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First Published: 21 October 2016

Shocked
by Isabella

Story Code: F/m, m/f+(masturbation), Incest, Mum/son, Under-age

I knew luck existed, all of my life I'd been the recipient of luck, unfortunately all of it bad luck, well, maybe not all of it bad luck, I did count my son Peter as my one piece of good luck, that good luck would have been even better luck if Peter's father had stayed around long enough to marry me or even to see the birth of his son!

Against all the odds I managed to get a part time job that I could do while Peter was at school, a job that paid me just a little better than the money I would have got if I'd relied on the state for benefits so I managed to get Peter and myself a few of the nicer things in life, we even managed a week in Spain for our summer holiday.

A few weeks before Peter's thirteenth birthday I went to call on a customer, Paul Gamble at PG Plastics in Wellingborough, he didn't really have time to see me, he was fighting a huge business fire, one of his main machines had exploded just as he was about to start a massive contract, the machine was an injection moulding machine, it was fifty years old so none of the modern machines were anything like it, that wouldn't be too bad, a newer machine would be far more economical, far more productive and would help his profit margin, but the moulds for the job had been made and wouldn't fit on a new machine. I was following him back and forth as he was going through the foothills of a nervous breakdown. I checked the machine's make and model, one of my other customers, John Fisher the owner of Fisher Designs in Kettering had exactly the same machine and he was about to sell it for scrap because he was switching over to two of the newer, smaller, faster and quieter machines at the end of his current production run.

I phoned John Fisher, asked him how far his staff had got with stripping out his old machine. They hadn't started breaking the machine down as the final product had been given another ten thousand production run; he would be starting the rip-out first thing the next day. "How much is the scrap man giving you for the old machine?"

"Four thousand pounds, why?"

"Would you be willing to sell your machine to Paul Gamble over in Wellingborough?"

There was a long silence on the phone and then, "I'd be willing to sell my machine to Paul but not for four thousand, if he's going to use it I'll want eight grand for it and if he wants it taking out clean, he'll have to send his staff over to break it down, I'll need it out by close of business tomorrow!"

"I'll talk to him and get back to you...can I come over later and see if you need any supplies for your new machines?"

"Sure, everything's quiet this afternoon."

I'd momentarily lost sight of Paul Gamble but I could still hear him imploding somewhere out on the factory floor so I went to the coffee machine and made him a coffee, white with one sugar, then I lay in wait for him to pass me. He was a little like a tornado as he came through the building, he was a fury of turning flesh, shouting at everyone and everything as he approached, I closed my eyes and stuck my hand into the maelstrom, grabbed a hold of material, jacket lapel I think, and dragged him to a standstill. He looked stunned and shocked; shocked at the fact that I was still there trying to sell him pelletized plastic stock for his production line and stunned that I'd dared to stop him mid-rant. I forced the coffee into his hand, "If you're interested, I can get you the twin brother to your broken machine for eight thousand pounds, it's just finishing off a production run, if you want to be able to use it after it's removed you'll have to send your mechanics to dismantle it and you have to have it out by six o'clock tomorrow afternoon."

Paul still looked shocked but his face had reduced from fire engine red down to a shade that I'd call blood-orange red, "Well, I'm listening!"

"Fisher Designs are replacing their old production line with two new Engel moulders, it's still running at the moment so you can pop over and see it in action before you part with your hard earned cash!"

Paul almost burned his throat drinking his coffee far too fast, he sent his mechanics over to Kettering in a van with all of their tools and he dragged me out to his car and we broke all the speed limits on our way to Kettering so he could see the machine with his own eyes. In his mind, even if the machine was a dog, if he could get the part that had just exploded on his old machine off it would be worth every penny of eight thousand pounds.

Paul's mechanic had checked the machine over, the meter that measured how many hours the machine had run since it had been built was only one third as high as his old machine because Fisher Design was right next to a housing estate and so they only had zoning to work from eight am to six pm and Paul's machine had been running twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week in his factory. Paul's guys were busily cleaning the plastic feed line of molten plastic before it set solid, not that it would have been an issue, it would have just taken longer to clean once it had set.

