the rasping sound of my breath becoming more and more ragged and the moist sticky sounds of my own fingers that were jammed deep into my sopping panties. I was hypnotized by what I was seeing on that screen just watching that hand moving up and down that slick shaft. Johnny had plenty of room for his other hand. Actually in my mind I saw my hands with Johnny's jacking that big fucking cock.

Johnny pushed back away from the desk, spread his legs wide and began to pick up his pace. I know I couldn't really see it on the monitor but I could sense that the muscles in Johnny's legs were bunched and straining. His hand was flying up and down that big piece of meat, and his other hand was down at the base holding his cock, stretching the skin tight over that throbbing dick. Johnny wasn't even looking at the screen any more, all his attention was focused on his prick.

I was vaguely aware that my hand was jammed into my panties and I was humping my fingers while I pictured that cock sliding into a pussy, splitting it wide open. Still I couldn't take my eyes off the screen.

Then it happened, Johnny's body convulsed, his hips shot up like he was trying to drive that big baby maker all the way into some slut's womb. I couldn't really see exactly what was happening, but Johnny didn't stop beating that cock for a second and every time his hips came out of the chair his cock jumped like a wild animal trying to escape. After about the third time this happened I noticed a fat white blob up by Johnny's collarbone. Soon there were two more above his tight brown nipple and more seemed to appear trailing down his body.

I didn't have a rational thought in my head, but really with three of my fingers sawing into my needy cunt up to my knuckles who would have expected something like that? Still in some deep animal part of my brain I knew what that was on my little baby boy, it was his thick white stud cum. An image flashed through my brain of Johnny pumping that spunk all over his horny mother's body and I lost it. I barely jammed my other hand into my mouth as my orgasm hit. I bit down so hard I broke the skin and that copper metallic taste of my blood filled my mouth. That first orgasm hit like a locomotive. My back arched and I waited for the pleasure to pass, but it didn't. The next orgasm came right behind it and almost as hard, it was followed by another and other, like freight cars on a long train disappearing into a tunnel.

Finally I was able to open my eyes and come back down to earth. I looked at the monitor; Johnny was cleaning those puddles of cum of his hard body. A voice in my head said it should be my mouth doing that, lapping up my big stud's teen-aged boy cream. My pussy spasmed again, but I didn't have the energy to do anything about it. I was all fucked out and my little boy hadn't laid a finger on me.

I looked down, and saw I completely soaked through the towel I'd put down on the chair before I started watching my baby. I was barely able to stumble into my bathroom and come back with some cleaning supplies. I still ended up having to clean it again the next day, but I did a decent enough job to keep the whole top floor of my house from reeking like a bitch in heat. After I tossed the towel in my bathroom hamper, I crawled into bed, turned off the lights, and slept the sleep of a well and truly satiated woman.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next day things stayed in their usual routine. Work for me, school, studying and lifting weights for Johnny, dinner at 6:30 for both of us, and some TV afterwards; even the point at the end of the night where I went upstairs to watch Johnny could be called routine given the last couple of weeks. Still there was something new in our house. I caught myself looking at Johnny in a very new way. Well he wasn't really Johnny then, at least in my eyes. He was the tall, powerful sexy man I was sharing a house with. It was only that one time, but I felt my pussy flood. I realized I wasn't looking at my son; I was looking at the man I wanted to fuck.

Of course, my cheeks started burning, because I wouldn't do that, sleep with my son, not in a million years. That would be wrong. At least that's what I kept telling myself, but after that, once or twice a day the thought would come back, no matter how hard I tried to make it go away.

I had to laugh at myself by the end of that week, thinking for even a moment Johnny might not masturbate. Since I'd moved my spy camera I saw that Johnny was jacking that big cock of his anywhere from two to six times a day. During the week it usually happened right when Johnny got home from school, and before he went to bed, but there were a couple of mornings when Johnny took care of his glorious morning wood in front of his computer before starting his day. And the weekends, the weekends! I'd never really noticed before just how much time my baby was spending in his room during the weekend. It seemed like every hour or so cum was shooting out of the end of my baby's cock. Oh, and I also quickly found out my Johnny wasn't a one shot wonder. Often my little stud would have two cums in the same session, and one time I saw him fire off four times in an hour and never go soft. By the end of that week if there had been any doubt, it was gone now. My Johnny was a fucking cocksman par excellence.

Also, by the end of that week there was a new question for me to think about, what did Johnny look at when he was at his computer, what turned my Johnny on? I think that this was the point where just how crazy I'd become became crystal clear; I went down to the electronic store that afternoon on lunch and picked up a copy of that spyware that Amy Hotkins's mother used to keep an eye on her little whore of a daughter.

It took me two days to get some time when Johnny was out of the house to load the program onto his computer, and then I had to wait until the next Saturday to get some time to go through what I'd pirated off of my Johnny's computer, but it was a real eye opener.

