Naughty Boy - Victoria Blackstone - E-Book

Naughty Boy E-Book

Victoria Blackstone

5,99 €


For some women, the nurturing extends no further than tending to a skinned knee, or to sopping up the occasional bloody nose. For others, though, there really is no limit. For them, no nothing is taboo.

I have intuition that comes only with age and experience. And if there’s one thing I know, with absolute certainty, it’s that once he gets a taste of his momma’s pussy, and I don’t mean a stolen taste, his face pressed to my panties, I don’t mean licking a bit of my honey off my fingers. I mean a real taste, where his face is wet with my juices, where my taste is on the back of his tongue, my scent filling his head... Once he has that experience, no other woman will ever truly satisfy him. And whether I’m willing to admit it or not, that is my ultimate goal.

I want him to desire me above all others. I want him to come to me when he can’t be satisfied. I want him to want me so badly that he’ll fantasize about me on his wedding night, while he’s laying between his bride’s legs. While he’s pushing up into her, grunting through his orgasm, I want him thinking about me, fantasizing it’s me he’s making love to.

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by Victoria Blackstone

Boys Need Their Mothers No.1

Published by Lot’s Cave

Boys Need Their Mothers No.1

Naughty Boy, © 2021, by Victoria Blackstone

All Rights Reserved

Cover by Lot’s Cave

All Characters In This Book Are Age 18 Or Older

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the Lot’s Cave website and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Lot’s Cave Novel


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10



Author’s Note

Family Exotica

Incest Erotica

Other Novels

Chapter 1

“Bobby...” I uttered, groaning. Of my two sons, I knew instinctively that it was my youngest who’d been rummaging through my hamper. At just shy of sixteen, he’s a year and a half younger than Ricky. But where his older brother is outgoing and extroverted, Bobby is quiet and shy. He’s the very definition of a momma’s boy, spending most of his free time at home, either in my company or in his room, reading or doing homework or playing video games. Or masturbating, I thought, a small smile pulling my lips.

This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed my underwear missing. That had been about two months ago. No, this is the first time I’ve actually tested my theory, proved to myself that I’m not imagining it.

Normally, I cover my bras and panties with a blouse or a pair of slacks, whatever I happen to be wearing. Call it a quirk, but I have this thing about opening the lid on my hamper, only to find a damp crotch staring up at me. Last night, though, after stripping for my shower, I’d done something different, broken my rule; I’d tossed my panties atop my other clothes. This morning, however, they were missing.

Unbidden, the image of him, lying back on his bed, formed in my mind’s eye, my panties pressed to his nose, his insatiable teenaged cock in his hand as he stroked it.

I shook my head, banishing the naughty vignette as I reached for the hamper. That I needed to say something to him wasn’t the question; the question was, what to say, how to approach him.

Like any teenager, his hormones are raging, and the poor thing seems to be hard from the time he wakes until the time he goes to sleep. I wouldn’t be surprised if his penis doesn’t tease him all day long, at school. Yes, for years now, I’ve been catching glimpses of his growing boyhood, bulging out the front of his clothes.

As I began to load the washer, I puzzled over where, exactly he’s been ejaculating, for I know it isn’t in my panties; I haven’t seen so much as a trace of his dried semen in them, which, incidentally, is how I know he’s sniffing them. I pictured him lying in bed, my panties pressed to his nose. “Bad girl,” I muttered.

I started the washer, then headed for Bobby’s room. I heard the shower start across the hall, as I approached. His brother is autonomous, needing no prompting to get up in the morning. Bobby, on the other hand... I entered quietly and stopped beside his bed. He looked so peaceful, so innocent and beautiful. “So perfect,” I whispered. My heart fluttered at the thought that this sweet, charming boy had come from inside of me. I made him!

Okay, so it was my husband and I, but still...

I reached out to trace his brow with a fingertip, my touch soft, then down the slope of his nose and across his lips and over his chin and down his throat. The late summer heat had caused him to push the sheet and blanket down past his waist, leaving his chest and stomach and upper thighs uncovered. I drew a finger over his chest, describing little designs on his soft, warm skin. And when I could no longer resist the pull, I allowed my gaze to roam over his stomach and to the bulging tent in his briefs. Such a waste, I thought, my fingertip teasing his belly button.

I shook my head, my eyes closing as I pulled my hand away, as I silently chastised myself for my un-motherly thoughts.

I blew out a slow breath, even as I reached out to cup his cheek, caressing it with my thumb. “Gotta stop stealing your momma’s panties, baby boy.”

I took and released another breath, then leaned over him to press my lips to his forehead and then his eyes, first one and then the other. I kissed his nose and then his lips before pulling away. And still he slept.

I leaned over again. “Wake up, baby boy,” I whispered, my breath in his ear.

Still nothing.

My stomach fluttered even as the next words formed in my mind, as they slipped from my lips. “Wake up, my naughty boy.”

I kissed him, just below his ear. “Come on, sweetie, time to get up.” I nibbled on his earlobe, pulling gently on it, and finally got a response in the form of a quiet moan. I kissed his temple, then the corner of his eye, and then his nose.

His lips were now curved up into an adorable little smile, and I couldn’t resist pressing my lips to his neck, kissing him over and over until he was laughing.

“Okay, I’m awake,” he pouted.

I cupped his cheek. “Rise and shine, handsome.”

He rolled onto his side, frowning as his gaze made a slow trip across my chest. It lingered there a moment before his eyes closed.

