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Having feared and anticipated this moment, Gary spoke nervously, "It is certainly hot in here isn't it mother? Why don't you take your blouse off?" His eyes were wide as he stared intensely into my own and it seemed like he was ready for the expected disgusted response.

It took me a few seconds to get my own nerve up before answering as I had planned, "Do you think it would help Gary? It is hot in here!" My hands rose to the buttons running down the front of my silk white blouse and I wondered if my son noticed them trembling. Incidentally, I was hot - but mostly from my fast beating heart from anticipating this moment.

He sat staring incredibly as I unfastened each of the small discrete buttons until I pulled the tails out of the waistband of my skirt and pulled the shirt off my shoulders. I sat before him in my white lace brassiere and skirt.

I had to turn my head away simply to still my nerves - as his eyes feasted upon my exposed torso as if he had never seen me dressed this way before. In our home, my son often finds a reason to come into my room as I am dressed in my underthings. Though I have never sat like this at our dinner table, exposed in such a common situation, and it felt like my heart would beat through my chest.

"Feel better mom?"

I turned back toward the table, staring down at my finished supper plate. "It is - thank you honey." To hide my embarrassment, my face heating up so I knew my cheeks must be turning red, I slowly stood up and reached for our two soiled plates - silently declaring this meal done.

Just as I was walking the three steps to the kitchen sink Gary asked the next inevitable question, "Would you be more comfortable if you took off your bra mom?"

The plates clattered as I dropped them suddenly into the sink. I could not look back at my son and his intense eyes, "I wear it so often honey that it really does not bother me." Which, in fact, was false - after a long day at work, my shoulders hurt and my breasts itched within their confinement. I gained enough bravado to turn about, my buttocks against the edge of the counter to steady me, as my knees felt unsteady.

Gary looked suddenly nervous and I watched his lips open as if in slow motion, "Would you take it off if I wanted you to mom?" I could sense my son's resolve faltering and I feared that all my plans and desires for this moment may fail because I was too weak to go through with them.

My mouth was incredibly dry so my words came out rather thickly, "If you want me to do that honey, I would?"

His response was no surprise, but his eyes brightened up at my answer before he even opened his mouth, "Then take it off for me mom."

I didn't reply, but reached around behind my back with trembling hands to unhook myself from my brassiere. Gary sat frozen, mouth open, eyes glued to my chest as the straps of my undergarment slipped off my white shoulders and fell down to the tiles at my feet.

His young eyes were glued to both my large brown hard nipples.

To get away from this disconcerting scrutiny, I stepped back toward the table to continue cleaning the supper mess. Just before reaching it, I realized that my large breasts were swaying naturally to my steps and my son was in awe at the sight.

My fast beating heart fluttered with pride - it has been years since eyes looked that way at me.

I took his cup and my coffee mug into each hand when Gary spoke up finally, "You have beautiful boobs mom." I turned back toward the kitchen suddenly, mostly to hide the smile that appeared on my face. The sound of his voice left little doubt in my mind of his conviction.

Oh god! Gary was falling for this!

Returning back to the table for the place mats, Gary asked, "You are trembling mom - are you nervous?" His voice was sounding more sure of himself by the second.

I stopped at the edge of the table, conscious that my hard nipples were but a reach away from my son's hands - the swaying hard nipples the same height as my son's eyes. "I am a little nervous honey."

"Tell me why mom?"

Why not tell the truth? "It is wrong for a boy to be checking out his nearly-naked mother like this." 'This' meant the way his eyes devoured my bosoms.

He was showing more confidence by the second - good. "We are in the privacy of our home mom - no one can see us?" I nodded in agreement. "And I like your tits mom."

I let the proud smile appear upon my lips. "Thank you Gary. But you don't think they are a little old compared to girls your own age?" It was a question that needed to be asked - part of my attempt to understand why my son has looked upon me with lust these last few years. And if truth be told, my breasts were not the high firm mounds that they had been when I was Gary's age.

