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Thank you to Jen for the inspiration for this story.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years or older when in sexual situations.
“Why don’t you date again?”
It’s a question that’s been posed to me virtually every day from the time my divorce from my former husband Nils became final, some five years ago.
My pat answer is, “I’m not interested in another long-term relationship.”
It’s a lie.
I am interested in a long-term relationship. In fact I’m in one.
It’s a secret that’s been bottled up inside me for five long years. I’m writing this story as my way of unburdening myself of this deep, dark secret. It’ll now be our secret to share until my dying breath.
Hella is short for Helga, a Swedish name (and nickname) that was given to me by my mother Helga. It’s a family name that’s spanned four generations. My grandparents emigrated from Sweden to Minnesota back in the 40’s, setting down roots in a small town about an hour’s drive from Minneapolis. Our town was a tight knit one, revolving around our Lutheran church and the church’s co-ed softball team.
My parents Lars and Helga, as the first generation born in the United States, assimilated in this country more easily than my grandparents, who still spoke their native tongue at home. My father was a skilled tradesman, a carpenter, and my mother, a librarian in my grade school. It was a pretty insulated childhood growing up in a small town with a large Swedish contingent. It was in high school when I discovered the opposite sex. Yes, being Swedish I had naturally blonde hair, blue eyes, and an ample bust that attracted the attention of many of the boys in class. I was quite shy and didn’t know how to deal with this unwanted attention. I met my future husband, Nils Karllson, in my high school math class. He was sitting next to me and befriended me when we were assigned together on a class project. The friendship morphed into more during our senior year, and it was the night of my eighteenth birthday that I lost my virginity to him.
The party itself could have been a staid affair. My mother arranged it, with my father barbequing in the backyard by the pool. There were about thirty people at the party, and many of them had brought hard liquor in flasks. My parents retired to the house sometime in the early evening, and by late evening all of my classmates were feeling no pain. There were two boys, Nils and Marty, and me, left at the end of the party. It was probably 10:30 p.m., so my parents were already in bed. By my senior year I’d filled out to a 34D. Marty, with raging hormones and a belly full of Jack Daniels, decided to make his move. I was wearing a tight fitting low cut white top and jeans. Marty, all 6’3″ of him, stumbled towards me. He was able to catch himself by putting his left hand on my shoulder. Somehow, despite his drunkenness and clumsiness, he was able to navigate his right hand inside my top and under my bra, copping a good feel of my breast and nipple.
Ordinarily I would have slapped him and that would have been that. But it wasn’t an ordinary moment in my life. It was my eighteenth birthday party. I had been drinking for four hours. I did what a newly minted woman would do when drunk – I kissed him.
He was caught off guard by my reaction, probably half expecting a slap to the face. Then I whispered in his ear, “Rumors have it that you have a small dick. You’re going to prove those folks wrong, aren’t you?” He pulled his hand out of my bra, backed away, and made up some lame excuse and left. It’s the last I saw of him. That left me with Nils, who hadn’t been drinking. He was the one I wanted.
Nils was happy to see that Marty had left. He shared with me that he was hoping to have some alone time with me. He was a strapping young man, also of Swedish descent, blond hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders and a large stature. Despite his hulking presence, he was also one of the smartest kids in school, taking all of the advanced placement classes I was in.
Nils suggested that we go into the pool house. It was a small room, no larger than ten by ten, with pool toys and floats in it. We had already had a number of make-out and pettings session in that room, so we were both comfortable in it. I had already decided that Nils was going to be my first. It wasn’t a particularly memorable coupling, though since it was my first I had it committed to memory. I took off my top and bra and with us standing and facing each other he excitedly started pawing at my breasts. I reached down to feel that his hardened penis was about to burst through the fabric of his pants. ataşehir escort bayan He had me lay down on one of the foam floats and to shimmy out of my pants and panties. There was no foreplay. He guided his cock between my legs. Because I was somewhat drunk and we hadn’t done any petting I was pretty dry down there, and his penetration was painful, both from the lack of lubrication and it being my first time. After the second stroke he pulled out of me and came on my stomach. So much for young love.
