I guess I should have known.
Moving with my son and daughter to a sparsely-populated village a hundred miles from nowhere meant adjustments. It had to do with my work, mostly, but whatever the reason, we lived some distance from the nearest town, a tiny place with just the barest of services. The k**s made friends enough among their classmates and dated on and off, but the isolation was inescapable.
Then came that day that left me shocked and sickened beyond belief--the day that I got home unexpectedly and heard the undeniable sounds of passion from Brian's room. For a few moments I assumed it was a girlfriend and just smiled--I never had any problem with their sex lives, especially since they were legally adults--but then I recognized the voice of his partner as Kimmy's. Even through the closed door, it was unquestionable.
The shock was unbearable, and the wave of rage that followed almost uncontrollable. Strangely, it was that very anger that moderated my reaction, because it was so strong that it reached a voice of reason inside, what little remained, that told me I was too angry to be rational, and that I should cool down before confronting them. With great difficulty I tore myself away from the door and left the house quietly, driving away to find a place to think. I learned afterward that either I drove silently or they were too absorbed to notice, and never heard me.
Once in the car I dissolved in tears, barely managing to drive to a place to be alone, not that there was any trouble finding one in this wilderness. Before long I had quieted down, but now felt drained and weak, too much so to deal with the k**s. I waited a while longer, until it was more of the time I would be expected home, then returned. The k**s greeted me from their rooms down the hallway and I managed to return the greeting hollowly before taking refuge in my room.
Hours turned to days, and then weeks, and I still never found the strength and clear-headedness to take on the issue of what had happened. I was strangely torn between the wish to spy on them and find out just how frequent their taboo sex happened, even hoping maybe it was a one-time fluke, though I knew better deep down, and the wish to deny it all. I decided I really didn't want a reminder and stayed away, for a long time.
A few months passed during which I never felt up to the idea of a confrontation, until the day came when I discovered that I was now all but resigned to their activities, seeing them as just what I'd always deemed to be proper sex, and that, as adults, they were free to do as they liked. I might as well get used to it. I was pretty sure that if I were to confront them, they would probably be concerned for my feelings but nonetheless unwilling to give up their relationship. All I could see was a strained discussion, maybe angry, maybe just sad, but them trying to get me to come to terms with it, but not changing their own ways.
I had always counseled the k**s to be unashamed of their sexuality, and to approach it confidently and yet respectfully of their partners, whoever they may be. The message had generally been that what consenting adults of sound mind freely choose to do, what doesn't violate trust or harm others, may be taken as OK. I never thought I'd have to make an exception, explicitly, about it being with each other.
As time went on, subtle hints now and then that I would never have recognized if it weren't for what I had found out, told me that they were still at it, regularly. With time it became less and less horrible in my mind. They still dated on and off, and I suppose their own liaisons were suspended when they were (I was right about that, I learned later), but I saw less and less harm in it. I began reasoning--perhaps some might call it rationalizing--but whatever you call it, I started thinking that all those reasons why societies frown on that kind of thing might have good reasons in general, but that there were exceptions to everything. I could mull over those reasons and none of them seemed to apply, or apply very much, anyway, to Brian and Kimmy. Was my thinking really changing, or was I just dodging the daunting task of confronting them?
Strangely, inexplicably, over time I was getting a feeling that I suspected must be something like the way the k**s must feel about what they were doing. I found myself slipping into a fantasy of seeing it through Kimmy's eyes, surrendering to the handsome, strapping young man I was proud to call my son. I suppose I should have felt alarmed at this shift of thought, but instead the relief after all that time of stress was almost total now, with all that distress faded away.
One evening I decided to retire early. I had taken off my jeans and blouse and was checking myself out in the standing mirror in the corner of the room--not too bad for thirty-eight if I do say so myself--when I heard my son's footsteps on the stair. I quickly strode over to the door to close it, but halfway across the room some strange f***e stopped me. A wicked, unbelievable thought penetrated my mind that turned me back. I returned to the mirror and quickly arranged it and my stance so that it would reflect me from about the neck down, but not my face. I resumed by rather self-indulgent examination, but listened carefully to the footsteps. When they stopped short of Brian's room I knew he was looking. No doubt he had merely glanced in to greet me, never expecting me to be half-undressed, particularly in a sheer black bra and matching panties. I felt my suddenly-hardening nipples strain their way through the light fabric as if shouting for attention, and I knew from the way I was positioned that he had a clear view of all of me but my face, knowing I could not see him, as he saw me with my ass facing him and my breasts and my rich, full bush showing through the wispy panties. I knew that the sight would make a point of how exposed I was, and I was glad for the moment that I didn't shave there.