Gary nodded in agreement which melted my smile before he spoke up in response, "I don't know much about the boobs of the girls my 'own age' mom - but I know I like yours. A lot!" my smile quickly returned. "Would you mind if I asked you to keep them bare around the house mom?"

"All the time honey?"

He nodded for a few seconds, his eyes again glued to my nipples - one and then the other, and then back - before replying after thinking of his response, "You can dress normally if someone else is around - but I think you should go bare ... or maybe something see-through when we are alone." His eyes jerked up to look into mine and a sudden fear shot through me that he could read my dishonesty in that intense gaze. "Would that be okay with you?" This was a dangerous game I was playing.

I tried to nod in response but was could barely move - my son was asking me to stay bare from the waist up around him, how was I supposed to answer? Finally, I found the strength to answer, "If you wish Gary... ?" All the hours of conjuring up this moment, I had never anticipated this request, never imagined he fancied my body enough to look at it naked all the time. I felt giddy and pleased.

He stood slowly and awkwardly and I stole a look down to see the definite bulge in his jeans. My god! That had to hurt ... and to think, that was because of me!

My son rushed from the room, and eventually up to his room.

A strange sense of loss washed over me.

Walking about my overly large immaculate home without a top was very strange those first few hours. Especially since I was alone - Gary having barricaded himself in his room just after supper.

My body was in a strange state of arousal and embarrassment - often trembling violently at random times. My son had stared at my breasts with a hunger that I have never seen aimed my way, at least in the last decade or two.

My mind was in turmoil - telling me to forgo this crazy scheme of mine, to cover my torso and chastise my son for such blatant abuse of his loving parent. Yet it was also my mind, a very large part of it, that craved that attention - that had come up with this idea for allowing myself to be dominated in this fashion.

You see, long before my divorce to Gary's father, my mind and body began to crave things that they hadn't before - sexual things. Oh nothing too wild - and nothing involving my son, I assure you. But I started to think of sex, sex and more sex more often than I think you may believe. My husband, in the beginning, accommodated my desires - willingly mounting me almost nightly. Yet that become old, at least for him, and our physical love deteriorated with the years. The truth was, even before he stopped shoving his penis between my legs as often as I could get it, that it was unsatisfying and left me wanting - but at least it was sex.

I was a good wife - I took whatever my husband offered, finding solace with my own hand otherwise. Then the bastard surprised me by announcing that there was another woman - younger, prettier of course, and he was leaving. I was devastated. This was not how I envisioned my marriage ending.

I was left with a teenage son, a huge lonely house and without even the understanding how it had transpired.

My husband had told me these last years, in defence for not making love to me, that I was getting overweight, that he did not desire me - I accepted these as natural progressions of all marriages and hid the hurt from those statements deep inside.

I dated a few men afterwards - but all reminded me of my husband in some fashion and even the heat between my legs would not allow me to accept their offers to bed. That left me with my hand, and more frequently as the years passed, toys for all occasions, and my fantasies. With little option, I began to accept this as the best way to satisfy myself.

Gary hit puberty just before his father left - as I cleaned his bed sheets, I understood that my little boy was changing. When we were alone, I started to notice how my son looked at me - at parts of me.

That scared me - but I convinced myself it would pass, he was only a early teenager and it was simply curiosity. Some young tight-ass little thing would come along and he would never give his old fat mother another look.

A handful of years passed.

I turned down the infrequent offers of men now, coming few and far between - having steeled myself to chastity in the form of frequent masturbation. Contrary to my thoughts, Gary had not slowed down in his visual desires for me. I did not encourage him, you must understand, but I pretended ignorance.

It became more than a little flattering you should understand as well, after the initial confusion and fear wore off - that a woman who had been told by her ex-husband that she is no longer desirable should tempt a young buck is no small feat to my mind.

