That Can't Be Right Pt. 01

That Can't Be Right

by Pan

Gwen knew that every parent was surprised to wake up one day and find their kids all grown up, but it still shocked her. Less than a year earlier, Zack had been a scrawny, awkward teenager. Even when he'd entered his senior year, she could still see the remnants of the lanky boy he'd been for over a decade.

But he turned eighteen and was suddenly... a man. One growth spurt was all it took for him to tower over her, and after what felt like two weeks of regularly going to the gym his arms and chest grew thick and muscular, and he had abs.

Her baby boy had abs.

But it seemed like as soon as Gwen's son gained his new physique, he became a total ass. He'd always been such a polite kid, but along with his muscles came a whole new attitude. There was a smirk in the place of his once-shy smile, and his kind nature was replaced by rudeness--and not just to his mother.

That was what made Gwen realize she had to do something. Zack had started dating (with his new body, he seemed to have plenty of options), and she witnessed him being disrespectful to his girlfriend, Harper.

"Zack," she said, after watching him crudely slap his girlfriend's ass as she left. "Come here."

He was wearing jeans and a tight shirt. He looked just like his father: dark hair and brown eyes, a strong chin, and a crooked smile. It wasn't a surprise that women let him treat them like trash, but that didn't make it acceptable.

"What's up, Mom?"

"I don't like the way you treat Harper," she said without preamble. "It's not how I raised you, and I'm not going to put up with it. Do you understand?"

Zack looked at her with a cocked eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't want to see you slapping her ass anymore. I don't want you talking down to her, or calling her a..."

What had he said earlier? Oh, right.

"... a-a hot piece of ass."

Zack's eyes flashed. "But she is a hot piece of ass, Mom," he said. "Have you seen her?"

"That's not the point. The point is, I expect you to treat women with respect, not to speak to them like--"

Her son, staring her directly in the eyes, cut her off.

"She loves it, Mom," he said firmly.

Gwen blinked twice.

"What?"

"She loves being called a slut. She loves it when I slap her ass. Harper is crazy about the way I treat her like a piece of meat and put her in her place. She wouldn't have it any other way."

Gwen was speechless. She'd expected Zack to push back, or sulk, or tell her she didn't understand. But no part of her had anticipated that he'd just... own it.

She tried to understand what he was saying, to see if there was any other way it could be interpreted. She'd noticed, of course, that Harper was a beautiful girl. She resembled Gwen when she was younger: long black hair, wide hips, and an enormous bust.

Gwen had spent her entire life doing all she could to hide her huge breasts. Even at Harper's age, she'd dressed in the least flattering clothes she could, not wanting the attention of boys her age--or worse, older men.

Harper had no such compunctions. If anything, she dressed to show off.

Gwen tried not to judge the teenage girl for that; she, more than anyone, knew how hard it was to find the balance. As a teen, she'd worn a bikini to the beach, and spent the next year fighting off accusations of deliberately dressing like a slut. She was hardly about to accuse Harper of the same.

But no, her son was saying... well, there was no other way of interpreting it. He was claiming that he mistreated Harper because, for some reason... she wanted it.

"Women love being degraded," Zack said, his eyes burning into his mother's.

Gwen gasped. Maybe he was right about Harper. Maybe her son's boyfriend had some kind of... degradation fetish. Perhaps she was exploring her sexuality, experimenting with being treated like a piece of meat. She could understand Harper specifically having such proclivities, but now her son was stating it as a universal fact, as though all women were like that.

"That can't be right," she said. In response, her son just raised his eyebrow.

For the rest of the day, her son's words swam through Gwen's head. Was her son right about his girlfriend? Were his crude words and actions some kind of shared... 'kink'?

Gwen didn't like to think of her son having sexual thoughts at all, let alone a fetish, but watching him and Harper interact made it impossible to avoid.

He was definitely disrespecting her, but if she wanted him to... if most women, even, wanted that...

Gwen shook her head.

No. No. Zack was wrong. Harper didn't love it; she was just going along with it. That was the problem with being young and female: you were taught to just... put up with boys like her son. When Harper got older, she'd realize what she'd been manipulated into and hate him for it.