I continued to primp, pretending now, really putting on a little show. I soon heard the footsteps resume, very quietly this time, and then heard the bathroom door open almost close. He was peeking through it, I could tell, and I found myself exulting in the exotic taste of taboo! How strange it felt, how exciting to know that my son was willing, perhaps eager, to witness my body half-revealed! I meant to stop there, but I was too far gone now. Trying to keep a casual manner, I reached behind me and unclasped my bra. I could swear I heard a stifled gasp from the direction of the bathroom, and hoped I wasn't imagining it, because it was sweet and warm and drove me higher. I had to go through with it now. With a little hesitation this time--it was such a big step--I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my panties and started pulling down. The hesitation was natural, but I knew it was also seductive, an almost involuntary striptease that I hoped would turn my son on even more.
I took a good, long time, alternating between looking in the mirror and rummaging randomly through my dresser drawer just to keep things looking natural, before slowly turning toward the door, making sure Brian had plenty of time to close the bathroom door before I would have to acknowledge his presence. The very soft contact of wood on wood confirmed my expectation as Brian did his best to close the door silently, but couldn't quite manage.
I was rushing wet, heart beating as if it would burst from my chest. I wanted to close my door and collapse to the bed to relieve my tension, but I had to do one more thing. I crept out of the room and silently clasped my ear to the bathroom door. I heard what I had hoped for: my son's heavy breathing, rhymically waxing and waning. He was masturbating--masturbating for me! The thrill was beyond description. I returned to my room, closed the door, and was soon doing my own version of what he was doing, finding release and peace in the action.
It was some time in the late evening that I, dressed discreetly in my robe, encountered Brian in the kitchen doing as young men do half their lives: making a snack. I was eager to see his reaction the first time he saw me. I wasn't disappointed. He seemed to be looking away, not ashamed, but as if to do all he could to suppress the appearance of staring. I even managed to get a small and distorted glance at him in the polished surface of a coffee pot as I leaned forward into the opened refrigerator to take out some milk and brownies. As I turned to the table where Brian sat, my loosely tied robe--no accident--fell open. My hands were occupied so I couldn't do anything about it.
"Whoops!" I said. My voice quavered a bit, which I hoped he'd take as nervousness and not the excitement I really felt. I was wearing some rather discreet panties now, but no bra, and I knew my breasts were only lightly veiled by my sheer nightgown. Brian looked away, hiding his having noticed at all, but not before getting a good stare in spite of himself. As he glanced from the corner of his eye, he must have wondered why I didn't seem very concerned and was in no hurry to pull the robe closed after I had set down my load and freed my hands to do so.
"Did you like them?" I said, looking at at the brownies, chuckling inside at the. I heard an ill-suppressed snort as he, believing it was purely my accident, tried to avoid calling attention to it.
"Sure, Mom," he replied. "I had a few...er...yeah, this afternoon. They're pretty good." He picked one up and studied it carefully, trying to avert his gaze. He seemed delightfully inarticulate.
I felt giddy, out of control. I couldn't let it end there.
"I need to get the crock pot down."
"I'll get it for you, Mom." I quickly stopped him.
"Don't bother, dear, I'll get it myself."
"Sure Mom," he replied. I was closer to the place the pot was stored, and I strode over to the little kick-step that I used to reach places too high to reach without it. Brian seemed surprised I hadn't just expected him to get it down himself. I stood on the step, quickly opening the cupboard door, knowing that way it would shield my face, but nothing below the neck. I reached up for the crock pot, and again, the loosely tied robe slid open, revealing my breasts through the sheer nightie. Brian couldn't see me, so I couldn't see him; there was no reason for him to avert his gaze. To him I appeared unaware of my exposure to his eyes. as I took my time pretending to fumble with the pot, reveling in the knowledge that my son was studying my breasts, enjoying the profile of their curvature and my eagerly prominent nipples, probably wondering how I didn't realize what was happening.
After a while I retrieved the pot and rather quickly descended the step, hoping to catch him before he could change his view. I was thrilled to see a kind of dazed, bemused look on his face as he struggled to turn away, but with much more difficulty this time. Keeping with the game I glanced down as if only then noticing my exposure.
"Whoops again!" I said, lightly, laughing.
"It's OK, Mom," Brian said, still inarticulate-sounding. I unhurriedly walked back over to him and handed him the pot, doing nothing to close my robe until he had put it down. My unconcerned manner left him unconcerned as well, and now he looked freely, only managing not to obviously stare. I was in heaven. I wondered if he took my openness as a sign I knew about him and Kimmy, but I didn't care. I had all but completely revealed my breasts to my son's eager eyes, up close and easily, and he knew it.