When I found the porn in his room - images and stories about mature women and young boys, hardcore stuff that left little to the imagination - it frightened me not a little. Perhaps there was something wrong with my only child - that he is infatuated with his old mother rather than a girl his own age. It's not natural right?

It all helped my fantasies though - fuelling orgies of youthful teenage flesh for my pleasure. Yet I never allowed them to feature my son.

Fighting the desire to squeeze my breasts - how they ached to be touched - I sighed again to compose myself before striding up the stairs into my own room.

I stood at my dresser considering what I could wear - something that was either see-through or left my chest exposed I had been told. My dresser offered a rather short list you must understand. But eventually decided upon a very loose thin cotton pair of shorts - they were snug about my hips but loose at my waist. The last could of years at the gym has helped my body be recreated into a shape it never had before - a mature curvaceous hour-glass figure.

I looked at myself in my mirror, thinking I looked better than I had in years. Had to be all the masturbation I've done, I laughed at my private joke.

Then, as they always do, my eyes evaluated my low hung large breasts, the fine white stretch marks below my navel - a reminder that I was never going to be that sexy teenager from twenty years before. Stretch marks were something my husband hated, turned him off, disgusted him - his words - yet many of which were made producing our child.

"Mom?"

Gary was standing in my open doorway as I inhaled sharply at the surprise of his appearance. He was smiling out one side of his mouth while staring at my bare chest.

"I brought you your tea mom." His arm stretched out between us and the hot mug of herbal lemon tea approached me. When the knuckles of this hand brushed the inside soft curve of my right breasts I did not try to hide the shiver that ran through me. Gary looked surprised at the touch as well - shock written upon his face before breaking out in a wide grin.

I took the hot mug of tea and tried to turn toward the foot of the bed casually. Could he feel the sexual tension in the air as I could?

Sitting on the wooden chest at the foot of my queen-sized bed, I stared up at him with the best innocent face I could conjure as I took a tentative sip of the hot liquid.

His eyes watched me take that first drink then he reluctantly withdrew from my room - closing my door behind me.

I sat trembling as I slowly finished the tea before going to bed.

Wearing the skirt and hose from work that day, I also wore a kitchen apron else I may harm myself. Gary sat at the table watching me - enjoying how my unencumbered breasts swayed beneath the loose apron, how one breast kept peeking out the side suggestively. My nipples were hard and painful, the constant rubbing of the coarse apron frustrating and it was difficult to concentrate on cooking.

The casserole came out of the oven as my over-sized oven mitts added to the overall effect that I exude.

Normally I came right home from work to start supper - often wearing what I wore that day. Today, the only difference from years of the same routine, was that I removed my blouse and brassiere before starting supper. My son just watching silently, looking immensely pleased.

I spooned a generous portion of the hot food onto my son's plate, much less for myself - never wanting to be that fat woman that my husband would not dare touch. Then I carried the steaming plates to the table. I fished out a carton of milk from the fridge and a cup and set it before Gary before sitting across from him. As I picked up my fork, I notice he had already started.

Between mouthfuls Gary asked rather openly, at least for us, "Why don't you date mom?" His eyes could not decide to look at my face or at the single breast thrusting around the edge of the apron.

I blew on the forkful of hot food before answering, "It's complicated honey." It was and is.

He took a few more heaping forkfuls of food before continuing, "Dad says that you're 'frigid'?"

I felt the familiar flush of anger rage within me - my husband still had that power over me, even though we have not been married for several years now. Besides, it was ridiculous. I had to take a deep breath to calm myself, "Your father is not always right Gary." This was spoken unintentionally in my matronly 'mother' voice.

Gary nodded as if he understood, which I sincerely doubted, "How do you know if you are or aren't 'frigid' mom?"

I stole a stern look up into my sons face, to see if he was purposefully being malicious in this line of talk. All I saw as a frown upon his forehead and a genuine interest to understand his mother a little more. But, of course, I knew he had an ulterior motive.

