A mother's confession - how it started

I have been wanting to make a public confession for a long time. If I am honest, part of this desire to tell the world may be me wanting to share this heavy burden, but I think if I am really very honest with myself, for better or worse, I want to confess because I want to remember.

How do I even begin my confession, I suppose by setting the scene. Firstly I am a mother of three, two boys and a girl, and at the time of me committing the most ultimate of taboos I was 47 years old. Let me also be clear, having read many of the submissions on this page, this is not some fake whimsical nonsense confession full of lust and orgasms, this is a story of how my psyche fractured to a point that led to some very wrong decisions.

I will not be giving any details of my son, other than to say when I first met him in the delivery room, this bright-eyed, curious boy who immediately was so happy and full of life, drew me to him in a way that his much older brother and sister did not. Maybe it was because I was told after my second I was not able to have any more kids. Or maybe it was because my older kids where starting to pull away from me. Regardless, as he grew up I started to acknowledge this pull to him that wasn't just the natural affection a mother might feel; it was something far more profound, something that defied easy categorization but in no way sexual. He was so different from his siblings, so introspective and sensitive, with a quiet strength that always captivated me. At the time I would have rather died than admit it but he became my favorite person in the family.

We really started to become much closer in the summer he had become terribly sick from meningitis and it was during that long recovery, at his lowest moments he would once again start looking at me like I was the only person he wanted to be around and it felt so good to be wanted again. You have to understand he was a typical teenager, who was growing up so quickly and drawing away from the family...from me. To make matters worse his father was always traveling and his siblings have by this time left the nest.

During that long recovery that need for me again became so addictive and I wanted more. I remember baking his favorite cookies and listening intently to his intricate explanations of whatever new fascination had captured his imagination. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, I become hooked on his attention and more importantly I became scared of losing it.

I remember realising just how addicted to his attention I had become when, while my husband was away, I had just stepped into the bathroom to take a shower and I noticed my sons shadow under the door. I immediately knew he was peeking through the key hole at me. On realising this, and without a moments thought, I turned completely to face the door and started to get undressed. Once completely naked, I stood there motionless for a moment so he could drink in my nudity. A long moment later I got into the shower and away from his peeping eyes.

It was not until the water hit my skin did I stop and think...was that a smart thing to do. You must know that it was never a sexual thing for me. I did it to make him happy, to make my unwell loving son happy. Put in the same position again, knowing what I knew then, I would make the same decision over and over again and although it was not sexual for me, it was still a monumental moment in our lives. This was the moment that I became aware he had no problem looking at his mother's nude body. At the time this was just noteworthy because by the end of the shower I had decided with confidence, that this was just a phase that would pass.

Then the worst thing possible happened. My husband and father to my son's and daughter passed away suddenly. And just like that our world was flipped up side down, everything changed. Over the next year we had to bury my husband, pack up the whole house, move into a tiny home just big enough for the both of us, go from being supported by everyone for the first six months to just the two of us by the end of the year and me having to become more involved in work. By the end of the year, my son and I were deep within our respective depressions and for me, the loneliness had become a massive unavoidable unfixable monster in my life.

I should pause here and provide some context as to why this last point was such a key point and played such a massive role in what happened next. Since I was a child I have never liked being alone but over time this transformed into a huge fear in my life. When my husband died all of a sudden this fear became reality. Even though I am close to my sister and have three children, everybody other than my youngest son, had lives to get back to, and they did. I know you will ask why didn't I go find some other partner and if you do it's because you don't understand. I was married for a long time and to just move on felt like I would be dishonoring my closest friend and partner. I knew eventually I would be ready to move on but not at this point and not for a few years. Regardless the loneliness and the fear of even more loneliness became like a darkness I could not avoid and the centre of almost all my thoughts.

After the anniversary of my husband's passing my son and I started to pick up from where we left off and started to become close once again. As the weeks went by, our bond began deepen. We started to share so many moments, some of the most special being the late-night talks on my bed while, discussing everything and nothing – his dreams, his fears, my advice (sometimes unsolicited, I admit!), and we became just comfortable to sit with each other, which is something most mothers don't get to experience with their teenage sons. I knew it was wrong and I will openly admit that I was using my son to keep the loneliness at bay. But getting home from work after a very long day only to be met with someone who loved cared and was interested in me was so very addictive.

The big takeaway from that time was that I began to cherish those moments with my son more than you could ever know, and there would be nothing I wouldn't do to have them continue. The irony was, the more time we spent together, the more fearful I became that he would revert back to being a normal teenage boy, with friends and a life outside of me. I also knew that with every passing day he was processing his dad's passing, becoming closer to school friends. Worse still, I also knew what he wanted from me and unless I started to give him something, I knew that he would have drawn away from me and I would be lonely again.