He’s been stealing glances at me for a long time, two years maybe. But for about the past couple months—for about as long as he’s been absconding with my panties—he’s been getting more and more bold. Where before he’d steal quick peeks, lately he’s been openly staring; at my legs, at my feet, my breasts... And though I knew I needed to discourage him, I couldn’t bring myself to confront him. And not because I’m too timid or too embarrassed. No, if I’m totally honest with myself, I’ll admit that it’s terribly thrilling to have him so interested, so curious. I mean, what mother can honestly say that having her own son interested in her is off-putting? What honest woman can actually claim to be repulsed by having the most perfect male of the species sexually interested in her? The thought seems absurd. And anyway, it’s harmless. I mean, what could it hurt for him to look?

“You have the prettiest smile.”

My heart fluttered, my smile growing as I shook my head. “You say the sweetest things,” I said, tracing his ear with a fingertip.

He smiled, shy, his gaze drifting down, lingering, and I wondered if he could actually see through my nightie. It’s powder blue cotton, and fairly thin. Oh, I know that back-lit, it’s all but see-through, but was the light coming through the drawn curtains sufficient illumination to render it transparent enough for him to actually see anything?

Feeling naughty, I lifted my arms above my head, stretching, yawning, head tilted back. A small squeak slipped from my lips as I twisted my back. I lowered my arms, my eyes coming open to see his dart away. I shook my head, a playful smile pulling my lips as I tapped the tip of his nose. “Come on, lazy bones, I’ll go start breakfast.”

Here and there, throughout the day, he’d entered my thoughts, and as it drew closer to the time he was due home, I grew more and more restless, distracted by the teasing itch in my panties. Finally, unable to resist the pull any longer, I retreated to my room to curl up on my bed. I smoothed my hand over the soft cotton of my dress, past the hem, then drew it back up, my fingers gliding gently over my skin. I shifted my leg to make room, my dress pooling at the tops of my thighs as I pushed my palm against the top of my mound, curling my fingers to cup my sex, already hot to the touch. I pulled upward, my middle finger sinking between my lips, tucking the silk into my heat, making me moan.

I conjured the image of my husband, lying with me, his fingers teasing me, working me into a lather, exciting me, but as I continued to tease myself, the image transformed, Bobby taking his father’s place. In my fantasy, he reached into my hamper, looking for my panties. He brought them up to his nose, his eyes closing as he took in one deep breath after another, breathing in his momma’s hot, excited scent as his penis throbbed before him, big and thick and oh, so delicious-looking.

I groaned, while pulling my hand from between my legs. My eyes came open, my gaze landing on my night stand, on the drawer that held my favorite toy, the one I knew would take me to where I needed to go, and quickly. I released another groan as I rolled over and crawled to the edge of the bed.

Call me old fashioned, but my favorite toy, my only toy, actually, is a regular old vibrator, an off-white, cylindrical plastic tube full of ‘C’ batteries, the tip of which curved up to a gently rounded point, one that had gotten me off more times than I could count. Well, for full disclosure, it’s my fifth or sixth such toy, the previous models having given up the ghost, after many hours of pleasure.

I got comfortable, then twisted the serrated dial at the base. The resulting low hum sent a shiver of anticipation through me, and I pressed the thing against my lower belly, moaned as the vibrations traveled through me, my hips moving in response, my thighs opening all on their own.

Ordinarily, I’d remove my panties, both to keep them from getting soggy and to allow the cool plastic direct contact with my vulva. Without my panties in the way, there would be nothing to stop me from teasing the smooth tip into the wet mouth of my vagina, then shoving it in when the moment came. Today, though, I kept my panties in place, trying desperately not to acknowledge the fact that I had a naughty motive for doing so. And whether I wanted to admit it then or not, I did have a motive.

I moaned, biting my lip as I pushed the thing down over my mound and into the furrow of my labia. My hips came up as I pulled the toy hard against my clit. I rolled my hips, my thighs opening wider as I slid the thing further along my crease, teasing, my clit complaining, hardening, aching for more attention.

I forced Bobby’s handsome face from my mind’s eye, replacing it with my husband’s, but no matter how many times I pushed him from my thoughts, my imagination, fertile and naughty, kept bringing my son back to me; his beautiful face, his gorgeous little ass, his constantly erect penis... I came, my back arching, toes curling as the low hum of my toy sent little bolts of electricity shooting up and down my spine as I held it tight to my slit, squishing my clit, my walls clasping rhythmically, trying desperately to reach through the silk barrier, now wet with my orgasm.

Still riding the wave, I twisted the dial and the room fell silent, save for my long, soft moan as I glided down the slope, my muscles relaxing. I lay there for several long minutes, the occasional tremor coursing through me. I knew, though, that it wouldn’t be long before Bobby got home, and I didn’t want to be hidden away in my room when he arrived. I wanted to greet him the way a good mother should, with a kiss and a hug and a warm smile. More than anything, I want him to look back on his childhood with the fondest of memories. Long after I’m gone, I want him to smile when he thinks of me.

I curled up on the sofa to wait for him. I woke to him rubbing my arm, his touch gentle, and I smiled up at him. “Hi, sweetie, how was your day?”

He made a face, then shrugged, a smile forming. “Linda Zuniga smiled at me.”


He nodded, his gaze dropping, lingering in my cleavage for a moment before coming back up, the cutest smile pulling his lips. I laughed softly. “Go change, then come back and tell me all about it.”


I laid there another couple moments before getting up. I needed to pee and I wanted to brush my teeth. Sleep has the rather unappealing side-effect of a stinky mouth, but I pride myself on always having fresh breath.

I returned to the front room and reclaimed my spot against the arm of the sofa, feet tucked up under me, and as I waited for him, I wondered if he’d picked up on my scent, for as I sat there waiting, it was all I could concentrate on. It all but permeated the air around me.