For starters, just the raw amount of porn that you can find on the average 18 year old boy's computer is staggering. There were hundreds and hundreds of pictures, ranging from cheesecake stuff you might find on the cover a magazine in a grocery store, to hard core shots that made even a woman who rubbed her cunt while watching her own son masturbate blush. There were a ton of stories, and a laundry list of videos. I quickly realized I wasn't going to get through all of it in one sitting and put it aside for later viewing.

My schedule started to change that week. Before, I would usually wait about an hour after Johnny to went upstairs to follow him up to our bedrooms, but now I started going up to my room right after him. I'd spend that hour going through Johnny's porn collection, and then enjoy my peek at Johnny and a mind blowing orgasm before bed.

I was surprised at first at how much that porn was turning me on, because I'd never had any appetite for it before, but it was about Wednesday that I figured out why I was getting so turned on. It was the women in the pictures, stories and videos. They weren't the hard bodied little teeny boppers you'd expect to find in a teenaged boy's porn stash. A lot of them were my age. Hell not a lot of them, most of them. It seemed my Johnny had a thing for older women.

And not just any older women, he really seemed to like this one porn star named Lexus Anderson. Johnny had on his computer. She was about my height, maybe a little older then me, dark hair like mine and blue eyes that looked like mine too. There were some differences, her boobs were a little bigger (but mine are real thank you very much), and she had some pretty tacky tattoos, but she did look enough like me for me to notice the resemblance immediately.

Johnny had at least a hundred pictures of her, but it was the videos that got to me. There must have been at least 50 of them, all hard core, all of her with younger guys, younger guys with big cocks. Those were my boy's favorite videos, of a woman who looked like his mother fucking guys who could have been him. It was after the third video that night that it dawned on me that Johnny might want his mother as much as she wanted him. I ended up fucking my hand while watching those videos until almost four in the morning that night.

Of course by the next day that idea seemed ridiculous. I was Johnny's mother for crying out loud. I was the old lady who cooked his dinner and got on him for leaving his dirty clothes on his bedroom floor. He couldn't be attracted to me, could he? By the end of my work day I had decided the idea of Johnny being attracted to me really was silly, and that was that. Of course, later that night when I was going through Johnny's porn collection it began to make sense again.

Finally after about a week I had to see for myself, was my baby boy attracted to me? I wanted to dress sexy and see if Johnny would notice me, but this lead to a problem I had never given much thought. I didn't really own any sexy clothes. My wardrobe ran heavy towards pantsuits, mom jeans, baggy sweaters, and sensible flats. My clothes were perfect for comfort, but a disaster for turning a young boy's head. I had to dig way back into my closet, but I was able to throw an outfit together with at least a slim chance of getting Johnny to notice me.

That night I walked into the house in a black skirt, granted it went three inches past my knees, but it was the shortest one in my closet. Panty hoses for bit of my leg you could see (Johnny really seemed to like stockings, and this was as close as I could get), sensible black shoes with a two inch heel that I had left over from the interview for my last promotion, and a white blouse that had got shrunk in the dryer and was really tight.

As I closed the door behind me, I unbuttoned the top two buttons on my blouse and felt my cheeks flush. I walked into the house, dumped my purse on the kitchen table and started dinner. Johnny came in the house soon after me, and did seem to hanging around the kitchen talking about the latest test he'd aced, but I couldn't say for sure it was because of me.

Until I was emptying the dishwasher and happened to glance up into the window while I was bent over, I saw Johnny's reflection in the glass; his eyes were glued to the back of my dress. My cheeks flushed again, and I had to keep my back to Johnny for while until I could stop smiling.

The four skirts in my closet began getting worn every week after that. I wore my gym clothes around the house way too often too. If it was remotely sexy it made it into my daily wardrobe and Johnny noticed every time. He didn't drool and follow me around the house with a giant hard on tenting his tight jeans, but he did always seem to find an excuse to be in the same room as me. We talked more. I found out he was thinking about majoring in bio-chemistry when he got to collage, he hadn't missed football as much as he thought he might, and then there were the looks.

The quick glances at my legs, the way his eyes would drift over my chest whenever I left buttons undone on my blouse. My baby was aware of his mother's body, and that got me wet.

On those nights I almost didn't need to peek at Johnny stroking his big cock. Those stolen peeks and glances would get me so turned on it was all I could do not to just shove my hands in my panties in front of Johnny and rub my hot cunt to a screaming orgasm. I turned my baby on, that knowledge was all I really needed.

Of course I still peeked. I loved seeing Johnny's dick, watching his strong hands rub every inch of that long shaft, seeing that thick white cum spew out of the top; I wasn't about to give that up.