But it was more than that. Zack thought it was a universal trait of women. No one had ever told him otherwise. Gwen knew with absolute certainty that most women did not want to be degraded like that. Gwen, for example, wanted to be treated with respect.

Right?

When Harper came over the next day, she was wearing tight yoga pants and a low-cut white top. Gwen could see the outline of Harper's bra beneath it, her cleavage practically spilling out of the shirt. Zack was openly staring at Harper's ass and tits, and when he affectionately growled, "You absolute slut," part of Gwen still hoped that Harper would be embarrassed or insulted.

Nope. In response, she just giggled and shot Zack a look of desire.

She loved it. She loved being treated like that.

No, Gwen told herself. That wasn't right. He was just... she was...

But when Zack spanked her ass, Harper did more than just take it--she giggled and pushed her body against him, clearly signaling that she wanted more.

"You're such a little whore," Zack whispered, loudly enough that his mother could hear from the other side of the living room. Gwen turned a deep red and made an excuse to leave.

The teenage couple didn't even seem to notice.

"Your whore," Harper purred, before giving a soft yelp of pleasure.

When Gwen returned a few minutes later, Harper was sitting on Zack's lap, his hands roaming her body, excitement in her eyes.

Despite his mother's presence, Zack didn't stop.

For the rest of the week, whenever Harper was around, Gwen made sure to stay close. And everything she saw seemed to confirm her son's assessment. No matter what he did, whether he was treating her roughly, calling her names, or even spanking her ass in front of Gwen, Harper seemed to love it.

She loved it.

As Zack's behavior intensified, as his disrespect grew and he hid his sexual intentions less and less, Harper's responses grew more encouraging. Finally, Gwen had to admit that it was true: Harper loved the way Zack treated her. She loved being degraded.

It was a phase, Gwen told herself. Perhaps some young women liked to be treated like that, but they grew out of it. It wasn't like all women loved being degraded. It couldn't be a universal trait, because Gwen didn't have it. She never wanted to be treated like that.

No matter how much fun Harper made it look.

Gwen was waiting up when her son returned from his date.

"What's up, Mom?" Zack asked, a gleam in his eye.

"Harper shouldn't dress like that," Gwen said firmly. "It's not appropriate."

As Zack's behavior had gotten worse, Harper had begun to push the limits of taste. When they'd left for the cinema that night, the teenage girl had been wearing shorts so short that her butt peeked out, and a shirt so low-cut that her entire cleavage was on display.

And with tits like Harper's (and Gwen's), that was a lot of cleavage.

"Like what, Mom?"

"Like a slut," Gwen snapped, the word coming to her lips unbidden. Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd said... and she blushed as she realized how Harper would've reacted to Zack calling her that.

Slut.

Slut.

"She's dressing like a slut," Gwen repeated, deciding to own it.

Zack met her gaze firmly. "What's wrong with that?"

"It's degrading," Gwen said, reddening at the word she'd chosen. Degrading. Harper must love it. All women did.

No. No, she was... she had to stay focused.

"It's inappropriate for a woman to dress that way," she continued, trying to maintain eye contact with her son. His eyes were boring into hers--had they always been so dark? "It attracts undue attention."

"That's why she does it," Zack replied calmly. "She likes the attention."

Gwen blinked twice.

"What?"

"She says that nothing turns women on as much as being ogled. She says that when I look at her, she feels like she's in heat. Nothing gets a girl going as much as the feeling of my eyes on her exposed skin."

Gwen's mouth was dry. "That can't be right," she said.

Zack didn't respond, just raised an eyebrow.

Gwen knew that Zack's words meant nothing. He was a horny teenager; of course he was convinced that every woman should dress like a sex object. She knew she had a lot of work to do, if she was going to fight the misogyny that had somehow taken root in her son.

But the next day, as Gwen crossed the street, she noticed a man's eyes drop to her chest, and felt herself grow warm.

Zack was wrong, she told herself. Obviously. And yet...

And yet...

Over the next week, she kept noticing men staring at her, and her body responded to their gaze every time. It wasn't that their eyes felt good on her--it was the opposite. She hated the feeling, and her body was reacting negatively.

That's why she grew warm. She was embarrassed. That's why she felt tingly; it was self-consciousness.