I followed him with my eyes as he entered, and smiled at him as sank down to the floor before me, his forearms on the edge of the cushion, touching my calf. He pressed his lips to my knee and left them there as he stared up at me. I reached out and pushed the hair off his forehead, then I returned my gaze to his, holding it as the intimate moment stretched on.

He took a deep breath, his eyes closing, and I knew that he’d just picked up on my scent. The thought made my stomach flutter. His eyes came open and he exhaled. I drew a trembling fingertip down his nose, then began to caress his temple with my thumb. “Tell me who Linda is, and why she smiled at you.”

“You have the prettiest eyes,” he said, his voice barely reaching me.

His words made my heart soar. I shook my head. “Such a beautiful boy.”

He smiled, and again the intimate moment dragged on. Eventually, though, his gaze left mine, only to slip down into my cleavage. I tapped the tip of his nose to get his attention. He looked embarrassed, only holding my gaze for a moment before looking away.

“What made her smile at you?”

He shrugged, his eyes focused on my stomach.


He brought his gaze up.

“Thought you said I had the prettiest eyes?”

He smiled, shy. “You do.”

I drew the tip of my finger over a brow. “Well, I happen to think you have the prettiest eyes, and when we’re talking I want your eyes on mine.”

But he looked away, and it was obvious to me he was trying desperately not to run from the room. He was distracted and nervous. I pushed my fingers into his hair and curled them, squeezing, pulling his hair. His eyes closed as a soft moan escaped him. I moved to a new spot and closed my fingers into another tuft, pulling gently at first, then firmer, only letting up when he groaned. It always amazes me how quickly and completely I can calm him this way. In my softest voice, I said, “Let me see your eyes, baby boy.”

They opened slowly, focusing on mine, holding there, steady and open. I broke the silence nearly a full minute later. “They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Have you ever heard that?”

He nodded. I said, “You have the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen.” I ran my fingers through the hair at his temple. His smile grew with my words but he remained silent, his gaze steady on mine. “This girl, what does she look like?”

“She has long, dark hair, with bangs,” he said, holding a finger to his forehead.

“And does she have pretty eyes, like your momma?”

His gaze dropped and I allowed him a few moments indulgence before waving a finger at him. “Concentrate, Bobby.”

He took and released a deep breath. “You always smell so nice.”

Maybe so, but this is the first time he’s ever given me that particular compliment. I smiled. “I’m glad you think so, sweetie.” I returned my fingers to his hair and began to pull it, causing his eyelids to flutter. “Does she have pretty eyes, baby boy?”

His gaze sharpened and he nodded. “They’re really dark brown.”

“And she smiled at you?”

Again he nodded.

“What made her smile?”

“We were going into class at the same time. I let her go ahead of me.”

“Mm. Such a gentleman.”

He smiled, shy. Still, though, he held my gaze.

“Proud of you.”

Now, his gaze wandered back into my cleavage and I let out a slow breath, waiting patiently as his gaze moved lower. It looked as though he was willing my dress and bra transparent, and as he continued to stare, I could feel my nipples hardening, pushing against the thin satin cups. I knew, without looking down, that they’d now be visible. And in that moment, had he reached out to touch them, I’d have allowed it. I’d have pushed against his touch.

For nearly a full minute his gaze remained there, warming me, making me wonder what was going through his mind. Did he have me naked, in his mind’s eye? Did he have me stroking his hard, young cock? Or was he simply nursing at my breast, content to stare up into my eyes as he did.

“What are you thinking about?” I murmured, not wanting to break the spell.

His eyes came up then, for a moment only, then darted away. I called out to him and he met my gaze, looking terribly embarrassed. I drew a fingertip over his lips, making him smile. “Tell me, baby boy?”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head once.

“Never be afraid to talk to me, sweetheart. I’ll never judge you.”

His eyes came open then, focusing on mine, and for nearly a minute the silence stretched on. He parted his lips to speak, but didn't.

As much as I wanted to sit there with him, staring into his eyes forever, I had things to do. “Need to start dinner, sweetie. Wanna keep me company?”

He nodded. I tapped his nose. “Help me up.”

He stood, his gaze moving over my breasts to my lap, watching as I straightened my legs, likely hoping to see more of my thighs than my dress allowed. Later, I’d slip into my nightie, for now, I stood and wrapped my arms around him, my breasts pressed to his back as we made our way to the kitchen. I released him and he leaned against the counter while I went to work. “So, are you going to ask this girl out?” I said, breaking the silence.

He shrugged. “She probably has a boyfriend.”

“You could ask her...”

“I guess.”

I put the casserole in the oven, then moved to lean against the counter beside him. I draped my arm over his shoulder and pulled him to me. He surprised me, though, when he pushed off the counter, stepped between my legs, and wrapped his arms around me in a loving display of affection. I pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Love you, my sweet boy.”

“I love you too.”

I kept my lips pressed to him for the longest time, my eyes closed as I enjoyed the moment. Of the two of them, he is infinitely more affectionate.

Where Ricky is content with the occasional kiss on the cheek, Bobby is always looking for affection, always quick to hug his momma. He enjoys curling up with me to watch TV or just to talk, where Ricky is more apt to seek out his father for advice or for company.

He took a deep breath then let it out slowly, moving his cheek against my skin, nuzzling me. I laughed softly. “How long will you stay there, if I let you?”

“Ever,” he murmured, his breath warm on my neck.

“What about Linda?”

He shrugged, wiggling further into my embrace. And he stayed pressed up against me for the better part of twenty minutes, neither of us speaking, the only sign he was awake, the occasional sigh and the feel of his lips, so soft against my skin. But I needed to set the table and get the veggies ready. “Why don’t you go get started on your homework, while I finish with dinner.”