Paul's senior mechanic took Paul to one side, "You need to go and see the owners of the house at the side of the factory, work out a compensation payment so that we can work past six o'clock and call the heavy mover people, see if they can get here sometime after midnight and we could have this beast on our doorstep by eight o'clock and talk to John Fisher's guys, pay them to rip our old machine out this afternoon, if it all goes well we can be up and running within twenty-four hours of the breakdown."

I left Fisher Design on my own with men running all over the place, I had to catch a bus back to Wellingborough to collect my car but I didn't mind, John Fisher had given me an order for twenty tons of clear pellets and Paul had agreed to take one hundred tons of bulk plastic and an assortment of dyes in different colours. I'd made my week's sales target in just one afternoon so I'd be into bonus payments for the rest of the week.

I didn't really think anything more of it until I got a call from John Fisher; He was asking me to meet him for lunch on the day before my son's birthday. I wasn't used to customers inviting me out for lunch, I'd invited customers to lunch many times, working lunches and working breakfasts were tools in the sale's person's toolbox to get a customer sitting down long enough to listen to the sales pitch. John welcomed me with a kiss on my cheek, it was only a pub lunch rather than a posh restaurant but that was okay, we didn't talk business, I asked how John's new machines were settling in, he wasn't totally happy, his plastic stock for the new machine wasn't flowing as it should and he was running at a ten percent failure rate, I'd heard of the problem before, the new machines were smaller, the moulds didn't have the mass to retain the heat like the old machine and the plastic was setting before it filled the mould causing stress patterns in the surface of the moulding. One of the fixes that had been tried by some customers was to mix a small percentage of a plastic with a lower melting point to act as a lubricant, it hadn't cured the problem totally but usually reduced rejection rate to one or two percent rather than over ten percent.

I ordered my sweet and while we were waiting for it to arrive John handed over an envelope with two thousand pounds in cash, "Don't tell the tax man, it's by way of commission for putting me and Paul together!"

I was shocked, the plastics manufacturing industry was a small world, a very small world and shrinking all the time but I hadn't realised that business owners like Paul and John, not only didn't get on but saw each other as enemies. I'd put the two of them together for one little deal, John had a machine that he was about to throw away and Paul needed a machine in a hurry and from that one transaction, that one act of friendship, the two of them had now become friends and John had moulds and customers who needed small runs of old products and Paul had the machine that those moulds would fit on so Paul was doing small runs for John, they both took a share in the profits, John kept his old customers happy and Paul's machine ran for longer at full production, a win, win situation that I'd had some small part in facilitating.

I had to admit that two thousand pounds would be a welcome bonus and the fact that I didn't have to tell the tax man ment that it was actually worth over three thousand pounds because I wouldn't be charged tax or national insurance on the cash. And a few days before Peter's birthday meant that rather than just the Manchester United Football Club's new shirt for his birthday present I'd be able to splash out on a better present.

Peter had been hinting that he'd like a new wrist watch for Christmas, a diver's watch that was safe to ten meters, he hadn't asked for it for his birthday because he knew that it would be far too expensive for a birthday present. He didn't really need a divers watch, he wasn't really into swimming but he liked the size and the 'Bling' of big chrome face and chunky wristband. All of a sudden a sixty pound watch seemed like a very reasonable birthday present. I went from lunch with John to a jewellers shop in Wellingborough town centre with my envelope full of ill-gotten gains. I was talking to the salesman about his selection of watches when we were interrupted by Paul Gamble who had been passing and had spotted me going into the shop. He took one look at the five divers watches that were laid out on the counter in front of me, the cheapest was fifty pounds and the most expensive was a thousand pounds, outwardly I couldn't see any real difference between them, obviously one was far better quality than the other but they looked the same.

"I'd like to do you a favour Victoria, if you aren't bothered which watch you buy, I'd like to make a present for your help the other month over my breakdown!"

I was led out of the shop and Paul made a phone call to one of his customers. Paul had just been given the job of designing the display case for the next generation of fitness watches. It was like a fit-bit or apple watch, it recorded paces walked, wearers heartbeat and much, much more. The watch wouldn't be in the shops for a year at the very least, the manufacturers were involved in testing the watch's fitness, unlike the fit-bit, the next generation watch could be worn while swimming, it would know it was in water and if the swimmer was doing laps it would measure how many lengths had been swum.