What better time to do it than 'now'!

"I know because I am a passionate woman honey." I thought this over and decided to be totally honest, "I have been worried that if I met another guy, he would eventually hurt me as your father had. That is why I don't date."

My son nodded again before continuing, "How do you know you're 'passionate' mom?"

This line of questioning was more than frustrating to me - it was questions that I often feared to ask myself, echoing hurt-filled comments that my husband threw at me years back. So my response had a little less thought than I intended, "I am 'passionate' because my body and my mind often responds to the slightest provocation."

That peaked his attention and he dared to ask the next question, "Like when you are topless?" With the earlier tone of my voice, I was not surprised when Gary seemed to inwardly cringe as he awaited my answer.

"Yes." It was time to go for broke. "But I like how you look at me more." There - it was said. I had spoken confidently at first, but it had quickly turned nearly to a whisper by my admission's end. My heart was beating hard again - I liked it.

Finally, Gary responded, "I like it too mom."

We shared a smile and a look before he openly let his eyes drift down to that single exposed breast and its hard nipple.

We ate silently until both of our plates were empty.

Out of the blue, "Is your body responding right now mother?" I should have seen the question coming.

I simply nodded nervously in response.

Gary was persistent though, "Please tell me mom?" He looked anxious and intensely interested at the same time.

I smiled gently, more for a pause to gain my strength than for any other reason. Lowering my eyes to my single exposed teat, "My nipples will get tight and wrinkled - hard and very sensitive."

He nodded, having obviously noticed their condition. "That is because you are excited?"

I nodded affirmatively again, "Yes it is honey. Sometimes it happens because I may be cold - but it is nice and warm in our house isn't it?"

He ignored the question, "Is there anything else?"

"Oh yes." Time to be blunt, "When you look at me Gary, I feel like an naughty little girl." Not completely true - but held enough of the truth to come across believable.

Gary's face broke out in a wide grin, "I like that mom - 'naughty little girl'." His hand reached across and took mine, his fingers gently fondling my palm - it caused a new shiver to run down my spine, ending in a place that I tried hard not to think about right at that moment.

"Are you wet mom?" It was blurted out on purpose, else he would not be able to ask such a pointed bawdy question I guessed.

I nodded slowly, my forehead breaking out in beads of sweat. Hadn't this been exactly what I had anticipated? Is this the direction we were heading but was too scared to consider it? "Yes honey, I am." I was - my sex had been in a constant state of damp heat for days, more when I was near my leering son. There was something to be said about being desired by someone you love.

He nodded sagely, as if he knew the answer already, "I like the fact that you are wet mom."

I tried to smile but could not.

"When I look at you mom I get hard all the time - especially now." He meant since I was topless. I could see that this admission had been difficult for him to say - embarrassing.

I thought to echo his earlier statement, "I like when you are hard honey." This time my smile appeared, anxious for my son to get my light-hearted joke.

His face looked astonished and I knew he had missed my point, "You do mom?"

I had to swallow a mouthful of saliva before continuing, "You are a gorgeous young man honey - any old woman would be flattered when you get excited around her."

"I don't think of you as 'old' mom?" I simply smiled weakly in response - I felt old and since I was double my son's age, I am old.

Gary still teased my palm - and I did not want to disengage from that touch to clean up the supper dishes - but the seconds were becoming awkward. It was my son that reluctantly pulled his hand away, breaking our contact, shattering the moment.

I stood and retrieved the dirty supper dishes as my son stood to leave the room. It was a strange moment, when a mother openly appraised her son's bulging groin and that son stares at his mother's hard exposed nipple.

A sigh escaped me when he turned and practically ran from the room - anxious for privacy.

This game I had allowed to happen was coming close to the very images I had conjured about it. If I wanted it to go further, why was I so scared?