He nodded but made no move to leave my embrace. I squeezed him. “Go get started. Later tonight, you and I will cuddle up together, okay?”

This time he moved, slowly pulling away. He pressed a kiss to my cheek, then left without a word.

I’d just finished setting the table when I heard the garage door opening. A few moments later Ricky entered, followed by his father. Ricky had his backpack slung over one shoulder and his gym bag hanging from his other hand. He stopped before me, offering me his cheek. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart, how was practice?”

He shrugged. “It was okay. We had to do extra laps today. The camel jockey refused to dress out again.”

I gave him a look of disapproval. “Honey... please don’t talk like that.” I shifted my gaze to his father, and shook my head at the smirk on his face. “I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t encourage him.”

He shrugged, reminding me where our oldest son gets both his mannerisms and his looks from. “Kid needs to learn how things work in this country, how to be a team player.”

I nodded slowly. “Has it occurred to you that maybe he has no interest in sports?”

Again, he shrugged. “Regardless, it’s a requirement for graduation, and he needs to learn to fit in.”

“I get that, but that has nothing to do with you,” I said leveling a look of admonishment on Ricky. “And calling him names isn’t going to change anything. It just makes you look ignorant.”

James ruffled Ricky’s hair. “Get changed, ace... And no more name calling,” he called out after him.

“Thank you,” I said, tilting my head for a kiss, sighing when he wrapped his arms around me.

He passed his dark brown hair and brown eyes to Ricky, along with his tall, lanky frame. And though both boys have the same finely-sculpted lips, they got them from their momma. Interestingly, there isn’t much else they share in the way of looks. Bobby inherited his sandy blonde hair and blue eyes from me, and though he now has about two inches on my five feet, four inches, I hope, for his sake, that he gets at least some of his father’s height. But regardless whether he grows taller or not, Bobby is going to be an absolute hunk. Of course, in my eyes, he already is. The girls are already starting to chase him.

I sighed as I went in search of him, consciously forcing from my mind the notion that, one day, some young lady will take him from me. She’ll take him and make a home with him and have his babies.

I eased his door open and approached him from behind. I leaned over him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and nuzzled him. “Dinner,” I murmured.

“Did you know that the speed of light is one hundred and eighty-six thousand miles per second?”

“I think I remember that from school.” I kissed him just below his ear. “I love that science fascinates you.”

“It really does. I think I’d like to be an engineer, or maybe a physicist.”

“Well, my little rocket scientist, let’s start with something simple, like eating dinner while it’s still warm.”

He laughed softly, while rubbing his cheek against mine. “Kay.”

I waited until he stood, then wrapped my arms around him and guided him toward his door. We’d just turned up the hall when his brother’s voice came from behind. “Momma’s boy,” he called, his tone taunting.

“Are you momma’s boy,” I whispered, my voice only for him.

“Why is he like that?” he said, his own voice equally as low.

“I think he’s jealous ‘cause you get the cutest girls.”

“But I don’t have a girlfriend, and he’s got Rachel.”

I steered him into the kitchen, and waited until his brother passed. “Listen to me, sweetheart, pretty soon you’re going to be fighting the girls off with a stick.” An image of his friend Janine quickly filled my mind’s eye, but as quickly as it formed, I banished it. “Don’t compare yourself to him. You’re two different people.”

He pouted. “He’s taller, and he’s good at sports.”

I cupped his cheek, brushing my thumb over his skin. “Sports aren’t everything, Bobby, and being tall isn’t going to get him any more attention than your looks will get you.”

He made a face. I said, “Bet you he doesn’t know how fast the speed of light is...”

He smiled now.

I pressed my lips to his, and lingered for a moment before pulling away. “And I never want you to repeat it but...” I took a calming breath, surprised at just how close I’d come to crossing a line, to saying something inappropriate. I offered him a warm smile. “I love you more than you can imagine, my sweet boy.”

He looked confused. “Why can’t I repeat that?”

I held his gaze for a long moment, then leaned in, my cheek to his, my lips near his ear. “If you’re a momma’s boy, that makes him a daddy’s boy.” I whispered. I nibbled his ear, then, in my breathiest tone, I said, “I’m pretty sure being a momma’s boy is far more exciting, wouldn’t you agree?”

I pulled back to see a look of wonder in his eyes, or maybe it was awe, but whatever it was, I’d gotten the intended result; it shifted his focus fully and completely away from the differences between he and his brother.

And it likely gave him an erection.

I rubbed my nose against his. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

“Uh huh.”

I laughed softy as I rested my hands on his shoulders, as I directed him toward the dining room. As I moved to sit, I watched his brother’s eyes, watched the thoughts swirling around in them. I shook my head, one brow up, daring him to voice them.


“Dork,” he muttered.

“Get up.”

He met my gaze for a moment before lowering it to his plate.

“I said, get up.”

He looked to his father.

“Look at me,” I said, praying for infinite patience. He did, looking more or less contrite. But he’d already stepped on my last nerve. “When I tell you to do something, you do it, is that clear?”

“Yes,” he murmured, lowering his gaze.

“If it’s clear, why are you not looking at me?”

His gaze came up. I said, “How many times have I asked you not to call him names?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

I slammed my hand down on the table, making the three of them jump. Teeth clenched, I said, “I didn’t ask you for an apology; I want to know how many times I’ve asked you not to call him names?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was it more than once?”


“Mm. And can you tell me why I’ve had to ask you more than once?”

He shrugged.

“Answer me, Richard,” I said, my tone dropping to a low growl.

“I don’t know,” he said, sounding frustrated.

“Well, maybe you ought to pass on dinner, spend some time in your room thinking about it.”