Still something started to eat at me. Johnny was beating that prize piece of meat to internet porn. To faceless porn whores. I got a little jealous. I knew I excited Johnny. He should have been thinking about me when he was masturbating. Finally I decided that cum was mine, and I was going to get it.

So the question became how could I get Johnny's attention away from that bunch of sluts on his computer? Luckily, thanks to going through Johnny's computer I knew exactly what would get my boy's attention. Still it took me about a week to work up the courage to order what I needed online. Three days later, when the delivery man dropped off my packages I was ready to put my plan into action.

"Hey mom, are you home?" Johnny called out when he came through the door the next afternoon.

I told him I was in the kitchen and just kept my attention on the chicken I was making for dinner. I heard Johnny come into the room and then I heard a bang, like someone walking into a chair.

I turned around. My ears had been right Johnny was standing in front of a knocked over kitchen chair, his book bag dangling from one hand as he stared at me with his mouth hanging open.

"Oh your home sweetheart," I said with a bright smile.

I put down my spoon and walked across the kitchen. I Johnny a sweet welcome home peck on his cheek which also gave him the opportunity to smell that new perfume I had picked up the night before. I turned and started walking back across the kitchen.

"Ummm, mom?" Johnny asked.

"Yes dear?" I asked innocently turning around in the middle of the room.

"Uh, your clothes..." Johnny wasn't able to finish his sentence

"Oh, you mean my new outfit?" I said twisting back and forth on one shoe in my new clothes.

Well actually that shoe was a red four inch stiletto high heel. It matched my barely there red tartan mini-skirt. In between where sheer white thigh high stockings that matched the tiny white sleeveless blouse with the plunging neckline. That neckline came in handy because the bra I was wearing was really more of a shelf for my tits, pushing them up on display like a pair of ripe cantaloupes. The finishing touch to the outfit were the high cut white French panties I was wearing. Of course Johnny would only be able to see those if I bent over in front of him, and I wouldn't do that, would I? I was a good girl.

I giggled, "Well, I've been making such progress working out, that I was thinking I'd wear some more fun outfits this summer, so I thought I wear them around the house for right now, you know to build up some confidence."

Johnny didn't say a word; his eyes were riveted to the edge of my skit brushing the tops of my stockings as I twisted back and forth.

"You don't think your old mom is being silly, do you honey?" I asked. Johnny didn't look up; he was hypnotized by my sleek thighs.

"Johnny, you don't think I'm too old to wear clothes like this do you baby?" I mock pouted.

"God no, you're hot mom," Johnny said without thinking. Hell without even looking up.

There it was, a heartfelt compliment of my looks from my baby boy, but there more proof then words that Johnny liked what he saw. I glanced down at the front of his jeans and was able to watch that big cock surge down his tight pant's leg. I started my own staring, and felt my tongue come out and lick my lips.

Johnny must have noticed his erection, because he blushed scarlet and stumbled out the kitchen mumbling about how he needed to put his books away. He lurched out of the room, barely able to walk with that gigantic piece of man meat jammed in the front of his pants.

I did that. I thought to myself, and inside my head I jumped up and down like a naughty little school girl.

Johnny was up in his room for almost 20 minutes before I managed to get him to come out of his room for dinner, which was fine by me, because my little show was just getting started. I was out of my chair every two minutes during dinner, getting more food for Johnny, more food for me, more milk, seconds for Johnny, and twice I ended looking in the refrigerator bent over at the waist, giving Johnny a perfect view of those high cut panties stretched over his mother's round little butt. I even pressed my straining boobs up against his neck when I leaned in to him that big piece of cherry pie I'd made from scratch for my baby boy that day. I was shameless, and it was exhilarating.

Johnny was in a fog all through dinner. He couldn't keep his eyes off his mother's body. My boobs, my ass, my legs, whatever was on display his eye were drinking up. He chewed with his mouth open, like he was in a trance. He tried for about three minutes to carry on a normal conversation, but he quickly gave up and his standard reply to any lull in the conversation was to mumble "uh huh", whether I had said anything or not.

After dinner Johnny made a beeline for the bathroom, and judging by how long he was in there he must have jerked his cock at least once. Of course I wasn't through for the night, not by a long shot.

I got Johnny a soda when he sat down in front of the TV and of course I had to refill it every ten minutes which meant I had to walk in front of Johnny and bend over, shamelessly putting my tits on display for close up inspection. I kept the remote control with me, but claimed it wasn't working from my seat. This required me to stand in front of the TV and bend over, supposedly for the remote control to work, but really to give Johnny a clear close up view of my panty clad ass. And when I wasn't doing these cute little tricks I just sat with my legs crossed, one stiletto dangling off of my stocking clad foot as I sucked my thumb. I was shameless. The average whore on a street corner showed more restraint then I did that night, and I never felt more alive in my life.