Fortunately the second time was much better, and having no point of reference I thought that sex with Nils was good. We went to college together, and during that time got married. After graduation we moved to a suburb of Minneapolis in a starter home in a planned development. Most of our neighbors were our age. We had Chase shortly after moving there so in short order we had a large group of friends where life revolved around our young children. I will say it, not as a boast, but as a reason my marriage with Nils was knocked off kilter, that I was the looker in the group. At that point in time we were in our mid-20’s so the men weren’t far from their hormonal peak. I had 34D’s, which after the birth of our son Chase, blossomed into 36DD’s. Being naturally blonde, with blue eyes and first rate knockers, it was difficult to avoid men, and even older boys, from flirting with you. I’m the first to admit I’m not perfect and did enjoy the attention so I did flirt back, but for me it was harmless. For Nils, who was a good looking man in his own right, it wasn’t harmless. His blood pressure would go up with he could see his friends lustily eyeing my breasts, and would become even more enraged when I would encourage it. Nils was weak. Instead of confronting his jealousies he strayed, having an affair with a neighbor that ultimately resulted in me asking for a divorce. I was devastated by the affair and then the divorce.
Our son Chase was an innocent bystander to this drama. He was a witness to it his entire life, and the last chapter played out when he had just graduated from high school. That’s the year I found out my husband of twenty years had been having an affair for the past five. My most vivid memory of this dark time was the night I found out, and found out by accident. I’m the one to pay the bills in the family and review our credit card statements. I saw that Nils had incurred a charge at a local hotel that I thought was a mistake because he had no reason to stay at a local hotel. I called the credit card company. I told them about the suspect charge and requested they reverse it. The woman on the other end was sympathetic, but advised me to talk to the hotel before I protested the charge. She said in no uncertain terms that she was familiar with this situation and that the charge might be legitimate. I was offended at the inference that Nils might be cheating on me, but nevertheless called the hotel’s front desk. The person at the front desk gave me the answer I didn’t want to hear. She replied cheerily, “Oh yes, we’re familiar with Mr. Karllson. He’s a regular here.” It turns out that Nils was seeing a woman he’d met at the local health club and for the past five years had been meeting her at this hotel. One time he forgot to use the credit card he secured just for charges related to his mistress, where the statements were sent to his office, and mistakenly used the family credit card. I confronted Nils with this information when he came home at 6:00. By 6:30 I was watching him pack his bag and leave for a friend’s house. He never came back.
That night, about a half hour Nils was walked out of the house, I was upstairs crying in my bedroom, sitting at my dressing table, wearing my negligee, with the door ajar. I didn’t see Chase come in to comfort me. I saw his reflection in the dressing table’s mirror, his six foot plus frame towering over me. I saw his eyes, staring down the top of my negligee, at my breasts, which were heaving with each sob.
“Don’t cry Mom. Dad’s being an asshole,” he said reassuringly, now putting his hands on my shoulders. His touch felt good. Nils hadn’t touched me in so long that I couldn’t remember the last time, and my body was longing for the touch of a man. To have my son kneading my shoulders with his strong grip distracted me from my pain. I turned my head and looked up to him, the motion stretching my body and exposing more of my chest to his gaze. I felt his penis hardening, stiffening as he leaned against my back. My guard, which had been down, told me this was going down a road that I didn’t want to go down. I rose up out of my seat and walked away from him until we were a good ten feet apart.
“I know your father’s had some serious issues to work through, and it looks like our marriage is one of the casualties,” I told him, wiping a tear from my eye.
“I’m not surprised,” my son replied, his eyes having difficulty turning away from my breasts. “It’s been a long time coming.”
“I escort kadıöy know,” I said. “I’m so sorry that you had to witness this.”
“It’s not your fault Mom. I guess Dad just couldn’t get over the jealousy.”
I was surprised by his observation. “You saw it?”
“Of course. I’m not blind. Mom, you’re hot, and Dad couldn’t stand the attention you were getting. It’s my guess that he had to step out of the marriage to get the attention he craved.”