That was all it was. There was no other explanation.

Gwen was a professional, intelligent, mature woman, and she wouldn't let her son's misogyny get under her skin. She was better than that.

So when she awoke flushed and sweaty one night, soaking wet because of the dream she'd been having, she didn't think anything of it. She'd dreamed of being naked in public, hundreds of men staring at her exposed body... but it was just a dream. It didn't mean anything.

And when she reached between her legs and began tugging at her pubic hair, she didn't connect it to her son's words. Her body just needed release. That was a natural function, and certainly didn't have anything to do with the attention she'd found herself noticing all week. Or the way her son looked at Harper.

Or the way her son looked at her when he thought she wasn't watching.

As the week continued, it began happening more and more. The dreams, the nighttime masturbation... and the attention from her son.

He was subtle about it, at first; just glances, as they went about their days. And he didn't look embarrassed when Gwen noticed. He'd just always smirk, as if he knew something that she didn't.

It made sense, she told herself. He was a man... well, a boy, really. And even though she was his mother, she was a woman, and she was built like a woman. It made sense for him to take a peek at her chest from time to time, it didn't mean anything.

But then the glances started coming more often, and they lasted longer. And when Gwen would meet her son's eyes, he wouldn't look away. He was confident. He wasn't ashamed.

Over the week, the dreams started to change.

They didn't stop being about public exposure or the tingly feeling she got from the attention she got for her exposed body. Instead, the crowds of leering men became one single, masculine figure. One figure that looked more and more like her son.

One figure who began to act more and more like her son.

In the new dreams, Zack was as disrespectful and domineering as he was with his girlfriend. And, despite how wrong it was, the dream Gwen seemed to enjoy the treatment.

The dream Gwen didn't want him to treat her with respect. She didn't want to be given space, or privacy, or dignity.

She wanted him to stare. She wanted him to check her out, to make her feel like a piece of meat.

They were just dreams, Gwen told herself each morning. Her subconscious was confused. She just had to ignore it.

Even if her body couldn't.

She knew it was wrong--she knew it was wrong--but she started to wonder if Zack had been right about something. The attention of men was flattering, she could admit that now, but there was something different about the way her son looked at her.

Perhaps... perhaps because he was her son.

Gwen was his mother. He wasn't attracted to her as a person. So when he ogled her--whether in her dreams or in real life--she was just a body to him, a body to be admired.

A body to be lusted after.

He didn't want her, he wanted her body.

Another week passed, and Gwen slowly began to accept what was happening to her. She'd never felt that way before, but there was no point in denying it. She loved it. She loved the attention of men.

And she particularly loved the attention of her son.

She loved the way his gaze would linger on her body, how his eyes would travel up and down her figure, how he'd smile and lick his lips at the sight of her. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help it. It made her feel beautiful, desired. Young.

At night, she dreamed of her son admiring her body and degrading her with his eyes. More and more, her days began to match her nighttime reveries--she'd go downstairs and find her son sitting in the living room, and instead of averting his gaze, he'd stare at her. He'd openly stare at his own mother's body, and she'd let him.

And every part of her would tingle at the attention.

Gwen started becoming aware of how dowdy her clothing was. She was so careful to dress in ways that hid her curves, that protected her skin from view. One morning, as she was getting dressed, nothing in her wardrobe felt right. All her outfits were too... too...

Well, she didn't know what. But whatever it was, they were too much of it.

Gwen found herself digging into the back of her closet until she found an outfit she hadn't worn in almost twenty years, since before having Zack.

It wasn't anything particularly scandalous, a pair of jeans and a button-up blouse. It was the type of outfit that would have been appropriate on a woman in her twenties, maybe. But Gwen was forty-two. She was a professional, not someone who should be dressing like... dressing like...

When she looked in the mirror, she was surprised to see that the jeans were so tight they looked like they'd been painted on. The blouse, too. She must have gained weight since she last wore it; the top two buttons couldn't even close over the swell of Gwen's breasts. She was showing more cleavage than she ever had before in her life.

It looked amazing.

Part of Gwen was screaming to change back into her usual outfit: a pair of loose-fitting slacks and a frumpy shirt. Part of her felt that her outfit was wrong, scandalous.

