“Mom!? Are you okay? You’re flushed! Your face is all red! Do I need to call a doctor?”
This was Smalltown, USA. You didn’t call 9-1-1. You called the doctor. There were only four doctors in town. No ambulances except for the county service, and that sometimes took hours. No, you called the doctor, and he came to your house.
I knew what was wrong and the last thing I needed was for my doctor to see just how soaked my panties were. I was struggling to compose myself. My sexual identity had just woken up. Hard. And I was so ashamed for the reason why.
I had to give him a reason to relax. I could see his girlfriend looking at me in a strange way and, at the moment, I was certain she understood what was going on with me. My cheeks burned hot. She knows. She knows I’m having sexual desires for my son. I was disgusting. Immoral. Sinful.
Oh my God, I thought, I need to get away for a moment. I need to calm myself.
Desmond was staring intently into my eyes, looking for something. I could see his worry, and I nodded at him and straightened. The whole incident had taken mere seconds. I straightened my skirt and smiled.
“Hot flashes, I think,” I said and forced a little laugh, although I was nowhere near menopause. “It will pass. Desmond, please introduce me.”
Desmond looked at me for a longer moment, and then his eyes went to his hand around my arm. He could feel his fingers pressing into my breast, and he let go like he had been branded. He wiped his hand on his jeans and turned to his girlfriend. That little action made me sad, for some reason.
“Mom, this is Leanne. Leanne, meet my mom.”
Leanne smiled, and her face lit up with it. She was beautiful, and I was immediately struck by how proud I was for my son landing a girl like her. Oh, right, she looks like me and I’m suddenly a narcissistic bitch. “Hi, Mrs. Smith, nice to meet you?”
She spoke strangely. “Miss Smith, Leanne. Desmond and I took my maiden name after the divorce. But please, call me Jessica. And come in! Get out of the doorway. Come inside. I have a small starter for us to enjoy while we acquaint ourselves. Leave your shoes on. It’s fine. I just need a moment. I’m so sorry. Desmond, why don’t you take Leanne into the kitchen? I’ll be right there, okay?”
Desmond nodded and led Leanne deeper into our small home.
I ran up the small set of stairs leading up to the bedrooms and went into our only bathroom. I was desperate. I went over to the toilet, turned my ass to it, pulled my panties down, noting just how damp they were, sat and did something I hadn’t done in over a decade. I pleasured myself.
I pushed through my thick unruly bush and found my labia slick and thick and plunged two fingers into my vagina to wet them, and then found my clitoris, hard and exposed, and rubbed it furiously. I came in seconds. It had been so long since I had last orgasmed. The feeling washed over me in waves that built and built. I had forgotten the feeling. The euphoria. The bliss. I came hard. Grunting, keeping my voice from screaming. My pussy vibrated, and I felt the orgasm reach a peak. It was too much. Too much pleasure. I imagined my son standing before me, me on my knees, his cock thrusting obscenely at me. Rigid, hard, pulsing with his heartbeat, the head engorged, swollen, veins thick and protruding. My son and his cock. Wanting me. Needing me. Then I imagined Leanne, my doppelgänger, licking me. Eating me, my son behind her, fucking her so hard her ass would ripple and undulate.
I exploded and my pussy clamped hard, almost painfully. I heard water hitting the water in the toilet and looked down as the orgasm clenched me hard again. A small amount of liquid gushed from my vagina, and I moaned. I had never done that before. Never. I kept rubbing my clitoris as the orgasm went on and on. This was a first for me. I had orgasmed before with my husband, but never like this. It was too powerful. Too strong. I rode it feeling like I was riding a wave. The thoughts of a woman pleasuring me had been my surprising undoing. I had never had those thoughts before, and those images coupled with my son… Behind me towered a massive wave and it frightened and excited me. I rubbed harder and then the wave crashed down on me. I was lost, tumbling in the surf, I was biting down on my left hand, holding back the primal scream.
I don’t know how long the orgasm lasted. It was a series of them. One after the other. Slowly, it faded, and I released my fingers from my clit. My left hand hurt, and I pulled it from my mouth and teeth. Deep grooves from my teeth marked my hand. I had almost broken the skin. I panted and then shook as another minor orgasm wafted through me. I heard dripping and looked down between my legs. My pussy was dripping. Actually dripping.
Oh my God, I thought. That was too much. Too much.
I caught a drip in my hand and raised it to my mouth and licked it away. I had done it so quickly that I froze. What have I just done?
I smacked my lips and savored the taste. It was a unique taste. Wonderful. Intoxicating. I swiped my hand through my pussy and then lifted my hand to my face and smelled it. My mouth watered, and I licked my fingers. The slick liquid was stronger tasting now. Jesus, I thought, I taste wonderful. How would another woman taste? The same?