My son called me hot. That was a first. He was also right about Nils. “You’re wise beyond your years,” I told him.
“Not really. I have two eyes.”
“Well, I appreciate your support,” I said, the crying jag now over. “Let me clean myself up and let’s see if we can find something to eat downstairs.”
“Sure,” he said as he left my room.
We shared some left over pizza. I opened a bottle of wine. Not surprisingly, I ended up having too much to drink that night. His offhand comment about me weighed on me until the wine finally loosened my tongue. “You said I was hot. Did you mean it?”
Chase rolled his eyes, the mannerism I’ve seen a legion of times when he thinks I’m clueless. “Of course. Everyone knows you’re hot. All of my friends tease me about you.”
“In what way?” I was vulnerable and tipsy. I wanted details. I wanted my shattered ego to be rebuilt.
He screwed up his face as if I was asking him to reveal a state secret. “Do I really need to tell you?”
“I want to know. I think my ego needs a boost right now.”
“Well, OK,” he said as he shrugged his shoulders. “This is weird saying this to you, but my buddies call you a MILF.”
“Does that mean what I think it means?”
“Do you think I’m a MILF?”
“Mom, you’re my mother. I don’t think of you that way.”
I was embarrassed that I asked the question. “You’re right. My question was way out of bounds. I’ve been drinking. I’m sorry.”
“No problem. That was a weird question,” he said as he shook his head and left the room.
The drinking just allowed me to say what I was thinking. I was about to proposition my son. I was glad my son had the good sense to shut it down before something was said that couldn’t be taken back. I went to my room with a light head, the alcohol still putting me in a foggy, fuzzy world. I took a shower, hoping it would clear my mind. I couldn’t believe that I had actually considered having my son as my lover. The hot water did nothing to cool my ardor. Rather it inflamed my passions, making me feel good about my latent and forbidden desire. I was lying in bed, unable to go to sleep, images of his young, lean body racing through my mind. I felt that I was at a breaking point, and that if I didn’t relieve the tension building up inside me that I would explode. I put my hands on the waistband of my pajama bottoms and slipped them off, feeling the warm air under the covers mix with the pool of wetness between my legs.
I reached over to my nightstand drawer and pulled out my trusty vibrator. It had become a reliable companion as it had been months since Nils and I had had sex. I switched it on, running it lightly over my clit. I almost jumped out of bed, the sensitivity of my body being as high strung as a cat. I allowed myself the indulgence of letting my mind wander. Thoughts don’t necessarily translate into actions, I told myself. These were my secret thoughts – the ones that I would never tell anyone, especially my son. I had seen my son nude before rather recently, catching a glimpse as he slipped on his bathing suit when his bedroom door was open. I thought about what his large flaccid cock would have looked like fully erect, and what I would have done with it. The scene unfolded vividly in my mind. He was stepping into his bathing suit. I walked in his open bedroom door. He would look up at me with a puzzled look on his face. He would get ready to say something. I would put my finger across his lips. I would see the recognition in his face of my intentions. I would shut the door behind me. I would stand in front of him, and looking him in the eyes, pull my blouse over my head and shrug off my bra, flaunting my tits in front of his wide open eyes, allowing him to reach forward and cradle one, then the other, in the palm of his hand, feeling his gentle touch sending a sizzle of pleasure through me. I would kneel in front of him, using only my lips to capture his cock in my mouth, sucking in its entire length and using my hands to caress his scrotum, watching his eyes close and a soft moan to escape his lips. I would then use my hands to grip and squeeze the globes of his muscular ass, pulling him toward me as his cock hardened and the massive head penetrated my throat, sliding in as I gagged and dripped saliva on his bedroom floor.
“Mom,” he would croak, “I’m going to cum.”
It would be my cue to stop. I wanted more than just oral sex. I put my perverted fantasy on maltepe escort hold as I inserted the vibrator into my sopping wet cunt, sliding it in and out as I imagined it was his bar of steel probing the depths of my womb. I pumped the vibrator in and out of me as I pictured it was his cock driving into me with great urgency, him wanting to cum deep inside me.