He looked to his father, silently asking him to step in. Wisely, he shook his head, choosing to remain silent. I said, “You’d better stop looking to him to bail you out, buster, because I’ll tell you that out there, in the real world, he isn’t always going to be there. And one day you’re going to do something or say something that’s going to get you into real trouble; something your daddy isn’t going to be able to get you out of.”

“You’re always taking his side,” he muttered.

“You have got to be kidding me! Where the hell did that come from?!” I took a calming breath and released it. “Go. Now.”

When he hesitated, James said, “You heard her. I’ll be in to talk to you after dinner. In the mean time, I want you studying, that means no video games, no surfing, and no texts or phone calls.”

I watched him walk out, head hung low. I gave James a grateful look and received a nod in return. I rubbed Bobby’s arm. “Eat, baby.”

“Why doesn’t he like me?”

I blew out a breath. “He does like you, honey, he’s just... I think he’s just having a hard time figuring out where he fits in.” What I really wanted to say was that he needs a spanking, but I didn’t want to stir the pot.

We finished dinner in relative silence. Afterward, I sent Bobby to his room to finish his homework, and when he was out of earshot, I met James’ gaze. “Thank you for backing me up.”

He stood and pulled me up and into a hug. “Welcome.” He rubbed my back for a few long moments, then said, “Gonna go talk to him, see if I can’t figure out what’s going on with him.”

I cleaned the kitchen, then went to take a bath. I needed to unwind. It had been a long time since I’d gotten that angry, and a nice, hot bath would hopefully put me in a better frame of mind.

I retreated to my room, undressed, and locked myself in my bathroom. I added bath oil to the steaming water, as the tub filled, and lit the two candles on the vanity. The warm scent of vanilla quickly filled the air as I clipped my hair up. I stepped into the tub and sank down into the fragrant water with a sigh, and for several minutes I tortured myself, replaying the scene at dinner. I tried to put myself in Ricky’s shoes, tried to understand where he was coming from, but the only thing I came up with was that he was somehow jealous of his brother, jealous of the time he spends with me. But what I couldn’t figure out was, why? If he was jealous, didn’t that mean that he, himself, wanted to spend more time with me? If that was the case, though, why wouldn’t he make the effort to do just that?

Frustrated, I blew out a breath, and I took and released several more breaths as I tried to clear my mind. Soon I felt myself relaxing, the tension leaving as the hot, oily water began to soothe my muscles, the scent of the candles lulling me to the place I longed to be. I sank lower, allowing the water to cover my shoulders. By the time the water cooled for the third time, I was a puddle, and I sat on the side of the tub to dry myself off, my legs too relaxed to hold me up.

I pulled on my favorite nightie and a pair of worn but very comfortable satin panties, then sat at my dressing table and brushed out my hair. I looked up when the door opened, and returned James’ warm smile. “Hi, handsome.”

He came up behind me, meeting my gaze in the mirror, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders, where he began a gentle massage. I watched as his gaze dropped. “Still as beautiful as the day I met you,” he murmured.

I tilted my head back to look up at his handsome face. He smiled, his hands moving slowly down, over my chest as his lips came closer. “He’s a bit jealous of the time you spend with Bobby,” he said, his breath on my face.

I arched up when his big, warm hands slipped under my gown, moaned, my eyes closing when he found my nipples, brushing over them with his fingertips, teasing me, sending little shocks through me as his tongue moved over mine.

All too soon, though, he broke the kiss, leaving my body strung tight, my lips still parted. He kissed my forehead then straightened, his hands coming back up to my shoulders. I met his gaze. Like my own, his eyes were full of desire. “Go close the door, big boy.”

A slow smile formed and he leaned over to brush his lips to mine. “You have the best ideas.”

I slipped my nightie off, then crawled up onto the bed. I watched as he undressed, watched as his thick, gorgeous cock danced into view. “Looks like he’s happy to see me.”

He laughed softly as he rested a knee on the edge of the bed, his gaze moving from my face to my breasts, then over my stomach to my satin-covered vagina. “Very happy.” He eased himself down onto his stomach and pressed his lips to the inside of my knee, making me shiver in anticipation. “Soft,” he whispered. “Warm.”

I watched his face, though hooded eyes, as he kissed his way up my thighs, alternating from one to the other as he moved, his pace slow, teasing. And when he got close enough, I reached for him, pushed my fingers into his thick, dark hair, and pulled him to me, a long, low moan escaping as he pushed his face into the satin, as he nipped at my lips through it, his hot breath adding to my warmth. I tilted my hips up, opening my thighs further, and I yelped when he bit down on my clit.

He spent a long time down there, teasing me through my panties, leaving them wet with my excitement and his saliva. He maneuvered around on the bed and I rolled over onto my side, already hungry for his cock. I followed it with my eyes as it bobbed in my face, the drop of pre-cum pooling at the tip making my mouth water. I leaned in to swipe at his drool with my tongue, and pressed it to the roof of my mouth. I moaned, even as he pulled me atop him.

This is one of my favorite positions; me on top, his face between my legs, his cock in my mouth. It leaves me in control, free to take as much or as little of him as I want, and it allows me to ride his face.

“Really love these, but they’re between me and your candy store,” he husked, while pulling at the waistband.

I lifted up then settled back down, drawing my knees up, and I moaned around his shaft when his lips found my wetness, his tongue dancing around in my entrance, darting inside, and as he pleasured me, the naughty thought came to me that I needed to keep this particular pair of panties out of the hamper. I didn’t want Bobby to find them. They were tainted. I wanted to protect him from unwittingly putting them to his face. The thought made my head swim and I moaned again as I slipped further down his father’s shaft, sucking at him, teasing him, wanting his sweet, young cum. I groaned, grinding my wet pussy on his face, trembling as he nibbled at my clit, taking me higher.

