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altruistic sexual mothering

I am a woman in my early thirties, still active and fit. Older boys, my son’s friends to be more precise, think of me as a MILF, and they are sixteen, on the cusp of manhood, no wonder I get wet in their presence.

Of course as a well balanced and sexually experienced woman, I keep those powerful sexual urges in my panties, but secretly, I do tease, just to encourage these thoughts of self denial, but hoping, deep down, I do give them thoughts as they lie in bed, and stroke their cocks.

Whenever there is a stay-over, I always check the bed-sheets for semen stains, a tell-tail sign my naughtiness is getting through, and a mental note of the boy concerned, to be seduced and lured into another wanking frenzy.

As you can see women do have sexual fantasies with their offspring’s friends, all innocent enough of course, and purely accidental, if anything is seen, that way it’s down to spying on their part, and not indecent exposure on my own part.

I have always had this urge with young men. I think it stems from my own c***dhood of seeing grown men wanting to show me their erections, and as silly as it may sound, I was the girl who wanted to watch, and those visual images, were used during my own fingering sessions. By eight, I had learnt how to insert my fingers into my ‘Kitty’, as my father named it, and by nine, I would hold a carrot inside and squeeze down on it, as I rubbed around outside.

By the time my eleventh birthday came around, I had shaped many phallic vegetables into penises and put them into daddies condoms, and carried them to school, stopping on the hillside, where I undressed and relieved myself, before first assembly.

When is a c***d a sex addict?

You guess is as good as mine which was a good as the doctor, who gave me therapy, which ended up with me losing my virginity to a cock, and many other debauched episodes, his wife would never submit to. Who better than a girl willing to please, younger, fresher, firmer, and pretty, me.

Having exhausted countless boyfriends and married men, I needed something I could relate to mentally, as sex always begins in the mind, and the older you become, the more fucked-up your mind can become, especially when your cock supply dries up, thanks to a divorce.

But having a son is a blessing, just as men having daughters excites them and gives them an unforeseen opportunity to discover their youthful encounters all over again, accidental or not.

I awoke to the sun steaming in my open windows. I had gone to bed late and in a state, obviously undressed with the curtains open, I could only pray I left the light off.

I got out of bed and sat on the edge off the mattress, feeling woozy from the after effects of the wine, and the joints. I got up and went to my room door and walked out into the carpeted hallway, and softly padded my way down towards the toilet.

My sons door was ajar and just past the toilet door, as I approached, I heard the unmistakable sounds of his physical exertions, he was wanking, so instead of going into the bathroom, I went past it and stood by his.

All of this was happening before I realised I was completely naked, and I froze, then thawed, bit by bit, listening to my son being a man.

‘What was he thinking about as he did it’? These thoughts were very normal for women being turned by sex and sexual innuendo, as we focus on our part.

I had a sudden urge, like I did all those years ago to watch him, and as I eased up to the door crack, my heart was suddenly pounding, my nipples ached to be touched, and were sticking out with desire. It had been a long time since I was so close to another human being with such a sexual arousal, and as my eyes fell on my son, lying on top and naked, I became afraid of my own feelings.

My heart was having slight palpitations, my lips and mouth were suddenly dry, whereas my other lips, my labia, were open and wet, I was in a severe state of sexual arousal, and I found myself sinking to my knees and adopting a ‘Doggy’, with my own hand reached between my thighs, as my eyes watched my son.

I never heard him emerge from the toilet, I was still in a high from the joints I smoked, and now I was immersed in the strangest and most wonderful self sexual relief, on my hands and knees.

When my hand touched him, I froze, stifling my natural reaction to scream, I did not, as my adrenaline rush cleared my head, and gave me the flight or fight reaction, but even that was too slow, his cock just went all the way up inside my pussy, and he was on his third stroke by the time I had melted and pushed back onto him.

It was Danny, my son’s friend, younger still, but by then it was too late. Just feeling his cock move around inside me, made my grunt like a sow in heat.

Danny was a boy I was familiar with, he was a wanker who’s sheets I had washed on his many stay-overs, and last night I had been singling him out for special treatment, teasing him, and now, he was inside me feeling my heart pound down on his cock head, gripping my breasts and tugging on my nipples, and no doubt looking down on my pink crinkled anus puckering to his exertions, there was nothing left to see of me, Danny was now experiencing the ultimate, and I was actually enjoying being fucked by jail bait.

Thoughts of my son were gone as we fucked, my body had taken over my senses, as I gave him complete freedoms to satisfy his curiosity about adult women when they are being fucked.

The one trait most of us have is closing our eyes and concentrating on the cock inside us, moving in and out, as we mesh it to the dirtier thoughts cascading through our feminine minds of other men, doing the deed.

My son’s feet were under my nose when I opened my eyes, he was standing, looking down as I was doggy fucked by his friend, but what shocked me momentarily was that he was still wanking himself, and saying stuff like, ‘Fuck her Danny, fuck her harder’.

Those words coming from my son’s mouth tipped me over the edge, and my orgasm was one of the loudest and deepest I had ever experienced, my answer was answered, I was being fucked the way I craved, no wonder it was i*****l, it was a d**g induced barrier that was broken.

What happened next was of course unprintable, another i*****l experience, but it happened just the same, a sacrifice every mother has probably encountered and never spoke about, I know we never recalled it, but continued to do it.

Danny has long gone from our lives, but I have his ‘Cherry’ carved onto my head-board. My son has a darling girlfriend, tall beautiful, and bi-sexual, and now I can see why men like us that age, my son’s at collage now, as I turn in my bed and take hold of her, this is my first time with a girl, I hope she will remind of two people in my life, myself at her age, and of course Danny, my sex toy-boy.

Updated: October 21, 2016 — 1:28 pm

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