Slutty. Degrading.

Hot.

She ignored that part of herself, left her room, and found Zack sitting in the kitchen, smirking at his phone. He hadn't shaved that morning and was dressed in gym shorts and a tight tank top that showed off his biceps. Gwen was struck, once again, by what a good-looking young man he'd grown into.

If only he'd kept the sweetness he'd had as a child.

As Zack's eyes ran over her outfit, Gwen realized he wasn't hiding it anymore--neither of them was. As he stared, she posed for him, pushing her chest forward, arching her back. He looked at her in the way no son should look at his mother. He was looking at her the way he looked at Harper.

She'd never been so turned on in her life.

"You look hot, Mom," Zack said, and Gwen needed to grasp the door frame for support.

"Thank you," she whispered, and as she turned to leave the room, she could feel Zack's eyes on her ass.

Never in her life had Gwen felt so much like a piece of meat. As she drove to work, the man in the lane next to her stared openly at her. When she got out of the car, the sun was warm on her exposed skin, and the tingle between her legs refused to go away. When she walked into her office, heads turned and eyes widened, and her colleagues greeted her warmly, complimenting her on her outfit.

When she sat down at her desk, she had to close her eyes and take a few deep breaths. Her heart was racing a mile a minute.

It was crazy. Absolutely insane. But her son had been right.

She loved it. She loved the attention.

Her co-worker came up to her and raised an eyebrow. They were the same age and had bonded over being single. Now, Stephanie looked at her friend with a bemused grin. Steph's blouse was low-cut and tight, though her breasts were a quarter the size of Gwen's.

"Did my fashion sense rub off on you?" she asked teasingly.

"No..." Gwen said. "I just... I decided it was time for something different."

Stephanie laughed. "That's different, all right. You look amazing."

Gwen blushed, surprised at the effect that even female attention was having on her. She'd never felt this way before. She'd never known how much power there was in showing a little skin.

"I'm going to have to get you to go out on the town with me," Steph added. "We could be wing-women. And with those tits of yours, we'd have our pick of the litter."

Gwen blushed. Her chest had always felt like a burden she was forced to carry. But now, she was beginning to wonder if that had been a mistake. Maybe she should have been flaunting it all these years instead of hiding it. Perhaps she should have been using her body to turn men's heads.

How different would things be if she'd been treating her breasts as an asset instead of a liability?

"Maybe," she replied, giving her friend a small smile. "We'll see."

As soon as her friend left, Gwen power-walked to the bathroom, her head spinning at the idea of going out with Stephanie, flaunting her body, feeling the eyes of strangers on her. It was a crazy idea. But at the same time...

She made her way into the stall, closed her eyes, and slid a hand down her pants.

Gwen had never done this before, either. She'd never masturbated in public. She'd never masturbated at work.

But she couldn't resist. She had to touch herself.

She had to cum.

It wasn't long before her climax filled her body. As she came, it was with the image of her son in her mind, the way he had looked at her that morning, the way his eyes had roamed over her body. She knew it was wrong. She knew she shouldn't be thinking about her son that way. She knew it was insane to orgasm to the idea of Zack eyeing her like a piece of meat.

But she did it anyway.

Gwen felt like she was in heat. Nothing had ever gotten her going as much as the feeling of Zack's eyes on her exposed skin.

Thankfully, no one had come in, because Gwen hadn't been quiet. It took her another few minutes to catch her breath, before she zipped her pants up, washed her hands, and returned to work.

The rest of the work day passed in a haze of lust, and when it finally ended, Gwen didn't go straight home. Instead, she went to the mall.

She didn't want to go back to her old wardrobe. She wanted to wear the sorts of clothes she'd seen on Harper. She wanted to wear the sorts of clothes she'd seen Steph squeeze herself into. She wanted to dress the part of a woman in her prime, a sexual being who was not ashamed of her body.

By the time Gwen left, her credit card was maxed out, and her panties were soaked.

Chapter 2:

Gwen returned home one night to hear the sound of female moaning coming from her son's room. She set her bags down and crept upstairs, shocked that he would be so audacious, so disrespectful. Her son knew the rules of the house--he was allowed to have a girlfriend over, but only when his mother was home, and only in the public areas of the house.