The second arm on the analog clock next to my bed slowly moved around the illuminated face. It was black out, well past midnight and I could not sleep.

This path I had set Gary and I on was dangerous, to say the least. Was my lack of male attention so deprived me that I allowed myself to consider my own son as a potential mate? Of course I was not only to blame - Gary had started this charade that I was doing.

You see, a couple weeks ago I had found an open parcel stuffed beneath my son's bed while cleaning. It was a plain brown wrapped small box that held three vials of white crystals. The first thought any mother of a teenager goes through is that he was on drugs. Opening the accompanying folded paperwork, I saw in bold print, 'Control Anyone'.

Reading further, I discovered that Gary had purchased some type of mind control drug over the Internet. It was ridiculous to me - why would he spend money on this junk?

Then it hit me and I had to sit down on my son's carpeted floor as I realized that my son wanted to control me!

Had his infatuation with his mom gone so far, the no-holds-barred porn that he downloaded from the Internet did not help, that he was going to try and drug me into having sex with him?

The rest of that day went in a daze when my son had gotten home from soccer practise, it being Saturday. He had come up behind me, where I sat on the couch staring blankly at the television screen, wrapped his arms about my shoulders and kissed my neck. I did not move, still stunned at my earlier find.

Then, as if watching as a spectator, I felt my son tense before feeling his lips open wide and take the sensitive flesh of the nape of my neck between them even as one hand slipped down from my shoulder to grasp my covered breast. His hand and lips groped me aggressively, amateurishly and roughly before my daze cracked and I jumped up out of the couch and out of his clutches.

I screamed at him, wiggled my finger and used obscenities for the first time between us. He cowered under my onslaught, but I noticed that he also appeared surprise at my response to his advances. Only when my violent outburst calmed to a thick quiet did I realize that I was supposed to be under this mind control drug's power - under my son Gary's power - and he had thought to seduce me while in this state.

My god!

I sent him to his room - and slammed my own before hiding in a large tub of water in my private bathroom. I doubt either of us slept that night - as anger turned to sorrow and I cried in the darkness.

It was the next morning that Gary approached me - apologizing for what happened, mumbling that it would never happen again. I coldly told him that it better not, that I hopped he did not treat girls his own age so commonly.

I stood there after Gary left the room, chest fallen, when some part of my mind asked itself, would it be so bad? In shock I analyzed my own conflicting thoughts.

This sleepless night, I again reviewed some of those thoughts. How I could hold the reigns of power while my son thought he held them - that power being a new physical relationship between my son and I. If it should ever end, and all things come to an end as my marriage proved, then I would be blameless ... right? Well, at least in his eyes - so it may allow us to end the physical part of our relationship and continue as mother and son.

Or so I prayed.

The nightly herbal tea had started a week or two before I found that package - and continued after our blow up. In fact, it had never stopped and I had realized, that same day that my son had apologized for his behaviour, what it contained. As he approached me that very night with another dose of tea mixed with some mail order mind control drug - I sat drinking it while watching his anxious expression. He had not given up on the drug, or on me. Did he truly lust after his old mom that strongly?

So I waited - until nearly two weeks later, he had mentioned how warm it was at our dinner table and then made another play about taking my blouse off. From the day we had our falling out from Gary groping me to the day that I sat bare chested before him, willingly, I had thought little else than the fantasy of acting the part that my son envisioned.

Why not, I asked myself again and again - as I masturbated at the nasty images coursing through my mind? I certainly needed the physical side of what I envisioned - I could not kid myself any further, masturbation just wasn't enough and it had been so very long since I've had a good hard cock in me. My son, from my point of view, could use some female attention as well. Who would it hurt if he found it with his mother?

It would take some self control on my part - I knew. I could not take the initiative, ever. He must control the reigns of power and do with me what he will. You see, my son had to think he was in control - that I was brain washed as his private sex slave. Though it seemed incredible to me, the idea of letting myself be controlled this way was intoxicating and purely delicious. Something out of my darkest, most secret, of fantasies and it never failed to excite me.