I eased off of him as the first pulse surged through his cock, his hips coming up off the bed as he tried to follow me. I’d been expecting it, though, for he’s been doing the same thing since the first time I took him into my mouth, so many years ago. But I needed the room in my mouth. I needed room for my tongue to move, to form a little cup at the tip of his cock, a place for him to shoot his sperm.

His cock began to throb and I moaned low as the first warm jet hit my tongue. Over and over he pulsed, filling my mouth with his warm, slick cum, his hips bucking as I rolled my hips over him, my own orgasm sweeping through me, making me dizzy. I cried out when he bit down on my clit, pulled my knees further up and further out, opening myself up to him as wave after wave washed over me, leaving me panting and moaning and swallowing and sucking and licking.

I collapsed atop him, out of breath, and for several long minutes we stayed just like that, my body shuddering ever few moments as his tongue moved around in me, cleaning me. Many years of practice told him to stay away from my clit.

Inappropriately or not, as I lay there in the afterglow, I couldn’t keep my mind from wandering to what he’d said about Ricky, about him being jealous of his brother. I was proud of myself for figuring out what the problem was, but frustrated that I had no idea how to fix it. I mean, I couldn’t force him to spend time with me, if he didn’t want to. It saddened me to even entertain the notion that he didn’t want or need my attention.

I saw Bobby’s face in my mind’s eye and I smiled. He’s so unlike his brother; he has nothing but time for me, loves to be wherever I am. I moaned when he pushed his tongue up into me, and closed my eyes tight, banishing Bobby’s handsome face from my thoughts, only to replace it with his father’s rugged, handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes, so much like his momma’s.

Nervous energy caused me to lift off of him and I turned to meet his curious gaze. I shook my head, conjuring up a lazy smile as I crawled atop him, and brought my lips to his. “I love you,” I murmured.

He squeezed me, moaning, unable to respond through the kiss.

Panting, I pulled my lips from his and focused on his warm, brown eyes. I reminded myself that it was he who had brought me to orgasm. I lowered my cheek to his chest, listened to his steady, even heartbeat and, eventually, his deep, even breathing. Slowly, I lifted my head. His face, so handsome and so relaxed in sleep, gave me pause, elicited feelings of contentment.

I spent a long time just staring at him, enjoying the quiet, until the desire to move around outweighed the need to cuddle. As gently as I could, I eased myself off the bed and backed slowly toward the bathroom, my gaze moving over him, lingering on the soft, glistening organ that lay on his thigh, long but not too long, more than thick enough to please his woman.

I spent a few minutes in the tub, cleaning his saliva and my cream from my sex, enjoying the hot water on my swollen lips. Then I brushed my teeth and returned to the bedroom. He was awake now but hadn’t moved. He followed me with his eyes, a smile pulling his lips. I returned it.

“So sexy,” he said, his tone low and deep.

I sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to tease his stomach with my nails. “I’m glad you think so.”

He brought his hand up beneath a breast and hefted it, then found a nipple and pinched it lightly. “Pretty sure I know why that boy won’t leave your side.”

I opened my mouth in shock, then slapped at his belly. “Bad boy.”

He laughed softly, and gave my breast a gentle squeeze. But the smile slid from his face a moment later. “He follows you around like a love-sick puppy.”

“He loves his momma,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He nodded slowly, pulling on my nipple. “That, he does.” He pulled harder, making my breath catch. “Some boys lust after their mother’s,” he said, his voice dropping further. “And he’s one of ‘em.”


“Just sayin’.”

I cleared my throat as the image of my mother-in-law formed, in my mind’s eye. I couldn’t fight the smile that pulled my lips. While my breasts are bigger than hers, she’s taller and slimmer and, even at fifty-three, still has a very nice figure. And though she has the crows feet that come with age, she’s a very beautiful woman. “Were you one of them?”

He nodded once. “If I had a dollar for every time I...” His gaze dropped to where his fingers were driving me crazy. He shook his head, bringing his gaze back up to mine. “I could probably make at least one house payment.”

I laughed, nervous, hoping he couldn’t hear it. “Bobby’s not like that,” I whispered.

“Are you saying there’s something wrong with me?”

“No. No, I’m not. It’s just...”

His tone softened. “Don’t kid yourself, Jackie, that boy is beating himself raw thinking of you.” He punctuated his words with a pull of his fingers, his brow twitching when I moaned.

“Stop,” I whispered, wishing I could push my hand between my legs, clamp down on my tingling clit.

He laughed softly. “Anyway, don’t be surprised if your panties start disappearing.”

I felt the heat on my cheeks immediately. Reflexively, I slapped at his stomach, then I stood, turning, heading for the dresser, unable to face him. Absently, I reached for a pair of panties and slipped into them.

“It’s harmless, baby. It’s a phase boys go through.”

I reached for my nightgown, praying I wasn’t blushing.

“He’ll outgrow it, honey.”

I faced him then. “Are you trying to give me a complex?”

“No, of course not. Look, forget I said anything, okay?”

I shook my head, a jumble of words trying to form on my tongue, all at once. I said, “Even if he is...” I waved my hand in the air. “...whatever... what business is it of ours? I mean, aren’t people supposed to be able to fantasize?”

“They are,” he said, softening his tone. “And there isn’t a thing wrong with him fantasizing about you.”

I stared at him for a long moment. He said, “There isn’t, Jackie.” A moment later, he said, “If nothing else, the boy has good taste in women.”

“I don’t want him looking at... women.”