Paul arranged for me to have one of the watches under evaluation, part of the next generation was that the watch would be in permanent communication with the internet, I could see on my iPad exactly where the watch was and get data from the watch in real time, things like Peter's pulse-rate, temperature, external temperature as well as his body temperature, where he was and what exercise he was doing.

I gave Peter his new watch after dinner on the day before his birthday because I thought that it would need charging up, I thought that he would need to charge it over-night so that he could wear it on his way to school. After he went to bed I loaded the application onto my iPad and read the instruction book. It counted footsteps based on the swinging of the wearers arm, it would count footsteps if the wearer had his hands in his pockets too but it would be far less accurate if the arms weren't swinging.

The watch would also give me a readout of how well my son had slept through the night, I would even see if he'd got up in the night to use the toilet, I guessed that there were certain things that I wouldn't tell my son about his new present. The face wasn't simply a digital readout or analogue hands, it was a small TV screen that could emulate the face on the most expensive watches in the world, things like showing the time in several countries, show altitude, show compass headings. The watch could be used for geo-cashing and things like that. The wearer could set a position, like where his car was parked, then he could go walking in the wilderness and the watch would direct him back to his car on request.

I went to bed myself, as usual, by myself and in the morning I woke Peter before going down to make breakfast. Usually I would just knock on his bedroom door and call his name, wish him a good morning but today, because it was his birthday, I knocked and walked in, I sat on his bed and handed him the rest of his presents before kissing him and wishing him a happy birthday. As I leaned in for the kiss I realised that he was looking straight down the front of my nighty, perhaps I should have put on my dressing gown before I went into his bedroom but it was too late to rectify that problem, he'd already seen more of his mother than he should have seen.

It bothered me that he had looked at me the way he did, that he'd seen my body down the front of my nighty, 'What the hell, it's his thirteenth birthday, he just got an added and unexpected birthday present!' My inner voice, trying its best to calm my concerns had sent a shiver down my spine as I dropped four sausages into the frying pan.

It would take ten minutes for the sausages to get started before I could put the bacon into the pan so I turned on my iPad to check my emails. Peter's wristwatch was communicating with my iPad, it showed that he was running, apparently, running on the spot in his bedroom, there had to be a mistake, I'd have to call the manufacturers and see if they could see what I was seeing. I was expecting to hear Peter moving about up above the kitchen, going from his bedroom through to the bathroom to take his shower but there was no movement from above.

I turned the sausages and then ran up the stairs, I was about to knock on Peter's bedroom door, I had my iPad in my hand, the screen said that Peter was running at a pace that would be faster than the four minute mile but his location was unchanged. His heart rate was up to one-sixty and his body temperature was up two degrees as well, I was about to knock on his bedroom door when I heard him gasp, his running stopped for two seconds and then there was another burst of activity, another gasp and he stopped running again. 'There's nothing wrong with the watch, there's nothing wrong with Peter either, he's wanking!'

I heard Peter jump off of his bed and I quickly sidestepped into my bedroom as Peter crossed the landing into the bathroom, he pushed the door closed but it didn't latch, it slowly swung open a few inches, I couldn't help looking through the open doorway as I left my bedroom, he was stripping his pyjamas off, I was expecting to see a vest and underpants under his pyjamas but there wasn't anything under, just his naked body, he turned to face the door and threw his pyjamas into the laundry basket and I spotted a pair of my knickers drop from his hand into the basket on top of his pyjamas.

It had been a long time since I'd seen my son naked, his cock was bigger than I'd expected, it was flaccid but still looked huge, there was a dew-drop hanging from the little eye at the end of his cock, he looked down at it, then he pulled my knickers back out of the laundry basket and held them against the head of his cock in one hand as the other grasped his cock close to his balls and he drew his fist up towards the head of his cock, a long string of semen was collected carefully on the crotch of my knickers.