I know that what happened next was my fault but speaking honestly I also feel like a victim of circumstance. Loneliness with no hope of reprieve can be crushing at the best of times and for me I became obsessed with doing anything to avoid it. Regardless of the blame and mitigations, I decided to "entice" my son to stay with me, especially when things like guilt or tears started to have less effect. At first it was just a couple buttons on my blouse which I "forgot" to do up and maybe a little bending so he could see down my blouse.

But a problem quickly arose, each time I exposed myself to my son he would immediately become closer to me but this excitement would ware off eventually, so I would have to escalate in some way. In less than half a year I went from showing off a little cleavage to changing with my door slightly ajar, to wearing a swimsuit around the house (even though we don't have a pool), to spreading my legs under the table so that he could see up my skirt when he "dropped" something. The real problem, was that this strategy of escalation was ultimately putting me on a very dangerous pathway but it was working. My son was loving, supportive and more importantly the only one who was there for me.

Those six months culminated in a surprising development. One random Sunday night we got into my bed to watch a movie before bed time, which had become our Sunday ritual. Annoyingly to get this Sunday ritual going I did have to wear skimpier and skimpier pyjamas than I usually wear or prefer. And before you all get the wrong idea it was just shorter than normal night shirt but with my sexiest and most uncomfortable black lingerie underneath, which was clearly visible from the outside. And tonight I had added a deep V to my shirt which gave a lot cleavage for his eyes to consume, which he did more than the movie we were watching. This addition worked better than expected and when the movie came to an end I was expecting him to get out and go to his bed but instead he stated he was sleepy and asked if you could just sleep in the bed with me. Once again without even thinking I agreed, I turned out the light and went to sleep.

That night I had the best sleep I had in years. I was absolutely sure that my son had waited for me to go to sleep before fiddling with me but even that realisation did not dampen my joy from waking up to another person in my bed who loved me and wanted to spend time with me. That joy was so profound that that evening after work I went to the shops and bought a lot more bed time clothes. Some were not much different from what I had worn the night before but some were, to put it frankly, "fuck me" lingerie. It must be said that even though I bought that wildly inappropriate lingerie that was clearly designed for only one thing, I had absolutely no intention to have an intimate relationship with my son. I just wanted to make sure that I had enough allure to ensure that he would continue to be close to me and maybe have a few more sleep overs.

Say what you want and believe what you want but for me, I was overjoyed by the results of my purchases because they had the desired effect. Over the next few weeks my teenage son spent more time with me than he did with his friends, more time with me than my friends and family, hell he spent more time with me than my husband did. I loved it and yes I let my son objectify me to a large degree but he also spoke to me, cared for me and loved me. For every time he looked down my top there was a surprise cup of coffee, for every time he looked up my skirt there was a sincere request to hear how my day was and for every sleep over there was a warm hug the next morning.

The Sunday sleepovers went on for a few weeks and by the end I was wearing a not so conservative satin teddy and I was being woken up a few times during the night with my son trying to feel me up a little. But those sacrifices, to me, were well worth it. And then once again, I received yet another blow...my son came home and told me he had a date, next Friday.

Just like that, my fear of loneliness came crashing down over me like a tsunami. He was so excited and so taken and the more he spoke the more my fears took hold of my heart. The next week was torturous, he was so excited and the more excited he became the more upset I became. This led to me laying on the guilt, getting upset about silly things, I even tried a dating site but gave up out of guilt before I even finished registration.

So left with no other options, I resigned myself to work and loneliness and tried to be a supportive mother, which I did...for three whole days. But when he came back from his date with plans for another and talking about spending most of Saturday and Sunday out with her and his friends, that's when my mind started to break.

As the weekend went on that breaking got worse. On Sunday evening he got back and was talking about what a great weekend he was having and how much he couldn't wait until next weekend. That last comment destroyed what ever sanity I still had left. As I cooked dinner I processed everything and I became determined to not be a victim. So after dinner I made the first mistake of that night, I found that lingerie I had bought a few weeks before. With determination I attacked my goal, I got into the sexiest thing I have ever bought, something specifically designed to motivate the male mind. As I got into the vivid red strappy mesh set I did not even look in the mirror just in case I lost my nerve.