For the first time in my life I was using my body to get attention from a man I wanted, and trust me that night as far I was concerned Johnny was a man. No, he was the man I wanted to turn on.

It probably didn't help my behavior that Johnny's cock was hard as a rock the entire night. Just seeing the outline of that big monster dick in those tight denim pants, and knowing it was there because of me, made me crazy with lust.

Finally Johnny staggered upstairs to bed about an hour before he normally went upstairs. He mumbled something about being tired, but that bulge in jeans said he had other plans. This was fine by me because I'd been as crazy as a bitch in heat for the past hour.

My cunt had been on fire since I had slid into those little slut panties that afternoon. That meant my hot desperate to be filled pussy had been dribbling out my lady cream for a good six hours at this point. Those panties were soaked I'd bet they would have weighed five pounds if I had tossed them on the scale that night. I was dying for relief when Johnny went upstairs.

Five minutes after Johnny went up the stairs I followed him, stopping only to turn off the downstairs light.

When I got to my room, I closed the door behind me in my room and made a beeline to the computer. I quickly turned on my spy cam and was baffled by what I saw in Johnny's room darkness. Apparently my Johnny, the young man with the cock you could have used to hammer railroad spikes five minutes ago had gone to bed. What the fuck?

I backed the recording up to about the time Johnny had gotten home that afternoon and seen me for the first time. At first I didn't see anything, then Johnny's hand tossed his book bag on to his chair but he didn't sit down at it. I was confused until I noticed something in the corner of the screen, which showed the very edge of Johnny's bed. I could see Johnny's white tennis shoes on the bed, his legs were spread wide and his jeans were jammed down around his ankles. I realized my baby was beating his meat on his bed.

Johnny didn't need his computer for inspiration today. All he needed to cum was to think of his hot mom. I came four times that night just watching my boy's shoes and knowing he was thinking of me.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Now that I knew for sure what Johnny liked I started shopping like crazy. I still wince when I think about how much money I spent in those first couple of weeks, but everything I bought I knew would get Johnny as hard as a rock.

I bought mini-skirts in every color in the rainbow, the shorter the better. Halter tops, peek-a-boo blouses, tank dresses that clung to every curve on my body like a second skin, hot pants, skirts slit up to the waist, and I even bought some super tight jeans and turned them into daisy dukes.

Then there were the shoes. I bought anything with a heel, the higher the better. Platform soles, stiletto heels, mules, and boots too from ankle to thigh high, all dyed to match my new skirts.

Finally there was all the lingerie I bought. I bought a few bras, none of which were for support. The only time I wore them was when I wanted my tits bulging and showing miles of cleavage for my Johnny. There were panties, the wispier and tinier the better. There were thongs that would make an old stripper blush, garter belts, stockings, knee socks, frilly anklets, and even some trashy jewelry like ankle bracelets and belly chains.

And every night when I paraded around in front of my teen aged son in whatever slutty little outfit I'd picked out that day, I had his undivided attention. After a while, Johnny's cock was hard when he walked through the door after school, just at the thought of how I would be dressed, and I made sure kept that big dick standing straight up until he stumbled off to bed at the end of the night. I teased him unmercifully, finding new ways to show off my tight little ass or long legs every day. I couldn't keep my hands off him. I was constantly straightening his clothes, which gave me the chance to wrap my hands around those powerful arms, or accidentally run my hand over his sculpted butt when I was supposedly tucking his shirt in.

Our house suddenly became much smaller, at least that's what it must have seemed like to Johnny. I was continually finding new reasons to press my body against his. Pressing up against his back and dragging my tits across it, wondering if Johnny could feel my hard nipples, was a favorite pastime for me now.

I suddenly needed Johnny's help almost every day. To help his old mother keep her balance on step stools when she reached for things in the closet, when I ran out reasons for me to be going in the closet four times a night, I just started asking Johnny to "steady me" when I reached into the top shelves in the kitchen. It sounds ridiculous now, but I guess when Johnny saw his mommy wobbling around in open toed sandals with five inch heels a strong male hand must have made a lot of sense. All I know is every time I felt Johnny's big hands on my hips, right above the swell of my ass; I could feel my pussy just open and wide and flood with juices.

Poor Johnny had no idea what was going on. It probably seemed like his mom had gone bonkers. I pretty much went from the old woman who fixed his meals and did his laundry to some sex crazed slut overnight. Not that he was complaining very much or even at all. Johnny couldn't keep his eyes off his hot mommy, and it got to the point where he even stopped trying to hide those big hardons I was causing.

Every night after Johnny stumbled upstairs to his bedroom to pump quarts of thick white boy cum out of his cock while thinking about his slut of a mother, I was right behind him. I'd moved my spy camera so I got the full show now, and didn't have to settle for just looking at his feet; god, the sight of him lying nude on his narrow bed; his hand flying up and down that long hard dick drove me fucking berserk.