The halo of black hair around his cock looked to be soaking wet as well, he rubbed my knickers over his pubic hair before returning them to the laundry basket. I was both shocked and excited at the same time watching my son wiping his cock and pubic mound clean of his semen with a pair of my panties. I watched Peter until he closed the curtain around the shower and turned the water on. I had to run down the stairs to turn the sausages before they burned and I dropped four slices of bacon into the pan to start them cooking. Four slices of toast in the pop-up toaster and I was cracking two eggs into the pan to fry alongside everything else as Peter walked into the kitchen wrapped in a bath towel and nothing else, well, nothing apart from his birthday present, his new wrist watch.

Peter took the toast out of the machine while I was plating our breakfasts and he spread all four slices with butter, I watched the action on my iPad, each stroke of the knife registered as another pace on my screen. We sat opposite each other as we ate, I could see a lot of his left thigh as he sat there opposite me and from time to time I saw his right hand disappear from view under the edge of the towel as he ate with his left hand. I realised that his right hand slipped under the towel every time he looked at me. I'd put my dressing gown on but from time to time the front would fall open showing my nighty covered breasts off. I moved slightly so I could better see under the table and then I leaned forward and suddenly he sprang to attention under his towel.

"What time will you be home tonight mum?"

"I'm planning to work from home today, I need to be here because I'm cooking your favourite dinner as a birthday treat so I need to be around to keep an eye on it all day."

"I was hoping to watch the football match after school; we're playing the kids from the grammar school today. Will that be okay?"

"Sure, I'll time dinner to be ready at six o'clock."

I got up from my seat; Peter's eyes were all over me in case I flashed something that I shouldn't. Things were far easier the day before when Peter was an innocent twelve year old and the only thing on his mind was the prospect of Liverpool beating his favourite team, Manchester United in the upcoming north-west derby match. I started washing the dishes while Peter finished his breakfast, it seemed to take far longer to eat breakfast with one hand while the other was stroking your cock than using two hands as I had done.

Peter came up behind me and as he lowered his plate and cutlery into the sink I felt him press his lower abdomen against my bottom, he was hard as iron and as he pressed against me he sniffed at my scent through my dressing gown and nighty.

He ran up the stairs, I watched him on my iPad screen, it showed the effort he put into climbing the stairs, even showed that his altitude was going up by fifteen feet at the time, then his activity slowed down as he reached his bedroom and suddenly he was running on the spot again, exactly eight minutes to run six thousand paces, two point eight miles at a standard seventy five centimetre pace but he hadn't moved from his bedroom.

I checked back through the history on the iPad, I saw the watch's first activation the previous evening, I saw little movements and then a period of relaxation before an explosion of activity, eight thousand paces in ten minutes or three point eight miles without leaving his bed. Once again I was shocked, I thought back to my own childhood, I was fifteen before I discovered the pleasure of masturbation and then I did it less than once a month, my son on the eve of becoming a teenager had wanked himself off once in the evening and then twice more in the morning. He almost walked in on me monitoring his nocturnal activities, my face turned red as I tried to hide my breathless excitement as I was imagining my son whacking himself off so often in such a short time.

Peter kissed my cheek before leaving for school, there was a faint smell of sweat and musk about him, perhaps I should suggest that he have his morning shower after he finished his morning wank, I chuckled at the thought of that conversation with my son, just the thought of having it sent a shiver through my body.

Peter left the house, I turned the iPad software onto location, it superimposed the 'X' that represented Peter onto a bird's eye view from Google Earth of our estate, I watched as Peter walked from our house to David Green's house and then on to Alan Baker's house before walking to school. The GPS locator in Peter's watch should have been accurate to thirty feet but from the map I could almost see him knocking on the doors of his friend's houses, not to within thirty feet but to within a foot, I knew exactly where the front door of each house was and then Peter's cross stopped on my screen it was exactly where the front door was in his friend's houses.

After Peter picked his friends up I watched as he walked a very ziggidy-zaggidy path to school and then I watched as he ran around the playground like a demented bumblebee playing football probably. At eight forty-five I saw his cross freeze in the middle of the playground for ten seconds, in my head I heard the whistle being blown, the first whistle and everyone stopped, silence fell over the playground waiting for the second whistle, telling everyone to head into the school building. I heard the second whistle in my head and Peter's cross headed into the school building.