Having got dressed into my lingerie I put on my fake happy uncaring face and walked to my son's room as normally as I could. The moment I walked in and watched him openly and unashamedly stare at me, I new that for tonight he would not be thinking about anybody else but me. I asked him if he was going to be joining me for the Sunday night movie. Of course he agreed so as he got ready for bed I went to go get into mine. I sat up against the back board, pulled the covers up to my belly and turned on the TV. As I looked down at my lingerie covered breasts on display for my own son I, for the first time, questioned what I was doing. Just then my son walked in wearing just his pyjama bottoms (which was not uncommon) I saw that he had made me a coffee and got some ice cream for us and just like that, all thoughts left me.

He cuddled up next to me as per usual and we watched the moving eating our ice cream. For the first thirty minutes I was pleased that my plan was working as desired. Then I started to lose control of the situation, as soon as the ice cream was finished and bowls put away my son snuggled up to me even more and for the first time ever put his arm around my shoulders. Over the next fifteen minutes his hand creeped closer and closer to my breast. And then it happened, my son put his hand on my breast. Now I had a choice to make and I made the second mistake of that night and chose to do nothing and just enjoy the warmth of another body.

At first he did nothing, just left his hand there but then he started to play with my breast. First it was just subtle movements but then it escalated. He started to run his fingers around my entire breast and then he slipped his hand under the silk and mesh of my bra. I continued to say nothing as he started to play with my quickly hardening nipple. Then all of a sudden he pulled my breast out of my bra and that finally got a reaction out of me. Unfortunately it was a visceral reaction and it caused him to jump back and start apologising. He then started to move away and was about to climb out of bed before I put on my cool calm relaxed mother face and explained it was all cool, that I was just startled and he can go back to playing if he wants. Mistake number 3.

He relaxed, got back into the bed and thanked me for letting me play. Without hesitation he got back into the same position as before with his arm around me and his hand tugging teasing and tickling my now completely exposed breast. Even though I reminded him of the movie we were supposed to be watching his attention was firmly on my breasts. It did not take long before my next breast had been freed from its expensive lingerie prison. As he played with my breasts my anxiety levels skyrocketed while my body started to become aroused.

Just as a note to any young men reading this, to get a woman "horney" then you need to lower her anxiety before you stimulate the body. If you don't do the former she will never really be "in to" anything you are doing, no matter what she says. If you do both of those things though well, then be prepared for the best sex of your life.

Regardless of my anxiety, my body was responding and I think this was sending the wrong message to my son because all of a sudden playing with my breasts with his hands was not enough. He then pulled his arm away and moved so that he was sitting on my legs. Before I could do anything he leaned forward and took my nipple into my mouth and started sucking on my nipples. I let him carry on for a moment before gently asking him to let me finish the movie. He responded well to my request and moved back to his previous position. I was now nervous of what was to come next after the move but I was petrified of what would happen if I tried to stop it.

Eventually the movie came to an end and my son asked if he could spend the night. Of course I agreed, mistake number 4. As we turned out the lights and lay down my son did something I was not expecting. As I said good night he kissed me, deeply and passionately. This caught me off guard but I had not been kissed like this for some time. The intimacy, the passion and the love where wonderful. I kissed him back, in fact I didn't just kiss him back i kind of showed him how to kiss well. He pawed at my body like a hungry animal which was not particularly arousing but it was attention and closeness.

Now things started to escalate and quickly. The kisses kept my defences down which was a major problem because my son was preparing my body. My breast quickly got freed from my bra, then his hand found its way to my hot, sadly at this point wet, core. He started to rub my vagina with all the skill of a virgin. Barely a moment later, just as I started to process the idea that my son was now trying to stimulate the very pussy he came out of, the covers got thrown off, the both of us. He the then jumped up and with all the vigor of an aroused teenage boy pulled his pyjamas of and threw them to the ground. As he turned back to me to continue the kisses I then made mistake number 5 and I reached down and unhooked and removed my bra followed by pulling down my thong. As soon as my son realized I was naked for the first time he broke the kiss and for a long moment looked over my old naked body with a sort of wonder I had not seen since I was a virgin. Moment over, he climbed on top of me and softly and passionately kissed me once again. The kiss cort me off guard because it was slow and passionate, he took his time and it was genuinely wonderful which partially distracted me from his rigid cock pressed up against my pelvis

Why did I not stop this craziness!!! This is a question you may be asking and I can assure you is one I have asked myself a thousand times. My theory is that intimacy (not sex but intimacy meaning closeness, familiarity, friendship and love) with a loved one, of which I had missed dearly, can be a powerful wave that can sweep one up and somehow drown out all the voices of reason. Fear had got me into this position but now intimacy was carry me away...and carrying me straight into mistake number 6... I spread my legs wide apart.

