I'm a 48-year old single mother with a 24-year old son who is in a master's program in college. Ever since I divorced his father, the two of us have grown up close to each other. While I never paid much attention to him sexually as he grew up, I am now becoming aware of how masculine he was becoming. Each time he came home from college, I noticed his growing maturity and found myself thinking how well built he is, I even tried to imagine his sexual organ and how someday he would probably make a girl very happy. Sometimes when he was home, I would hear noises coming from his room and imagine him stroking. Other times, when washing his clothes, I saw tale-tale stains on his underwear and know for sure that he was masturbating. All these thoughts kept bouncing through my head and even though I tried not to think of my son, Jimmy, in a sexual way, I couldn't stop. I dated other men off and on over the past few years but I hadn't had sex for over a year and thinking of Jimmy, only made my body desires increase. It wasn't unusual to find myself masturbating more and more and thinking of sex with a younger man.
Threesomes, swinging, sharing. These sexual taboos were not usually discussed between my wife and I. We joked around about it as much as any couple, I suppose. We were comfortable enough to tease one another about an attractive celebrity, or sometimes even a passerby, but we never had a 'serious' conversation about extra marital sex. The fact that we were generally more conservative about that sort of thing made the reality of my cuckolding that much more shocking, and that much more exciting.
Emily sat on her bed trying to come to grips with what was happening to her body. Not since she'd had her first period had she been this traumatized by what was happening to her. The wet spots on her blouse slowly got bigger as she stared at her chest in the mirror. Even though she knew physiologically what was happening, it was still embarrassing. "How do I explain this to daddy?" She thought to herself almost in tears.
I was having a bad day.
I'd spilt coffee on myself on the drive to work. I'd gotten a rip in my nylons. And I'd forgotten my notes for tonight's interview.
My name is Sandra Carter, and if you live in the Philadelphia area, you've probably heard of me. I host an evening television show called 'Edgy Talk', and I'm fairly notorious for interviews that can border on the scandalous. My show is nothing like Jerry Springer's, but let's just say that the guests I interview are popular authors or other well-known forward thinkers, and they're far from stodgy. In movie terms, we don't get quite R-Rated, but we often stray pretty close. We don't throw chairs around, we just sit in them and discuss current topics with a twist, often taking questions and comments from the studio audience. My guests and I are often quite rude to them, and they love it. Even though tickets to the show are free, they're so sought-after they need to be obtained months in advance. The popularity of the show depends upon my guests' abilities to challenge traditional thinking, hence the name of the show.