Not in his room.

And certainly not with what sounded like a woman having the best sex of her life.

Gwen put down her bag and crept upstairs. The closer she got to her son's room, the louder the sounds of pleasure grew.

She had to confront him about this. She had to tell Zack that his behavior was unacceptable, that it was not respectful of women, that she wouldn't allow him to treat her home like his personal brothel.

It wasn't until she was standing in the hallway that she realized two things:

Firstly, Zack wasn't breaking the rules of the house--his doorway was open.

And secondly, while she'd made it very clear that he wasn't allowed to have a girlfriend alone in his room... it wasn't Harper's voice coming from her son's bedroom.

Her heart pounding in her ears, Gwen peeked around the corner.

A woman wearing nothing but a pair of yoga pants was sitting on Zack's bed while he sucked on her tits. Her head was thrown back in pleasure, her eyes were closed, and the look on her face made it clear that she was in ecstasy.

It wasn't Harper.

It was the woman who lived next door, Tasha. Her breasts were smaller than Harper's, but they were perky and perfect, and Zack's hands were roaming all over them. Her skin was dark and smooth, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she had an athletic body with a firm, round ass.

Gwen knew her, of course. Tasha was about a decade younger than Gwen, and was a new mother. She'd moved in with her fiancé, Mark, almost two years before. Gwen was friends with the couple... at least, as much as neighbors were expected to be.

"Oh, fuck," Tasha moaned, her hands in the teenager's hair, guiding him. "That feels so fucking good. I've never felt like this before. God, I love being your little slut."

Her voice was thick with pleasure, and Gwen's head was swimming. She knew she had to turn away, had to stop watching. She had to go into her room, shut the door, and try to figure out what to do about this. Her son was sleeping with his neighbor, a woman who was engaged to a charming man named Mark.

He was cheating on Harper, and Gwen was cheating on Mark, and it was all so wrong...

So wrong, and so hot. She couldn't tear her eyes away.

Gwen watched as Tasha came, as her hips bucked, her body trembling with pure bliss. She'd never felt that before. She'd never felt anything like it. She'd been married to Zack's father for over a decade, and he'd never once given her the kind of orgasm that her son was giving their neighbor.

Gwen's entire body tensed as her son moved his mouth to Tasha's other breast and started to kiss and lick it. Her neighbor's body was writhing, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat, as her son worshiped her chest. Gwen felt her pussy clench and spasm, and her legs trembled, and she had to grip the doorframe for support.

Tasha came again, crying out, "Oh, baby, oh, Zack... I love being your whore, I love it so much. I love how you treat me..."

Without even touching herself, Gwen came at the same moment as her neighbor. It felt like a fire had ignited in her belly and was spreading to every part of her body, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

And then, as she was riding the waves of her orgasm, and Tasha was riding hers, Gwen lost her balance. She fell backwards, landing on the carpet with a thud.

She froze, terrified, but Zack and Tasha hadn't noticed. Tasha's sounds of pleasure were still spilling from her son's room, drowning out anything else, and Gwen scrambled to her feet and ran downstairs.

She shut her bedroom door and fell onto the bed. Her body was shaking. Her pussy was throbbing. Her mind was spinning.

Zack and Tasha. Zack had been cheating on Harper with their older, married neighbor, a woman with a child, a woman who was engaged to a good man, a woman with a life ahead of her, a woman who was...

... topless, and getting off as her son called her names, and was loving every second of her body being used, abused, and treated like a toy.

And Gwen had watched. She'd watched her son suck on another woman's tits and make her cum, and she had cum from watching him.

Gwen had cum from watching her son suck on a neighbor's tits.

She needed to get control of the situation. She needed to get on top of it.

But first, she needed to get off again.

That night, after Tasha had left and Gwen had composed herself, she confronted her son. He was downstairs, playing video games in the living room.

Before she could say a word, his eyes roamed her body, and she forgot why she was there, her mind silenced by the roar of arousal. Ever since her shopping trip, she'd started wearing sluttier and sluttier outfits around the house; the second her pay had come in, she'd gone back for more.