I wasn't finger fucking myself any more. Along with all those trashy outfits I'd bought online, I'd also purchased my very first vibrator. It was called the Big John, and it certainly lived up to its name. It turned out to be a little longer then Johnny's cock, but not quiet as thick. From the first day it arrived I loved having that big cudgel jammed up my dripping pussy while I looked at my Johnny fisting his pole. It made it seem like he was in the room with me, and when I put that buzzing tip of it on my clit while watching Johnny cum? The orgasms would pound me like surf on a beach.

What happened next, I can at least slightly blame on alcohol. I mean I can't blame the peeping; hacking in to his computer, or dressing and acting like a slut around Johnny on alcohol, but for what happened next I think booze played at least a slight helping hand.

I had got stuck going to an after work event with my co-workers. It was at a bar and the liquor was flowing pretty freely. Mainly because I think one of our salesmen was making a play for me. God, the guy was in his mid-40's with a gut and what looked like the beginnings of a comb over, like he ever had a shot. I had a real man at home.

Anyway, I was finally able to make my escape, but I didn't get home until after ten and was still pretty drunk. Johnny had already gone to bed. So I trudged up the stairs, and went to my room.

I was feeling antsy. Partially it was from the drinks at the bar, but mainly it was because I didn't get to have any play time with Johnny. With Johnny already in his room I couldn't slip into that green micro mini-skirt and a tight lavender halter top I was just dying to have him see me in.

I knew I could watch one of the recordings I'd made of Johnny, watch him lying there with eyes closed and both hands flying up and down his cock as he thought about his mother acting like a complete slut. I knew I'd have a good orgasm, ok three good orgasms, if I did, but to be honest I didn't want to wait for the computer to boot up and run the spy camera program. I needed relief right then.

I opened my desk drawer and pulled out my lube and Big John, and headed over to my bed. I kicked off my flats and slid out of my boring navy blue pantsuit, leaving me in just the scarlet bra and thong I'd put on that morning. I'd started wearing my at home lingerie to work. No one could see them and it helped get me in the mood to think up new sexy things for Johnny later that night.

I crawled up on to my queen sized bed, positioned my pillows so I had a nice cushion to lie against, and then noticed I hadn't closed my bedroom door. It wasn't open all the way, maybe halfway, and Johnny had to be asleep by now, and still being a little tipsy, I just didn't feel like getting back up. I decided as long as I was quick and quiet, it wouldn't matter.

I set Big John and lube aside for right now and just ran my hands over my body. Starting with my smooth silky thighs, up over my hips and on to my taunt stomach I just grazed my hands with my fingertips leaving a trail of goose flesh. In my mind I pictured big strong hands caressing me, hands like Johnny's. I teased my bellybutton for a while feeling delicious shivers run through my body and then moved my hands up to my bra covered breasts. I ran my hands over the satin material of the bra, cupping my full firm tits, pushing them together, feeling my nipples begin to bloom against the fabric.

Johnny loved my tits. I thought of the other Saturday when I'd wore that tube top and it had slipped down enough for Johnny to see the very top of my nipples; his cock had looked like a prize winning cucumber crammed into his jeans. I thought about when I'd bent over his shoulder to ask him so made up question about the action movie he'd been watching on television and had basically put my tits right in his face. I thought about the way he'd blushed as scarlet as my bra and had almost run up the stairs to his room. I thought about the way he'd stayed up there for an hour and jerked that big fucking cock of his, shooting five big loads of cum all over himself.

I unfastened the bra with a flick of my fingers, exposing my breasts to the cool night air in my room, and then to the heat of my hands as I traced and teased my nipples until they were hard as pebbles. I pictured Johnny's hands on my tits and smiled to myself. Yes my baby boy would take very good care of his mommy's big tits.

My right hand moved down my body, all the way down until it came to that tiny little red thong I was wearing. My hand caressed my satin covered pussy. I was so hot down there, and so wet. My juices were already dribbling out from under that tiny piece of fabric.

As I rubbed my hot little snatch I thought about how often I flashed my panties at Johnny. A scene flashed into my mind. I pictured Johnny coming up behind me as I made dinner at the kitchen counter. I pictured him roughly moving one of his hands up under my barely there mini-skirt and palming his mommy's hot little cunt as he stretched his other big strong hand over one of my full heavy tits. As that picture filled my mind my fingers just naturally wormed their way under my panties and began tracing the length of my hot needy honey pot.

I heard something. I realized it was me. I was quietly moaning as the tips of my fingernails traced my pussy lips. I reminded myself that I had to be quiet, yes very quiet. If I could just be quiet I could keep playing, and I was in no condition to stop now.

No I couldn't stop now. Actually I was ready for more. I picked up Big John and that bottle of lube, and greased that big latex satisfier up for action.