“Trust me, honey, that boy has eyes for you, and you alone.”

I shook my head. He rolled off the bed and came to wrap me in his arms. I sighed, my forehead on his shoulder. “I’d have given anything to have my mother,” he whispered, his breath in my hair, in my ear, making me warm.

I pulled in a slow, calming breath, praying he couldn’t hear my heartbeat, hoping he couldn’t smell the scent of my excitement, for I could.

He rubbed my back. “We won’t talk about it anymore, okay?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. He pulled back and lifted my chin. It was everything I had to meet his gaze and to hold it. He pressed his lips to mine, the kiss soft and gentle. “I love you.”

“And I, you.”

I turned to rest my cheek on his chest, and for several minutes we stood there, silent, each lost in thought. He moved his lips to my ear. “I can smell your pussy,” he whispered.

My stomach fluttered at his words. “Bad boy,” I said, curling my fingers into his skin.

He laughed softly.

I pulled away and slapped at his stomach. “Gonna go read.” I turned at the door and blew him a kiss.

I curled up against the arm of the sofa, legs tucked up under me, and pulled my book onto my lap. I opened it and stared at the page, unseeing, James’ words fresh in my mind: I can smell your pussy. I shivered, both at his choice of words and at the thought that I chose to do nothing about it, that I chose to take my usual place on the sofa, where we both knew Bobby would come looking for me, just as soon as he finished his homework. The thought left me light-headed.

I was more than a bit turned on by James’ admission, that he’d longed for his own mother’s touch. I never knew that about him. It had never come up, and I’d never suspected. I wondered now, though, as I stared at the page, whether Priscilla knew that her son had lusted after her. I wondered whether she’d ever pranced around, as I was just then, wearing nothing but a thin nightie and a pair of semi-transparent panties, the scent of her feminine excitement permeating the air around her.

I read for maybe an hour before I heard someone moving up the hall. I was a bit surprised and, though I’d never admit it to a soul, let down, that it wasn’t Bobby. But I followed him with my eyes as he moved to sit beside me.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For calling him a dork.”

I stared at him for several moments but he never lifted his gaze to mine. I blew out a quiet breath and reached out to touch his cheek. “I love you two more than anything in the world, did you know that?”

He nodded, meeting my gaze for only a moment.

“It hurts me when you call each other names, when you hurt each other.”

I watched, my heart aching, as silent tears began to fall from his eyes. I wiped at them with my thumb, and pulled him to me when he leaned over. I shushed him, while he cried, whispering my love for him. And when the tears trickled to a stop he pulled away, offering me a shy smile as he wiped his cheeks with his tee shirt. I rubbed his arm. “It would mean a lot to me if you would try to understand him better, try to see that, just because he isn’t interested in sports or hunting or fishing, he’s still a good person.”

He nodded. I said, “You’re his big brother, and he looks up to you, but did you know that beneath that soft-spoken exterior is a fighter?”

A small smile pulled his lips. I felt my own coming on. He said, “He still won’t come near him.”

He is Josh Banner, a schoolmate of Bobby’s, a bully, by most accounts, who had, only three months ago, learned the hard way that Bobby can be pushed only so far.

I’d gotten a call from the principal, asking me to come pick him up; he’d been suspended from school for five days. I’d scolded him, of course, and I’d grounded him, even if it was only for those same five days. For Bobby, though, being grounded is tantamount to a slap on the wrist, for he’d spent nearly the entire time hanging out with me; watching movies and baking and playing board games and working puzzles. But, I digress...

I ran my fingers through his hair. “That boy that you called a dork would fight to his last breath to protect the people he loves, Ricky, including you.”

“You think?”

“I know, and don’t you ever doubt it.”

“Guess I should apologize to him, huh?”

“That would be the right thing to do, yes.”

“Kay.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek, then he stood and left, without a backward glance.

Not ten minutes later Bobby appeared, smiling as he approached. He knelt at my feet, his lips coming to rest on my knee, and I ran my fingers through his hair. “You have such a beautiful smile.”

I watched it grow, his eyes shining. I closed my fingers, capturing a tuft of his hair, and squeezed, making his eyelids droop. Dazed or not, though, his gaze drifted into my cleavage and, eventually, to my nipple. I continued to pull his hair as he continued to stare, my nipples hardening under his gaze, until they began to ache. I knew that this was where I was supposed to tell him that young boys aren’t supposed to stare at women’s breasts, but I had no desire to discourage him. It felt wonderful to have him looking. It made my tummy flutter and my heart race to know that I had his attention, that he found me attractive. He’s so unlike his brother, that way; I don’t believe I’ve ever caught Ricky admiring me, and yet, here was his brother, openly staring.

His gaze came up. “Are you cold?”

I shook my head, my stomach fluttering anew.

His gaze returned to my nipple. A few moments later it moved to the other, then to my cleavage, then back to my nipple before coming up. “Ricky apologized.”

I nodded for him to continue. He said, “He told me he thought it was cool that I beat Josh up.”

I laughed softly, curling my fingers in his hair as his gaze slid down through my cleavage, again burning a hole in my nightie. Then he turned his head and lowered his cheek to my calf, his eyes drifting closed as a soft moan escaped him. He reminded me of a puppy, just then; ever loyal and affectionate and protective. But he’s no puppy, he’s my child. He’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever accomplished. I reached up to wipe at my eyes, my throat closed tight with emotion.

He felt the movement, though, and opened his eyes. His head came up, a look of concern transforming his face. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “Nothing,” I whispered.

“You’re crying.”

Still unable to talk, I offered him a sad smile. He rose and, in a series of moves that only appeared choreographed and well-practiced, we moved to lay down, his legs entwined with my own, his head on his hand, his eyes locked with mine. “Why are you crying?”