Most of it was stuff she'd never wear in front of anyone else (except perhaps Harper. Harper would understand), but she was hopelessly addicted to her son's attention.

"What do you think?" she said. She was wearing a black, lace teddy. It was tight, and thin, and it was almost entirely transparent. She wasn't even wearing a bra or panties underneath, and the outline of her hard nipples was clearly visible through the fabric. "Is this too much? Am I asking for it?"

Zack licked his lips. "You look like a slut," he said, and Gwen's knees went so weak, she almost collapsed. For the last few days, he'd been calling her nastier names, degrading her as he did Harper...

She knew it was wrong. She knew he shouldn't speak to his mother like that. He shouldn't speak to any woman like that!

But, rather than telling him off, she'd been reacting as he knew she would.

How had she never known before how good it felt to be objectified? How had her son known more about her sexuality than she did? How had he known how good she'd feel, showing off her skin, dressing to attract the attention of every man she encountered...

Gwen shook her head, trying not to let herself get distracted. Her son's eyes were roaming over her, taking in every exposed inch of her skin. He was focused on her chest, but his gaze was also drifting down her bare legs, drawing a line of fire wherever he looked.

No.

No. She had to focus. She had to remember what she was here to do.

"I saw you and Tasha today," Gwen whimpered.

Zack's mouth flickered, but he didn't say a word.

"She's a married woman," Gwen continued, her voice gaining some strength now that she was on firmer ground.

"No, she's not," Zack said, and Gwen was forced to nod.

"No, but she's engaged. She's got a baby at home. And you're treating her the way you treat Harper. It's not okay, Zack. You can't treat women like they're... like they're..."

Zack's eyes had dropped from hers to her body, and she shivered as he ran his gaze over her.

"Like what?"

"Like objects," Gwen said, her voice barely audible. "Like they're just... objects for your pleasure."

Her son's gaze returned to her face, and--suddenly emboldened--Gwen continued.

"I'm serious, Zack. I know you think you're doing them a favor. I know they like the attention, and I know they're getting off on it, too. But that doesn't make it okay. There's more to a woman than just her body. There's more to a relationship than sex. There are things like trust, and commitment, and love, and those can't exist if you're degrading someone the way you're degrading Tasha and Harper and... and..."

And me, Gwen thought, but before she could find words, Zack interrupted.

"I just suck on her tits," he said. "That's all I do with Tasha. It's not cheating, not really. She wasn't feeling connected to her body after the baby, and... well, I have a bit of a party trick."

Gwen stared at her son, not sure if she wanted to ask.

"I can make any woman cum by sucking on her tits."

Gwen blinked twice. Had she heard that right?

"What?" she asked. She was suddenly aware of just how alone the two of them were. The house was empty and silent.

"I can make any woman cum by sucking on her tits," Zack said, a huge grin on his face.

Gwen was speechless. She just stared at her son, who was smirking at her, his gaze roaming her body. He was looking her up and down, and the way he was eyeing her made her tingle all over.

"That can't be right," she finally gasped.

In response, her son just raised one eyebrow.

For the next week, Gwen couldn't stop thinking about what her son had said.

It was just so... absurd. After he'd said it, she'd gone online and done some reading, desperate to prove him wrong. Many women struggled to orgasm even with direct clitoral stimulation--the idea that he could make any woman cum just by sucking on her tits was... was...

Well, it was absurd. Her son had an inflated opinion of his sexual prowess. Gwen had been with plenty of men who'd insisted on sucking on her nipples, and it had done nothing for her. Her tits simply weren't erogenous zones; women cumming from getting their breasts sucked was a thing that happened in bad porn, not real life.

So there you go. Immediate proof. He couldn't make any woman cum by sucking on her tits, because he couldn't make her cum that way.

Well, it wasn't proof. Not unless he failed. And to fail, he'd have to...

No. Of course she wasn't going to let him try. That would be wrong. That would be insane. That would be the sort of thing she could never come back from.

Just the thought of it...

It was a thought that was always on her mind. As she got ready for work, wearing outfits that showed off her generous cleavage. As she went downstairs and reveled in the way Zack looked at her.

He'd been right about that. Maybe he was right about...

No. It wasn't even worth thinking about.