I was about to just shove it in my sopping wet pussy when I suddenly got a wonderfully naughty idea. I brought that big fake cock to my mouth and let my tongue snake out and licked over every inch of it.

In all of Johnny's videos those sluts always sucked cocks. That's what my baby like. I pictured myself down on my knees at Johnny's feet running my tongue over his cock.

I started lapping at the head of that vibrator. God I could almost taste Johnny in my mouth and feel his precum trickling down into my throat. I slowly pushed it into my mouth, imaging Johnny feeding me his big pole. I could feel my cheeks bulging as I started bobbing my head taking more and more until that big plastic prick was pushing against the back of my throat, wrapping my tongue around it and moaning like a whore the whole time.

Soon the vibrator was drenched in my saliva, and I was ready for more. I pulled Big John from my mouth and flicked on the vibrator on. A low quiet hum filled the room. I put the tip of Big John to one of my nipples. God it was like being hooked up to electrical current. The vibrations ran from my nipple straight down to my pussy and I was gasping in pleasure.

Another picture flashed in my mind of something Johnny liked. I moved Big John between my cleavage. I titled my head down and spat on my tits. That extra lubrication was just what I needed as I pushed my big boobs together and fucked my tits with that big fake dick.

Johnny loved tit fucking. That Lexus Anderson was getting tit fucked all the time in her videos. I saw her in my mind on her knees with some stud's love muscle pistoning between her patent leather tits like there was no tomorrow as she talked dirty to him. Suddenly it wasn't Lexus Anderson and some nameless stud, it was Johnny and I. Johnny straddling me, humping my tits for all he was worth as I told him how much his mommy loved his big cock and couldn't wait to drink down all of his cum.

Fuck, that was it, I couldn't wait anymore. I yanked that tiny little thong clean off my body pulling it out of the way. I threw that scarp of fabric towards the corner and shoved Big John into my desperate little twat. The vibrator sunk a god five inches into me on that first hard shove. I heard myself cry out, not from pain (that would come the next day) but from satisfaction. I needed something big long and hard in me and I was finally getting it.

I kept pushing it forward, backing up only far enough to get more room to feed more of that plastic fuck toy into me, I got that long rod about seven inches into me, and couldn't wait any more; I started pumping Big John in and out of my sopping little box.

I started slowly pulling and pushing that big toy in and out of my body, each time feeling that big oversized head creep in just a tiny bit more then it had been before. Soon I had that vibrator all the way in me. God, it felt like heaven, just laying there stuffed full of cock. I knew one thing that would feel better, and started giving myself a good full, deep fucking.

As I humped that big dildo in and out of my yawning pussy I saw yet another picture in my mind. It was of me on this bed, naked, with a big well hung stud riding me for all he was worth. Then suddenly that faceless well hung stud turned into my Johnny. My little boy was pumping his oh so long, oh so thick, motherfucking cock as deep and hard and as fast as he could. And I was laying underneath him, matching my teenaged son stroke for stroke, rolling my hips, begging and crying for my baby to never stop fucking me.

I could hear myself panting like I was finishing a marathon, and the wet sloppy sounds of Big John being jackhammered into my ravenous pussy overlapped them. The vibrations from that plastic cock traveled straight up from the depths of my womb directly into the pleasure center of my brain. I knew I would cum any second now, and couldn't wait.

I opened my eyes. I wanted to watch myself getting fucked, see that plastic fuck toy almost getting sucked into my pussy on every stroke, and that's when I saw it, a shadow by the open door. It was a large man sized shadow, and there was only one man who lived in this house. Was it Johnny I thought, was Johnny watching his mother act like a complete slut?

Even then, drunk and teetering on the edge of a monster orgasm I knew what I should do. Hide myself under my covers. Jump out of that bed and flee into the bathroom locking myself away in shame forever. Hell crawl under the bed and die of embarrassment, I just needed to stop this depravity at once.

I didn't do that. I put my feet flat on the mattress and thrust my hips completely off the bed, displaying my cunt for whoever was at that door and fucked myself even faster. In the end I could hear myself half moaning, half chanting, "yes, yes YES," over and over until the biggest orgasm of my life ripped through my body like a typhoon. I heard myself scream, and was always amazed later I hadn't broken every mirror in a two block radius.

Eventually I was spent, and crumpled against my bed like a broken rag doll. I opened my eyes; the shadow at my doorway was gone, almost as if it had never been there. I should have finally gotten up and finally closed that damn door, but I didn't have the energy. I feel asleep naked on top of my bed, with Big John still lodged up inside me.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

I woke up the next morning with a nasty hangover and a sore pussy. I quickly stumbled through my morning routine and got into work a half hour early. I spent the whole day at work trying to convince myself I'd just imagined that shadow at my door. Johnny hadn't seen his mother behaving like a shameless whore. At least that is what I prayed over and over.

