After a long day at work the only things on my mind are a hot bubble bath, tea and a good sleep. Today, when I had to tell five people they are being fired, the tea will need upgrading to a vodka cranberry. Younger versions of me would have partied and danced the stress away on a Friday night but at 49 years old those days are history.
The second I walk through my front door I kick off my low heels and lay my blazer over a chair, then pour my favorite drink out. Taking a long sip I breathe deeply and release some of the stress building in my shoulders, watching myself relax in the mirrored surface of my fridge.
I have always been very critical of myself (I blame my Catholic upbringing) but even I think I don’t look too bad. I could lose a few kgs, there are some wrinkles around my eyes, grey at the roots of my dyed blonde hair…
Never mind! I decide, not wanting to look at my own flaws too closely any more.
Instead I take the glass upstairs to the bathroom and fill up the bath with steaming water, sliding my skirt and blouse off. Before I take my emerald knickers and bra off I suddenly remember to close the door.
“Dangers of living alone for too long” I think out loud, locking the door. For a few years I have lived alone and become used to leaving the bathroom door wide open, but my 22 year old son Matt recently moved home from university. Selfishly I feared to lose my independence but he has grown into a young man, old enough to have his own life. Ironically I see less of him now that he lives with me than before when I had to visit him.
I strip off, letting the 38G bra drop to the floor as I step into the hot bath water, my pale skin flushing red from the heat and relaxing my stressed body. Draining the vodka cranberry I sink deeper in the bath tub and squeeze some lotion into my hands, rubbing it over my skin.
“Ah that feels nice…” I whisper with a happy sigh. My hands focus a lot on my thick thighs and hips before massaging lotion into my trimmed pubic hair. I rarely masturbate in truth but I’m quickly turning myself on, my fingers lazily tracing the outline of my clit.
With one hand I gently squeeze my inch long nipples, with the other I softly slap (like love taps) my pussy, teasing and playing with my body. My mind is running through my usual erotic fantasies and memories but none do the trick, so instead I focus all of my efforts on simply enjoying my present arousal.
I slide my hips up and down making little waves in the bath tub as I rub my pussy.
A single innocent thought flashes in my mind that says I should hurry up.
Matt will be home soon.
To my surprise and shame it is this thought that pushes me to orgasm. For the next three orgasms I only feel the shame, but I tell myself it is harmless. Lots of people enjoy the risk of being caught, no? The fact it is my son that might catch me is irrelevant.
Feeling dirty even after the long bath I step out and dry myself off, my cheeks pink, nipples still visibly hard and my pussy very puffy. I wrap a small white towel around my chest, which covers my chest and most of my smooth belly but truthfully very little of my hips and big round booty.
I don’t worry about it, because Matt is not home anyway. I would have heard him open the front door.
After a quick blow dry to take the damp out of my hair I unlock the bathroom door, gather up my clothes off the tiles and walk out to my bedroom.
“Hey mom I’m—“
I almost scream in shock as I bump into Matt. The small towel slips straight down my thick body and I drop the clothes in fright. It is only for a second but his eyes go wide and scan down my body in an instant before he looks away. My curvaceous pale body. My big natural breasts and huge hard nipples. My puffy trimmed pussy.
“Oh! Shit, mom I’m so sorry” he says and covers his eyes as I blush deeply.
I frantically pick the towel and clothes back up and press them against my front, spin around and rush away to my bedroom without saying a single word.
“I didn’t mean to—” he calls after me embarrassed and accidentally glimpses my big shiny booty jiggle as I run the few metres to my bedroom.
I slam the door shut and almost collapse to the carpet so embarrassed I could cry. Maybe as a strange reaction to my humiliation I feel my arousal building again but I think it is simply a rush of emotions all at once.
I’m sat with my back against my bedroom door when I hear his foot steps just outside.
Maybe he wants to apologise to me again?
Then he walks away deciding against it.
My breathing is shallow as I put my pyjamas on (old tee shirt and cotton shorts). I try to go to bed and forget this ever happened.
“I’ll speak to him tomorrow and we can move past this as if…” I whisper out loud to myself lying in bed, “as if this accident didn’t happen.”
As if your son did not see your puffy pussy. As if you hadn’t flashed your big tits at him.
I close my eyes and shake my head as if shaking these thoughts away.
He looked at me naked up and down. Maybe he liked what he saw… maybe his cock went hard.
I switch a bedside fan on to drown these thoughts out so that I can sleep.
I wonder what his hard cock looks like.
—
After a very poor night’s sleep I wake up still feeling very guilty about my intrusive thoughts. I rub my thighs together mindlessly and feel my nipples stiffen against the tee shirt fabric, somehow the shame and guilt making my body more sensitive.
I imagine a tongue licking and sucking, strong hands holding my hips and my own hands holding Matt—
No, enough of this!
I jump out of bed like a woman possessed and march down the hall way to the bathroom, lock the door and strip off. I put the shower on cold and stay beneath it until I am freezing. At least this stops the bad thoughts returning.
I wrap myself up in the big towel this time to take no chances. I look at myself in the mirror and feel disgust.
“Łucja snap yourself out of this” I whisper.
Why? It is harmless. Put the little towel on and fake an accident so you can show him your naked body again. Maybe he will—
“Slut” I say. I try to be serious but laugh at how silly I am, cold and wearing a towel, calling myself a slut in the mirror.
You are 49, not 89. Live a little bit! You used to have fun.
I purse my lips and decide to take the risk. It is unlikely he will be here still and even if I do flash him I can claim it is an accident, no? The thought makes me suddenly feel less cold.
With a rush of excitement and knots in my stomach I drop the big towel and wrap the tiny towel around my body. My nipples are fully hard (from the cold water not from arousal, I tell myself) while my pussy is moist (from water again, not arousal, of course).
In the mirror I position the towel so that it sits above my hips and big booty, barely covering my nicely hairy pussy mound and hanging off my breasts by a thread. Even slight wobble would make the towel slide down.
Yesterday I saw an aging chubby woman in my reflection. Today I see a mature curvy MILF.
I unlock the bathroom door with a deep breath and tiptoe out in to the hall way…