But she did. She thought about it as she went to work and drank in the gazes of her colleagues and the strangers in traffic and her fellow customers at the grocery store. As she went home and cooked dinner in a skirt, bra, and heels, and watched Zack's eyes grow dark with lust.

And she thought about it as she masturbated in the bathroom at her office, and in her bedroom, or even the living room, her dress hiked up around her waist, her fingers stroking her hungry cunt while her son was in his bedroom just a few rooms away. She imagined the sensation of his lips against her skin as she came, gasping and moaning and screaming into the pillow.

Every time Zack looked at her chest, she knew that he was imagining what it would feel like to have his mouth on them, to suck on her nipples, to make her cum with his tongue and teeth on her flesh.

Gwen had a framed photo of her son on her desk, and on Wednesday, Stephanie walked in to find her staring at it.

"Who's the hottie?" she asked, and when Gwen answered, she almost did a double-take.

"Get out! That's little Zacky?"

Picking up the photo, Stephanie whistled through her teeth. "If I were twenty years younger..."

"And he wasn't my son," Gwen replied. She'd meant to sound jocular, but it had come out more bitter than anticipated.

Fortunately, Stephanie ignored her. "We still on for Saturday?" she asked, and Gwen nodded.

On Friday night, she walked in to find Zack and Harper making out in the living room. Harper was grinding on Zack's lap when Gwen entered to ask if they wanted anything from the store.

She froze in place at the sight.

Neither of them seemed to have noticed her, but she blushed anyway. She was wearing a tight, short-sleeved white dress, and a pair of heels. The dress was low-cut, but not as revealing as some of her other outfits; she tried to cover up a little when Harper was over. Didn't want her son's girlfriend getting the wrong idea.

Gwen had bought it for a special occasion, not that she had any planned. She had a lot of dresses, now, that she couldn't imagine wearing anywhere. Dresses that were cut so low, they were almost indecent. Dresses that were so short, she was afraid of bending over in them.

Dresses that she could only imagine wearing out at a bar with Steph, while they tried to attract the attention of the best-looking man in the room.

Dresses that she could wear at home, and bask in the way they turned her son on...

Harper was running her hands through Zack's hair.

"Please," she begged, her voice throaty, and everyone in the room knew what she was asking for.

Zack gave his girlfriend a cocky smile, and Harper groaned in frustration.

"Please," she repeated. "I can't stand it anymore. I want to feel it again. Please."

"Are you sure you want it?" Zack replied teasingly.

"Yes! God, yes! I'm so fucking horny, baby."

"Say the magic words, and I'll give it to you," Zack told his girlfriend, and Harper's eyes sparkled.

"I belong to you," she breathed, and suddenly Zack's hands were on Harper's chest, unbuttoning her blouse. Her breasts sprang free. They were the kind of teenage tits that men dreamed of, perky and round, with small pink nipples. Seeing them bared made Gwen realize that they were smaller than her own, but not by much.

And they were perfect.

Zack's hands ran over his girlfriend's chest, his fingers brushing her nipples, and Harper moaned, arching her back.

Gwen watched, unable to speak, as her son leaned forward and lowered his mouth to one breast. "Oh, fuck," Harper moaned as Zack began to lick and suck on her tit.

The teenage girl's entire body tensed and released, and then tightened again, as she bucked against Zack. Gwen watched as her son worshipped his girlfriend's chest, his mouth moving from one tit to the other, his hands groping and kneading them, and a strange emotion filled her as she did.

Jealousy.

She was jealous.

She was jealous of her son's girlfriend, jealous of the pleasure she was feeling, jealous that Harper's tits were the ones her son was sucking on.

It wasn't reasonable, it was barely even sane, but it was true.

Gwen stared at the young couple, her body thrumming with pleasure, her pussy soaking wet, her nipples hard as rocks. When Harper came, the teenage girl cried out loud enough for the neighbors to hear--not that Tasha was likely to complain, of course--and Gwen took the opportunity to make her exit.

As she returned to her bedroom, she could still hear Harper moaning with pleasure. The sound followed down the hall and under her blankets.

And when Gwen reached her own orgasm, she was imagining herself in Harper's place.