My iPad buzzed to tell me that it was time to sign into my work's laptop and get on with some work. It was a good thing that I didn't need to use my webcam for work or they'd have seen me dressed in just my nighty with nothing at all under it. I did an hour's work, every so often my iPad burbled to say that Peter was moving around the school or just the classroom I was getting constant updates. At ten thirty I saw him running around the playground again at midmorning break, football again most likely, fifteen minutes of madness and then back to class.

Peter must have had a double lesson of English or Maths, he went to a room and all movement stopped. At eleven thirty I signed out of work and went shopping, I was close to Peter's school an hour later, I stopped my car opposite the playground and turned my iPad on, I wanted to see if Peter was in the playground but when I finally got his location sorted out he was well outside the wire and he seemed to be running on the spot again, wanking himself off for the fourth time in around eighteen hours, if he kept wanking at this rate he'd end up pulling his cock off. The fact that my son was outside the school fence was a far bigger problem than him wanking himself off in his lunch break. I followed the directions to his location, it was in the middle of the local park, there was a large building that had been a cafe and exhibition hall in the past but now it was derelict, closed down and boarded up.

I walked all around the building and from every side the pointer was centred on the building; I saw a chink in the building's armour and slipped inside. Peter was going to shit himself if I stumbled in on him masturbating himself but that couldn't be helped, I'd have to find some reason for being there, one of our neighbours saw him going into the building and called me, something like that. I crept gingerly through the building, partly to be silent but also because I was worried that the roof would cave-in at the slightest sound.

I heard talking coming from what had been the old cafe, at the door I stopped dead in my tracks, Peter wasn't alone in the room, my iPad still showed him running on the spot. I eased the door open, Peter was in the middle of the room standing in a shaft of light but he wasn't alone, he was standing in front of a girl, she was resting her bum against a table, her dress was rucked up under her chin, no knickers on and the cups of her bra had been pushed over the top of her breasts. The girl was rubbing Peter's cock with her right hand, his trousers and underpants were around his ankles. What I had seen on the iPad were the index and middle fingers of his right hand going in and out of the girl's pussy. I scanned the room quickly, Peter and the girl weren't alone in the old cafe, David Green and Alan Baker were standing a few feet away watching Peter and the girl, there were two other boys from Peter's class, I didn't know their names but I'd seen them at school events many times, the girl and four other girls were also in Peter's class, again, I didn't know their names but I'd seen them dancing at school concerts.

It looked incongruous to me that Peter and the girl were masturbating each other, her left hand was behind her propping her up on the table and while they were performing such a personal act in front of eight other students they didn't even attempt to kiss each other. Peter gave the girl a rather wonderful orgasm and then he pulled his fingers out of her cunt, he turned to the group of watchers, "Okay, who's next?"

The girl he was masturbating pulled her clothes back into place and walked away from the table, there was a little unspoken conversation between the girls before one of them stepped out of the crowd and pulled her knickers down. She was about to lean against the table and let Peter push his hand up under her dress but there was a lot of disagreement from the others, in the end she capitulated and pulled her dress and bra up under her chin, Peter rubbed his cock, bringing himself back to full erection for the girl to take over, Peter let the girl bring him close to an orgasm and then got her to skip a few beats to take the edge off of his pleasure before letting her carry on wanking him.

I could see that the girl had locked her eyes onto Alan Baker's eyes and suddenly I realised where I'd seen the girl before, I'd stumbled on them kissing passionately outside the youth club disco, I'd been with Alan Baker's mother at the time and she had gone berserk at him for kissing the girl on the dark footpath at the side of the youth club building.

Peter made short work of getting Alan's girlfriend off and she slid off of the table and returned to the group, her panties still in her hand. I really wanted to jump in and stop things but it would have really destroyed Peter in front of his friends, I'd have to have 'That' talk with Peter when he got home, you know the talk, the one that Peter's father should have given Peter but because he disappeared over thirteen years earlier he never would have with his son.