I'd curl up and die if Johnny had seen me acting that way. The teasing and the outfits were one thing, but to have my little boy see just what his mother was really capable of made my cheeks burn and just made me want to crawl under a rock.

Finally, I reluctantly went home. There were no sexy outfits that night; I stayed in my work clothes as I threw some leftovers together for dinner. Johnny came home from the library and gave no indication he had seen anything the night before. He gave me quick peck on my cheek when he came in the kitchen and asked my about my day.

We had dinner, watched a little TV and Johnny went upstairs without ever giving me any sign he'd seen his own mother masturbating like a desperate nympo the night before. I followed Johnny up about ten minutes later, after turning off the lights I followed my son upstairs.

When I got to the top of the stairs I noticed Johnny's door was open, and as I walked closer I could hear noises coming from his room. I walked to the edge of the open door and peeked inside.

Johnny was lying on top of his bed, nude, and masturbating. I'd seen this on my computer almost a hundred times before, but this was different, this was real. Less then 10 feet away from me my baby boy was jerking that big cock that his mother dreamed of almost every night in her bed.

I should have walked away, not that Johnny could see me from where I was standing. The partially open door blocked me from his view. Of course thanks to the hallway light he could see my shadow, but not his actual mother. Still I should have just kept walking down the hallway to my room. If I'd done that, it would have ended right there.

Only I didn't. I didn't want it to end. I wanted to watch my Johnny beat his big cock and shoot out a river of cum, and that's exactly what I got. Johnny's hands flew up and down his big shaft. Every muscle stood out on his tight body. I could see his cute little nipples looked hard enough to cut diamonds on. And then suddenly he was cumming. With a low wounded moan the first big jolt of his man seed shot high into the air and splattered against his hard body, and that was followed by another and another and another.

Finally I was able to tear myself away from the sight of my son covered in his own cum and stumbled down the hall to my room. I pushed the door to my room open and was tearing off my clothes before I even got through the door, and within 10 minutes I had cum just as hard as my baby had.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

When I woke up the next day there was no embarrassment or shame, and when I got home that night I changed straight into that green micro-mini skirt, with the tight lavender top and topped off the outfit with some green come fuck me pumps. After dinner, it was my door that was open and I knew Johnny was standing at it watching his own mother jam four fingers into her little snatch. About ten minutes after I had cummed my brains out I heard Johnny's fist pounding his cock from down the hallway. I had my second orgasm of the night when my baby had his first. Neither of us ever looked back.

Johnny and I started going to bed earlier and earlier, mainly because the first one up the stairs got to put on the show for the other one. Then whoever had just watched would retire to their room, and leaving the door open moaning and groaning and let their family member know just how much they'd enjoyed the show.

Both our doors were wide open now all anyone had to do was look up and make eye contact and the last tattered shreds of privacy or decency in our home would be gone, but nobody looked up, and neither of us ever crossed the threshold in to the other's room.

I like to think Johnny didn't do it, because I raised him right. That if as lust crazed as I had made him he still knew right from wrong. As for myself, I had a lot less faith. I knew I was way past the border of right and wrong. No for me that last step would be leaving the chance of ever being the good girl I had always been behind forever, and becoming a full fledged sexual outlaw completely beyond the pale of conventional morality. Maybe I was being hypocritical, or was just plain scared of what I could become, but I couldn't take that step any more then Johnny could. That is until that one night.

Johnny had gone to bed almost ten minutes after the dinner dishes were done, and I had been hot on his heels. That was at about eight o'clock and it was well after midnight and we had taken a moments rest from our pleasure in over four hours. We each were in our own room, with the door wide open. The hallway between us carried our gasps, groans and moaned obscenities. It was that dirty talk that was the final straw.

It had started very impersonal, things you'd hear in any run of the mill porn movie. "Mmmmmm...fuck...yeah."

Then it moved on to more specific things like, "oh god my cock is like an iron bar," and "my pussy is on fire." No names, nothing about the other person at the end of the hall. Of course it escalated.

Soon it was things like, "I wish I had a big dick to wrap my lips around," or "I'd love to put my cock between some big tits and cum all over them." Of course that wasn't the end of it.

"That big piece of man meat looked so hard in your pants today; I shoved my hand in my panties while I was fixing dinner."

"Oh god your ass looked so fucking sexy in that little skirt, I thought my prick was going to rip right through my jeans."

Finally it happened, it was bound to happen, the line got crossed.

"Oh god mom, I just wanted to rip that dress off you and throw you over the kitchen table."

"Oh baby I can't get your big fucking cock out of my mind."

"Fuck mom, I want you so bad."

"God Johnny I need that big hard cock in my pussy, now!" I heard myself moan, and that was it. It was out there, the truth I wanted my son's cock, and I was going to get it.