Hours and days passed, and I knew I had to find more ways to show off like that. I had no intention to tease or frustrate him, but I couldn't go back to the old ways either. Some of them suggested themselves. Once I was drying off after a shower and had left the door open to clear the steam when I heard those footsteps again. Again I refrained from closing the door; instead I turned by back to it, humming a song and drying off, noting with pleasure that the footsteps had ceased somewhere just across the darkened hall, luxuriating in the feeling of toweling off with such a handsome and bemused audience. That scene repeated more and more often, and I knew that Brian was making a point of walking by when he knew I'd be there calmly standing nude and free. One day I had the idea of secreting a small mirror next to the cabinet and saw with delight his face, hidden as well as he could manage in shadow, taking in the view. I could even plainly a full bulge in his jeans, and that happened every time. I could hardly contain the excitement that grew more and more on each occasion.
It was now late on a Saturday morning.
"Try this on, Mom," Kimmy said, handing a stylish blouse to me. We had been out shopping and were enjoying trying on our purchases, the more so as we were close enough in size that we could both enjoy everything. I put it on and primped with pleasure. I then removed it and handed it back.
"Here you go," she said, handing me a bra in a powerful come-hither style. It was sheer too, but with a style and decoration that was clearly meant as more than just a foundation. In peek-a-boo style, it revealed just what needed to be revealed to signal a woman's eagerness to get her man's attention--thence to take it back off for his eager eyes--and hands. I tried it on, enjoying the sight in the mirror, exulting in the sensuous feeling, when suddenly Kimmy spoke.
"Come on in; you'll like it," she said, and before I could blink, Brian was in the room. I flinched, automatically. She laughed, and Brian grinned as well.
"Aw, Mom, don't think we don't know what you've been up to," she said as Brian's grin widened. I nodded sheepishly, glancing away, embarrassed by my own embarrassment, then laughed and straightened up, now standing proudly in that sexy, seductive bra, looking right at Brian as I arched my back to thrust my breasts forward for his pleasure.
"No, don't be shy. It's OK, really," Kimmy said. "I guess you know about us; that's why you're OK with this. Right?"
"Yes, it is," I replied, turning back to them. "But really, I have to tell you, I was never so angry and hurt in my whole life when I found out."
Their eyes dropped, crestfallen, at this.
"No, no, no need for that now," I quickly continued, and watched them perk back up. "That's ancient history now. I'm actually glad I was so angry, because it made me want to take time to cool off before confronting you. After that I kept putting it off until I realized that I didn't mind any more, and then it all started getting kind of--exciting--for me."
They clapped their hands in delight.
"When did you catch on...about my little exhibitionism, I mean?" I asked.
"Almost right away, Mom, that night in the kitchen. At first I wasn't sure if you really did stand on that step just so I could watch your breasts, but when you came down and didn't seem to mind, I saw no question. Ever since then you've been finding little ways to show and tease..."
"I hope you know I wasn't trying to get you frustrated, dear," I interrupted. He laughed. They both did, in fact.
"Don't worry about that one bit. It's different with you, you know. Every bit was pure pleasure."
I relaxed then. I had never been totally sure.
"I admit that it was a real turn-on for me, in fact...just about every time I knew you'd been watching, I had to go by myself afterward and relieve my tension, if you know what I mean."
"I know, I know," he replied. "I often had to do the same. In fact, for most of those times that I didn't, it's because my sexy s****r..." He paused to dr**e his arm over her shoulder, letting his hand fall to her breast. "...who was on to you as well, would take care of me."
"We took care of each other," Kimmy interjected quickly. "It turned us both on to see you opening up like that."
Kimmy had been working her way behind me as she spoke. Then, rather suddenly, I felt her fingers on the clasp of the bra, and before I knew it, the wispy thing was on the bed beside us. I didn't flinch a bit this time. Brian smiled as widely as I'd ever seen him smile, and as he spoke, the quavering in his voice bespoke his arousal.
"You know, Mom, in all of this time I've never seen you from the front without you wearing something. The sheer nighties and that bra do wonders, but they are meant to hint at what lies within. This is the first time I've been able to see those breasts right out in the open."
"I never realized what a thrill it would be to get them out in the open like this for you," I replied, my own voice starting to match his, my body automatically moving in little twists and turns, instinctively doing my best to use my breasts to full advantage for his pleasure. When Kimmy then reached around me and started unzipping my jeans I was not apprehensive; I was eager. She pulled them down, but left on my panties--the same ones that I had been wearing that first time I gave him a show, the sheer ones that just barely let my dark bush show through.
In a moment Kimmy and Brian were undressing each other before my rapt gaze. They looked at me frequently, as if they had trouble believing that their mom could be watching them with excitement instead of disapproval.
This is the end of part 1, of 2. The story runs rather long; if response is good to this part, I'll post the conclusion shortly.