I backed out of the building as quickly and as quietly as I could while Peter was masturbating the next girl. I'd never seen so much naked flesh since I left school and stopped being forced to use communal changing rooms during sports lessons. When I got home I was in a quandary, I was so turned on, horny as hell in fact but, even though I was desperate to get rid of my internal itch I would have felt awkward doing it over the image of my son playing with so many young girls. I still had to cook Peter's special birthday treat dinner; it was a 'Bastardisation' of a Germanic dish, like a stew with suet dumplings. The basic stew had pork and lamb as the main meat and the whole thing laced with loads of wine and cooked very slowly, traditionally it would have been cooked in the embers of a large fire. The wine I used was cheap and rough, a deep ruby red that was transported in a two litre box rather than a bottle. I needed more than a litre of the wine to cook the stew but that still left plenty for me to dull the itch between my legs.

I spent the whole afternoon cooking and drinking wine, by the time Peter got home after watching his school playing football against the posh school I was as well-cooked as the meal. "How did they do?"

Peter smiled, "They scored more goals than we did but we put more of their players in hospital!"

I continued drinking as we ate; I'd finished my meal by the time I'd drunk enough to pluck up the courage to ask Peter what he'd been doing at lunch time. I started out with, "One of my friends told me earlier that she'd seen you out of school this lunch time, she was going to talk to you, wish you a happy birthday but you disappeared before she reached you and your friends!"

I looked over the rim of my glass, as soon as I finished talking I hid my face with the rough red wine, hoping that any redness in my skin would be mistaken for reflection from the content of my glass. Peter's face turned red but he seemed to be reluctant to engage in any kind of explanation.

"I thought that you were all supposed to stay inside the school grounds at lunchtime if you don't come home for lunch."

"Yes, we are but my friends wanted to give me my birthday present so we had to go out."

I'd finished my meal and Peter had just a few more mouth's full to eat so I took my plate to the sink in the kitchen, the stew pan still had lots of food left in it, at least another meal for both of us and all I'd have to do was make a few fresh dumplings to go with it. I transferred the food from the pan and into a large storage box to put in the fridge or freezer and as I did I said over my shoulder, "And what exactly was the present they had for you that couldn't be given to you in school?"

I was expecting Peter to spin me some cock and bull story as to the gift his friends had given him and if he was going to lie to me, perhaps it was a good thing that I was sozzled and it may stop me over reacting, what I'd seen was bad enough but if I then had to listen to a tissue of lies, that would be intolerable if I were sober.

Peter had finished his dinner and he joined me in the kitchen, he reached around me to put his plate into the sink, I felt his erection pressing against my hip again, I looked over my shoulder and he kissed me on my lips, he used the same technique when he was a toddler to avoid me asking him awkward questions but he hadn't done it in so long that I thought he'd forgotten that particular item from his 'Coping with an irrational mother' tool kit.

As Peter's lips left mine he gave me an awkward smile, "Mum, are you sure that you want me to tell you what I got for my birthday present? I'm not sure that you can handle it, I think you need far more wine first."

"I'd rather you just told me, however good or bad it was."

Peter grabbed my shoulder and turned me so that my back was to the sink, he reached out his left hand and took a hold of the collar of my dress, I'd chosen to wear a dress that looked like a very large man's shirt, right down to the sculpturing at the sides and the buttons all the way down the front. Peter pulled at the collar, popping the top two buttons and he leaned in and kissed me again, he kissed his way around to my ear and whispered, "I've been having a lot of difficulty getting my girlfriend to play with me so my friends leant me their girlfriends to show Dawn what a girl is supposed to do for her boyfriend!"

I desperately wanted to ask which of the five girls in the old cafe was Dawn but that would tip my hand.

"I don't understand what you mean!"

Peter kissed my earlobe and then bit it gently and as he held it in his mouth his right hand slid over my ribs and down to my waist.

"Dawn never let me see her body or touch her anywhere other than her face and hands; she never even let me touch her legs so my friend's girlfriends put on a little exhibition for her to show her how a girl should be with a boy."

A small body quake ran through me and my voice felt thick as I whispered, "Did it work?"

Peter pulled his face away from mine and looked down my body to where his right hand had stopped on my hip, his fingertips touching the ridge that the waistband of my knickers left through the thin material of my shirt-dress. He leaned back in, pressing his lips against mine again as his fingers moved left across the front of my body, following the line left by my panties. His fingers stopped when they reached the line of buttons down the front of my dress. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth and nipped down on it with his teeth gently. I trembled from the eroticism of the kiss but then even more when his fingers followed the line of buttons down the front of my dress, just two inches but it brought his fingers to the start if my gash albeit through two layers of cheap nylon.