I stumbled out of my bed and ran to the door. When I got there, standing in that doorway wearing only a pair of red stiletto high heels, my hair tousled, and with my open pussy and thighs covered in my own juices, I saw Johnny standing in his doorway. Naked, a thin sheen of sweat made every muscle on his body stand out, his chest heaving like he'd been running for miles, and that fucking cock. Johnny's dick had never looked, longer, or thicker or stood straighter then it did when he stood there in that doorway. The look in Johnny's eye was pure lust. I know he could see that in mine as well. Without a word we ran to each other.

We met in the middle of the hallway with a low moan of animal need. Johnny scooped me up into those powerful arms of his and brought my lips to his. Our kiss was open mouthed and almost desperate. Our tongues whipped around each other as we tasted each other for the first time. I felt the broad strong pectoral muscles on Johnny's body crush my breasts against his chest. My hard nipples dragged over that smooth flawless skin of Johnny's shooting sparks of pleasure through my body and I moaned into my son's mouth as I felt that huge, hot, throbbing cock poke into my stomach. I couldn't wait any longer. I pulled at Johnny's shoulders trying to drag him to the floor.

Johnny knew what I wanted and lowered me to the floor, positioning himself between my lewdly spread legs. My hand snaked out and found my Johnny's prick, taking control. My boy would have plenty of other opportunities to learn how to find his way into his mother's pussy, but tonight she needed him in her wet desperate cunt now. I moved that huge fat head down to my pussy hole and slid it in.

I heard myself moan like a cheap whore when my son's cock entered me. I know this is where I am supposed to say there was pain that turned to pleasure. Women always say that whenever they get fucked by a real man sized cock. Hell, for them it might even be true, but the truth for me was Johnny's huge oversized pussy pleaser went into his mommy like a hot knife into butter. I guess I was ready for it. I'd been ready for Johnny's cock for a long time.

When Johnny got all the way in me it was his turn to moan. It was a deep guttural sound partially of bliss, and also amazement, the amazement of a boy getting to fuck the woman who brought him into the world.

Johnny just stayed there, his eyes closed lost in the pleasure of my pussy. His cock felt wonderful, but I needed more. I began to slowly undulate my hips. I reached up, sucking at my Johnny's ear. "Come on baby, "I whispered into his ear, "fuck your mommy."

Johnny slowly pulled his cock back, and I found myself purring like a large jungle cat. That big man muscle filled me up so well, every inch of my pussy felt like it was on fire. God I was in heaven as Johnny pulled his cock back and didn't think life could ever get any better then this. Then Johnny started pumping that big cock into his mom and I found out life could get a lot fucking better.

Johnny started slowly, gradually picking up the pace until he was pounding my pussy into the hallway floor. My long legs were soon wrapped around his powerful back urging him on each stroke to go faster, harder, deeper. My arms were wrapped around his broad shoulders and I know I had so tight a grip my nails had to be carving trails in his skin.

I was lost in the moment, in the pleasure. No man had ever fucked me the way Johnny was fucking me right now. I knew even if I could remember Johnny's father, there was no way that man could fuck me the way his son was right now in our suburban hallway. My son Johnny was the man I had been waiting for my whole life.

I was sobbing from the pleasure, whimpering like a bitch in heat and constantly begging for Johnny to fuck his mother harder, deeper.

Johnny groaned in my ear. "Mom you are so fucking hot, I'm never going to stop fucking you," he promised.

"Whenever you want baby," I gasped as my big titties bounced with every hard, fast thrust. "Whatever you want. Umm fuck, yeah, I'm going to suck you're big fucking cock every day after school, and yeah, more Johnny more, and fuck you till you cum all over me every night!" I shouted making my own promise

"Oh god mom you sound like such a fucking slut!" Johnny panted.

"I am baby," I cried. "I'm your motherfucking mommy slut!"

And then I threw back my head and screamed as the orgasm that I had been waiting for since I had first started thinking about my son's cock ripped through my body. Johnny wasn't too far behind me. I heard him start to howl too and felt those big bolts of cum start firing deep into his mother's womb.

I don't know if I had several normal orgasms one right after the other or one incredibly long one, all I know is I almost lost consciousness as Johnny pumped every drop of his seed into my hungry pussy. Eventually Johnny was spent and slumped down covering my body with his own.

We lay there in the hallway for a long time not saying a word, just lightly stroking each other's bodies. Eventually Johnny slid that still heavy cock put of my satisfied pussy and stood up. He picked me up in his arms, gave me the tender kiss of a lover and carried me across the threshold of my room, to what would become our bed.

Johnny and I spent the rest of the week fucking our brains out (as far as his high school and my work knew we both had "the flu"), and we never looked back.

Well that's my story, and while I'm not saying that's every slut's story, that's this particular mommy slut's story, and I wouldn't change one bit of it.