“Fuck me Chase,” I cried out loud, thankfully to an empty room, as waves of pleasure crested and fell until I could take no more. I let the vibrator slide out of me as I drifted off into a contented sleep, not to awaken until morning.
The next morning I woke up. The bedroom lights were still on. My vibrator was resting next to my leg, and there was a large dark spot on my sheets. I couldn’t believe that I had actually taken the first step to seducing my son and had masturbated to its imagined completion. Telling myself it was wrong was of no comfort in my agitated state.
My job allowed me to momentarily take my mind off of Chase. There were a different set of challenges at work. I was an insurance adjuster with a major insurance company, and my direct supervisor, Rick, was always supportive of me, and allowed me the time off of work to deal with my personal issues with Nils. He was also recently divorced, and understood that dealing with the issues head on was much preferred to letting them fester. I rewarded his understanding with my productivity at work, settling a much higher percentage of my claims within thirty days than anyone else in the office. Rick was a good looking man in his mid-40’s, suffering from the common afflictions of middle age with a bit of a paunch and thinning hair, and I knew from stolen glances that he was infatuated with my body. He was currying favor with a large business account and asked me to accompany him to a dinner at a high end Italian restaurant. I accepted, knowing that his agenda was both winning the account and perhaps advancing our relationship beyond one of mere co-workers. As to the latter, I wasn’t really interested as my thoughts were with Chase, but I accepted nevertheless out of both a sense of duty and an acknowledgement of Rick’s unwavering support over the past year.
That evening I got ready for the dinner, picking out a dress that I’d worn to a wedding – light blue, cut slightly above the knee, and low cut enough to show a fair amount of cleavage. I found my one hour pumps; pumps with four inch heels that I could wear for about an hour before I had to take them off. I put on my night time make-up and made my way down the stairs to leave. Chase was sitting in the kitchen and spotted me on my way out.
“Hey Mom, looking good.” Chase was eating a sandwich and was holding it with one hand and a can of soda in the other.
I decided to detour to the kitchen to say goodbye. “Thanks, honey. I’ll be back late.” I kissed him on the cheek.
I laughed. “I haven’t been on a date in twenty years. This is a business dinner.”
I could see his eyes travelling to my cleavage. “Yeah right. A business dinner,” he said sarcastically.
“Well, mind your own business. I’ll be home late, so don’t wait up for me.”
“That’s a good one Mom. Have fun.” He went back to devouring his sandwich. I stole another glance at him, chiding myself for doing so.
Rick came by my house to pick me up. He pulled up in a black late model German coupe. He was old school. He went around to the passenger door and opened it for me. He was wearing a well-tailored navy sport coat and tie, a crisp white dress shirt, black slacks and tasseled loafers, a classic look that suited him. He flashed a big smile, and there was no mistaking his intent when I went to sit in the passenger side seat and with him standing over me his eyes travelled to my breasts, which I’m sure looked good from his topside angle. Rick innocently placed his hand on my shoulder as I got in, then pulled it back to close the door.
The trip to the restaurant was uneventful but the sexual tension was palpable. Rick knew I was separated from my husband and his interest in me was unmistakable. The client, a wealthy man in his 60’s who had founded a successful building maintenance company, was in the market for a new insurance carrier, and Rick thought my presence would help him make the sale. He assumption was well placed. The client took more interest in me than he did in the sales pitch, although he promised at the end of the dinner that he would take Rick’s proposal to his attorneys to review, which made Rick a very happy man. My boss ordered an expensive bottle of champagne to celebrate, and after two glasses of wine with dinner and then two glasses of champagne I was feeling no pain. By the end of dinner Rick was unabashedly fixated on my tits. He paid the bill and we went outside to retrieve his car from the parking valet.
“Hella, I’m sure you know this, but you look ravishing tonight.”
“Why thank you Rick. It’s nice to hear a compliment from a gentleman.” I thought that perhaps calling him a gentleman would check his amorous intentions.
He slipped his arm around me and pulled me against his hip. “I know a great club in town. How would you like to have another bottle of great champagne with me?”
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