I can't speak for all women but certainly for me, the legs control every situation with men. Depending how you dress them up or down you can entice or tease. Depending how you use them, you can leave them, invite them in or bring them to their knees with tears in there eyes. So knowing this, me spreading my legs was sending only one message... Enter me.

This was a message that my son did not miss. He pushed himself up to his hands and knees and started to fumble around, like a true virgin, as he tried to enter me. I took a deep breath and placed my hand on his cheek and reassured him, slowed him down and then with all the calmness I should have never had I slowly reached down between us and gently took hold of his erect penis and guided him to my entrance. I rubbed the head of his penis against my wet core to get it nice and wet. Having taken a virginity in the past I was well aware that the moment I let go of his cock he would insert himself into me with haste, no care for lubrication and it's importance. Once he was nice and coated in my moisture I released his cock and lay back.

In the blink of an eye and with the deep throaty groan of unadulterated pleasure, my son slid his young rigid cock into my waiting core. In the blink of an eye he literally became a "mother fucker". In the blink of an eye I had violated the law, my religion and the most sacred of duties entrusted to me by society. These thoughts would soon crush me but for the moment, this was very surprisingly tender. My son now deep inside of me did not move. I explained to him to take a few breaths and try to stay calm and if he felt overwhelmed to just stop and kiss me. He then gave me a very cute face and said "I love you mom" and then kissed me. As he kissed me I felt him in me and the sensation was definitely unlike anything I have ever felt.

For those of you without a vagina, let me explain why this statement is so important to stress. Sex for the first time for a woman, is a wildly strange sensation. To have a man's cock in you, to feel something in you where previously you felt nothing, to be sore, uncomfortable and yet eventually some how nice and pleasurable is such a weird thing. That sensation becomes evolved over time, the pain goes and the feeling gets mixed in with all the other elements of sex to be come one part of something great. But right at that moment I was very aware of my son's tongue entangled with mine in my mouth and his cock snuggly squeezed in my warm wet core. Just when my brain started to process this thought more, my son broke the kiss and started to move in and out of me.

I could see he was quickly becoming overwhelmed and the sensations both visual and physical were taking control of his teenage mind. My own body was reacting to the lovely sensations I was feeling and just like that I blurted out "do you like being back inside mommy?" He nodded enthusiastically and then I said "Mommy likes you being back inside her too, very very much." That interaction was not planned nor was it something I had even thought about and to this day I have no idea where that came from.

That being said at that time I did not care about where it came from I was starting to really enjoy the feeling, I was even moaning slightly as his actions started to stimulate my clitoris. But much like my first time, it all came to an end very quickly. My son blasted his seed deep into me with a loud grunt and a spasm of his body. He collapsed onto me as he recovered from his first time. This moment was actually extremely beautiful, I felt so close to him, so loved and the feel of his warm body on mine made me more happy than I had been for some time.

How we got to that moment was incredibly wrong but now that we were there I had little regrets. And then that moment got obliterated and all of the horrors of what we had just done came crashing down on us both. The moment was gone and it was replaced with the realisation that we, a mother and son, had just had sex. The horror started with him, he pushed himself up from me and it was then that I saw his face. That face still haunts me today, even though we moved on and managed to create a healthy relationship that did involve a sexual element, it still makes me feel sick. It was a face that is hard to describe but a mixture of confusion, horror and deep overwhelming regret.

I stared with horror as he extracted himself from within me. My world felt like it was disintegrating in front of me. As the pit in my stomach developed and the tears started to roll down my face all I could say was "oh God, oh God oh God" my son collapsed next to me. I rolled over, away from my son and tried to cover my naked body with my hands while starting to sob. My son lay still for a moment before eventually asking if he should still spend the night. I immediately and way to harshly told him to go sleep in his room. Just before he left my room he did quietly say "I love you" before he left the room. On hearing this I burst into a loud and uncontrollable cry.

That night was the worst night of my life. The horror of my betrayal caused me to throw up, forced me to have a long shower as I tried to wash my son's seed out and away from my body. I only managed to sleep for an hour or so with the rest of my time crying and replaying every single stupid mistake I made this night and all the mistakes I have made with my son since his father died. It is not surprising that I will always consider that night as my lowest point of my life.

From this point it did get better... A lot better, and although I don't like how we got there, I am today happy where my son and I managed to get to. But for now I will end this confession here. I may continue because there are some very happy memories to recall but I may not because let's be honest the Internet and some of the people on it suck.