After my second self-induced orgasm, I finally watched as the face of the clock slipped into blackness.

Gary pulled away from our lengthy bare chested hug and looked down at my chest. "Your nipples are hard again mom?" He asked with a smirk.

I smiled and responded in kind, "So is your penis honey." I had felt it against my thigh, through the single layer of his gray sweat pants.

He playfully pouted, "Calling it a 'penis' sounds so clinical mom. Would you call it a 'cock'?"

With delight, that I hid, I responded, "If that is what you want honey?"

He nodded, his lips wide with pleasure his eyes dancing over the exposed flesh of my chest.

I could almost read my son's thoughts, "What do you call that place between your legs mom?"

The heat to my cheeks told me that I was blushing as I answered, "You mean my 'vagina' honey?"

He nodded, "I would like you to call it a 'cunt' or 'pussy' around me mom?"

The words that he wanted to use for my body parts were not an unexpected request - but I had only, ever, used them in the privacy of my marriage bed. Of course I knew they were common in adult literature and movies. My voice quivered as a I agreed, "I will try honey."

Gary pulled me against his bare chest for another firm hug as his hands fondled my smooth bare back. I must admit - I loved the touch as well, the intimacy and the closeness.

One of his hands eventually slipped down past my waist to my covered bottom and grasped me roughly. I uttered a squeal of surprise but Gary placed his lips near my ear and asked, "Did I do something wrong mother?"

Breathless, "No honey, you just surprised me." I could almost feel his wide triumphant smirk before the second hand followed the first so that both my ass cheeks were in his grasp and I was being properly mauled.

He was acting rather cocky today I realized, without any mirth.

"Oh god ... you feel so great mom!" He was pressing his hard penis ... cock, into my upper thigh and groin. I must admit that it was affecting me as well - as it had been years that I had felt a man's hardness against me - that I was left panting with desire.

My son was fully rutting against me now - standing before and against me, pulling me against him as his groin thrust forwards. Against my neck, his hot breath tickled my skin as he panted and grunted.

I did not even realize what he was doing until a second before he grunted like an animal and then froze. Another second afterwards, I felt that hard cock through three layers of our clothing jerking itself as my son let out a lengthy pleasure-filled sigh.

With embarrassment, he finally pulled away and before he turned I saw the wide wet dark circle in the front of his light gray sweatpants. He mumbled something about going to go do some homework and left me standing, out of breath and amazed at what had just happened.

My 'cunt' was on fire!

Every weekday was the same - Gary and I would leave the house together and I would drop him in front of his high school as I went on to work. That Monday morning was as normal as can be - though I did not know what to expect after my son climaxed in his pants from dry humping me.

As soon as the car was out of our garage, Gary slipped his hand across the front seat console and grasped my leg about mid thigh.

Evidently, he was over his embarrassment.

"Why don't you wear shorter skirts mom? I always thought you had great legs." He openly fondled the outside of my leg, from nearly my waist to my knee.

His off-hand compliment actually pleased me more than you may realize. It had always been my large breasts that had drawn mens, and of course my ex-husbands, eyes. They had dropped with the years from gravity, the nipples no longer pointed skywards for example. Sure it was one of my primary erogenous zones, but I had thought my legs were worth some mention - it was this comment from my son that was the first proof that a man had noticed the same.

Reluctantly I answered honestly, "They have a dress code at work honey - I would get into trouble."

I could feel his disappointment.

"But I could wear", first I would have to buy some, "short skirts just for you honey? When we go out?"

His enthusiasm was infectious, "Wow! That would be great mom!" I resolved to go shopping that very day, during my lunch break.

His fingers pulled my skirt up my legs until the hem stopped about half ways to my waist. The black nylon covered thighs exposed to his pleasure-filled gaze.

"Do you own any stockings mom?"