His left hand slipped down from my collar and found the first button that was still fastened, a quick flick and the button popped open and he released my bottom lip from his teeth and pressed his cheek against mine and whispered, "Yes it was, very successful. She let me see all of her body and let me give her an orgasm with my fingers."

As he whispered in my ear his left hand caught up with his right and my dress was totally open apart from the last button closest to the bottom hem. Peter stepped away from my body and he looked down at my white bra covering my breasts and then lower as he took the two halves of the front of my dress in his hands and pulled them apart popping the final button and then he pushed my dress over my shoulders so that it fell down my arms and was captured around my wrists as I gripped tightly to the rim of the sink behind me.

His hands reached for my bra, he copped under each breast and lifted the weight, "Dawn's breasts are only thirty-two 'a', yours are so much nicer, I know that you're thirty-eight inch 'd' cup breasts, I love big titties..." His hands left my breasts and slipped along the lower strap of my bra, followed all the way to the clasp at the back and in just two seconds he'd released the four little metal hooks out of their little metal eyes and my bra fell loose across my chest before Peter pushed the cups up under my chin.

"...I got two fingers into Dawn's pussy, none of the girls in my class have any hair around their holes..." Peter's hands rubbed down over my ribs to my panties, his fingers were now rubbing over my pussy mound, there was no mistaking the feeling of my hairs through the ultra-thin nylon of my knickers, a cheap imitation of silk, "...Their dance teacher told them that hairs around their cunts were unhealthy so the girls have been using cream to nuke every hair they see on their pussies since third grade, now, none of the girls can grow hair down there even if they want too..."

"The cream will have damaged the hair follicles; it shouldn't be used on girls that young!" I couldn't believe how matter-of-fact I was being, even the thickness in my voice was gone and my inner body quakes had gone.

"...I love to see hair on a cunt!"

As he said that he loved to see hairs on a girl's pussy he started sliding my knickers down. Peter's father was the only man I'd ever had sex with and that was always in a dark room and all he ever did was pull my knickers to one side and fuck me while we were both fully clothed in case someone turned up because we didn't have a safe place to fuck, we were always in garden sheds or barns, fucking wherever and whenever we could. Peter was the result of that one condom in fifty that fail to do its job. I was way out of my depth, no man had ever looked at my naked body before and apart from two rather over-elaborate nylon bracelets hanging from my wrists and a ridiculous bowtie under my chin I was about to be made naked by my own son.

He exposed my hairy pussy mound and then let his fingers play in the woods as he leaned in to kiss my breasts, his upper body was now low enough for him to push my knickers down past my knees and gravity took them the rest of the way to the ground to form a puddle of nylon around my ankles.

Peter tried to push my legs apart but my knickers were preventing my legs opening wide enough, "After I got Dawn to her orgasm with my fingers I managed to get the tip of my cock in her cunt before she chickened out and stopped me...so technically I'm still a virgin!"

I looked down for the first time, Peter's trousers were tented out by his eager young cock, he managed to get enough of his right hand between my legs to get a finger into my cunt, he seemed to know exactly how to masturbate a woman, bringing me pleasure from just a few flicks over my button before he went cave diving with two fingers. I didn't do it consciously but I realised that I'd lifted my left foot off of the floor and was trying to kick my knickers from around my ankle. Peter reached behind me and grabbed a hold of my left wrist with his 'Dry' hand, as my hand left the sink my dress fell from my wrist, he pulled my hand to the front of his trousers and rubbed it against his trouser covered cock.

I took over and unfastened his trousers and slipped my hand down the front of his underpants to get a feel of his cock, there was a flurry of activity and he was trying to nail me against the sink. I don't know if I came to my senses or what but as his cock rubbed along the gash leading to my cunt I pushed him away from me. He looked crestfallen, his cock dipped, almost instant deflation. I walked away from the sink, my dress dropped from my right wrist and onto the floor as I almost tripped over my knickers that were still around my ankle.