I shook my head, smiling, and cupped his cheek, my thumb moving gently against his skin. “They’re happy tears.”

“What are you happy about?”

“I’m happy because I have a wonderful husband and two wonderful sons. I’m happy because we’re all healthy and warm.”

“I’m happy because I have the most beautiful mom in the world.”

I smiled, charmed. “You think I’m beautiful?”

He nodded, his gaze steady on mine. I brushed my lips to his. “Well, I happen to think you’re the most handsomest boy in the world.” I kissed him again, my lips lingering on his for a long moment. “And I think some really pretty girl is gonna make you really happy some day.” I pulled back to see his eyes closed, his lips parted in the classic look a girl gets with her first real kiss. I leaned in again, brushing my lips to his, lingering, pulling away slowly when he released a soft moan. And I watched, my heart swelling with love and pride, as his eyes fluttered open, his gaze finding my own, taking long moments to focus, brightening until they were beaming.

I drew a fingertip over his lips. “Ever kissed a girl before?”

He shook his head, looking love struck. I stared into his eyes, committing the moment to memory. How many women can say they were their son’s first kiss? “Nice?”

He nodded vigorously.

“I thought so too,” I whispered.

For several long moments he stared into my eyes, then, in the blink of an eye, he was staring at my lips, seemingly willing them to him. This is where I was supposed to shake my head, to tell him that a mother doesn’t kiss her son that way. But I couldn’t have resisted the pull if my life depended on it. “Kiss your momma?” I whispered.

He nodded, staring at my lips until they began to move. His eyes slid closed then, and he moaned when, again, I pressed my lips to his. I held them there for a long time, enjoying the feel of his warm skin on my own, enjoying the taste of him.

I pulled away when I felt him pressing against my thigh. My heart raced, my stomach fluttering wildly, at the realization that I’d made him hard. But where I was in a near panic, unsure what to do, he was oblivious, his eyes still closed, lips still parted, his fingers closed in the material of my nightie, looking for all the world like he was holding on for dear life. And maybe he was. I released a quiet sigh as I slipped my hand around the back of his head. My fingers in his hair, I pulled him to me, tucking his face into the crook of my neck, hoping to protect him from his momma.

He sighed, in response, snuggling up to me, pressing his hard cock more firmly into my thigh. He pulled in a deep breath, then released it. “Love the way you smell,” he murmured.

That was all it took for me to become aware of my scent. It suffused the air around us, and it occurred to me that, even without the kisses, he’d have likely gotten hard just from my scent. He has had two months or so of conditioning, two months of associating his mother’s intimate scent with erections and masturbation and sexual gratification. The idea made me light-headed, the notion only just now registering with me that he was already associating everything he knows about sex, with the scent of his own mother’s sexual excitement. I rationalized that all women smell much the same, but I knew it was only an assumption, for I had no practical experience. But if it were the case, there was no harm, and therefore, no foul.

But wasn’t it possible that he’d one day lay with a girl, and in the heat of passion realize that her scent didn’t trigger the desired response? Even as the question formed in my mind, I dismissed it as ridiculous. Common sense told me that, when the time comes, when he finds himself pressed up against some hot and bothered girl, he’ll be hard. Just as he is now.

I slid my hand down his back, curled my fingers, and raked my nails up to his shoulder blades, making him arch into me, making him moan, his breath warm on my neck. But when he pushed against me again, I found the strength to speak. “Baby...”

“Mm?” Again he pressed into me.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

I wasn’t ready for the look in his eyes, the lazy way they focused on my own, the dreamy look in them, a look that made my heart flutter, a look I’m sure would have made my knees weak, were I standing. I forced myself to concentrate. “Maybe you need to go to your room,” I whispered. “Take care of yourself.”

The dreamy look quickly cleared, giving way to embarrassment as a shy smile formed. I laughed softly. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart.”

He made a face, still looking embarrassed. I said, “Go get ready for bed. I’ll come tuck you in, in a few minutes.”


He rolled off the sofa and walked out, not the least bit shy of the tent in his briefs. I reached down to lay my hand on my thigh, where his erection had been, then shook my head, groaning, as I rolled off the sofa.

I slowed as I approached the office. I was this close to entering when I remembered he’d be able to smell me. I continued on to my room, to my bathroom. My stomach fluttered as I caught my reflection in the mirror. My nipples were hard, two thick nubs pushing obscenely at the thin cotton of my nightie, practically screaming, Look at me! I brought my hands up and cupped my breasts, squeezing and lifting them, capturing my nipples between my thumbs and fingers and pinching them, softly at first then harder, moaning, my eyes closing.

I released one breast and ran my hand down, over my belly, over the silk of my panties, and cupped myself, pulling my fingers up into my crease. Already hot and wet and excited, I hissed when I found my clit, moaned, my hips tilting up as I began to rub it in teasing little circles.

I would have loved to bring myself off, but I had the feeling that the window of opportunity would be relatively small before Bobby locked his door, and I really wanted to kiss him goodnight before that happened.

I pushed my fingers down, forcing the silk into my damp center, and moved them in small circles, causing the silk to absorb my wetness like a sponge. I pulled my hand up and sniffed at my fingers, a soft moan escaping. I watched myself in the mirror as I reached for the waistband, watched as I slid them over my hips, my gaze going to the trimmed thatch of soft, blonde hair on my mound, then to my bare labia, to the thick inner lips that protrude out into the open air like two naughty girls. I laughed soundlessly at the mental image, as I lifted one foot and then the other. I brought them up to my nose and pulled in a long, slow breath, then moaned as I released it.