This is the story of my relationship with my son, Neal. My husband left in the middle of the night when Neal was 12 years old and neither of us has ever heard from him since. I am now 45, though all of my friends tell me I still look like I am in my late 20s. I am 5’6″ with long red hair that hangs down past my waist. My breasts are still a firm, upright 36D and I have a 24″ waist. My hips are only 34″, which made having Neal a bit difficult. But he’s the best thing in my life and being married to his worthless father is made that much better by his being the product. Neal is now 26 and 6’4″ tall, solid muscle with an engaging smile that makes everyone like him immediately.
For the first couple of years after Neal’s father left, I was just a mess, crying all the time, feeling sorry for myself, wondering what I did wrong that he would just leave like that. Everything had seemed to be going great. One day when Neal was 18, I remember it well, I had just finished showering when I was overcome by one of my feel‑sorry‑for‑myself episodes and sat on the bed crying. I had always tried to shield Neal from how I felt but he must have heard me crying, for the next thing I knew he was standing next to the bed, a hand on my shoulder trying to reassure me.
“Don’t cry, mom,” he said. “Everything will be okay.”
At that I burst into tears, the thought of my son trying to comfort me. I wrapped my arms around Neal’s waist and buried my head against his stomach, sobbing uncontrollably. Neal continued to gently stroke my head until I stopped crying. I finally got control of myself and let him go, sitting up, not realizing that my towel had come undone and had slipped from my body to the bed, exposing me entirely.
“I’m sorry, Neal,” I told him, still unaware that he was staring at my naked body.
Neal was already over six feet tall and from where I was sitting his waist was just about at eye level. Because of that I couldn’t help noticing the bulge that began to grow in Neal’s shorts. Looking up at him I saw that he was acutely embarrassed and that his eyes kept moving over my body, which I now realized was totally exposed to his view. Pulling up my towel, I furiously thought of how to deal with the situation.
“I’m sorry, Neal,” I told him. “I didn’t realize the towel had fallen. That wasn’t fair to you.”
“Gee, mom, that’s okay,” Neal stammered, his cock still growing and pushing out the front of his shorts. “It’s just that you’re really beautiful.”
“You must be kidding,” I laughed. “I’m in my 40s. But seeing me made this happen?” I asked, pointedly lifting my hand and gently placing it over the bulge in his shorts.
“Gosh, yeah, I guess so,” Neal stammered as I felt the size of him through his shorts. He was definitely bigger than his father had been.
“I haven’t been with a man since your father left,” I confessed, still gently squeezing his cock through his shorts. “I didn’t think I could get a man excited anymore.”
“You’ve sure got me excited,” Neal gasped as I squeezed him firmly through his shorts.
“It does feel that way,” I agreed, again squeezing him. “But let me see,” I said, letting my hand slide up to his waistband.
Neal had just stood there while I pulled his shorts down to the floor, his cock springing out and standing straight in front of him.
“Oh, Neal, you have such a nice cock,” I told him, reaching out and grasping him around the shaft while at the same time I leaned forward, opening my mouth and softly sucking on the head of my son’s cock.
“Oh, mom!” Neal exclaimed as I began to suck his cock, moaning as I remembered the taste I so loved. I lost any pretense of keeping the towel around me and let it slide back down onto the bed, now sitting naked on my bed with my son standing between my spread legs while I sucked his cock. It had to be at least 10″ long and it was only with great effort that I managed to suck it entirely into my mouth and throat without choking.