The little voice in my head said, 'It's Peter's birthday, you always gave him whatever he wanted if you could afford it and remember SEX costs nothing and it isn't even fattening...but it could be immoral in a situation like this.'

I'd reached the door from the kitchen and out into the hall, I looked over my shoulder and my eyes met Peter's, he looked totally devastated, I stopped just momentarily, totally naked, then I walked along the passageway to the front door forgetting that it was a six foot tall glass window looking out into the street and I was still totally naked, even my bowtie had fallen away, I turned the newel post at the bottom of the stairs as quickly as I could, Peter had reached the kitchen door, following me slowly with his cock slowly standing to attention.

He followed me to my bedroom door as I walked past the foot of my bed and slipped under the thin top sheet that was the only covering on my bed because of the summer heat. I lay watching as Peter stripped off completely. He walked into my bedroom and slipped in my bed next to me, I reached up to pull the light switch over my bed but Peter stopped me, "Please don't turn the light off, I want to look at you!"

I relaxed and settled down as he rubbed his hands all over my body, in just five minutes he explored every inch of my body before sliding his body over mine. He stabbed his cock wildly in the rough direction of my fanny, in the end I reached between us, 'It's his birthday, he should be allowed whatever he wants!' I reached between our bodies, took a firm grip of his cock and pointed it in the right direction. He sank up to his balls, I gasped at the sudden invasion of my cunt, unused for over thirteen years and then I revelled in the youth of the boy who went off like a firecracker into my body.

I have to admit to being disappointed at first as his body fell on top of mine gasping for air less than two minutes after insertion, even my first time, as disappointing as that occasion was, lasted more than two minutes. I reached up to the back of Peter's head and stroked my fingers through the hair on the back of his head. I was disappointed but then I felt something strange, his flaccid cock twitched and far from my cunt spitting the soft cock out he managed to keep it engaged and a second twitch led to a feeling of growth, a feeling of swelling and his hips rolled and his cock slid in and out of my cunt slowly, I reached my second orgasm before his cock was fully formed and then he went bouncing off again, fucking me like an out of control steam train. I was kept at my orgasmic peak for ten minutes before he climaxed for a second time and fell against my breasts, puffing and panting to get his breath back.

The lull went exactly the same way that the first one did and again he regained turgidity without his cock leaving my vagina and again, once hard he fucked like a rabbit on steroids. I'd taken three loads of cum in my pussy in the space of an hour and he was lining himself up for a fourth bite of the cherry. I pushed him away and his cock finally left my body, "We can't just keep going all night, I'm getting sore, anyway, you have school tomorrow and I have work in the morning so I need my sleep as you do too."

I gestured for Peter to go to bed in his own bedroom but he begged to spend the night in bed with me, "Okay, just because it's your birthday!"

I fell asleep with my thirteen year old son spooning me and growing yet another erection between his legs. I was woken at six o'clock in the morning, "Peter, what are you playing at, I still have thirty minutes before my alarm goes off."

"I know but I wanted to screw you again before my birthday night is officially over!"

"That happened six hours ago at midnight!"

"Please, just stretch it this one time, I really need..."

I relented and said, "Okay but I just need a quick pee first!"

I jumped out of bed, I was more sober now and felt very self-conscious at being naked in front of my son so I ran all the way to the bathroom for a quick pee. When I returned I had my right arm covering my breasts and my left hand over my flower garden. I slipped back into bed next to Peter, he was eager to cover my body again but I stopped him, "Last night happened because I was drunk, I was drunk and it was your birthday but after this time it must never happen again...okay?"

Peter grinned at me and shrugged his shoulders, "Never happen again until my next birthday!"

My fourth fuck with my son lasted the full thirty minutes until my alarm clock went off and then he built up speed and took himself over the edge. We both ended up having cereal for breakfast because he'd spent so long over fucking me that I didn't have time to cook breakfast. I'd said never again with Peter but as I drove into the office with his semen trickling from my pussy I knew that now I'd discovered just how good sex with my son could be I wouldn't be able to forego the pleasure until his next birthday, I just knew that deep down inside I'd have to come up with another excuse to fuck and it would have to be very soon!

8,011 Words.

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