My Son Caught Me Masturbating (Part One)

My Son Caught Me Masturbating

Nym Hexel

The house was quiet, the usual Saturday afternoon soundtrack of the TV a distant murmur. The smell of freshly cut grass from the backyard filled the air, mingling with the scent of the last remnants of dinner lingering in the kitchen. Manny was on autopilot, pacing down the corridor, his stomach rumbling, looking forward to grabbing a cold slice of pizza from the fridge.

As he swung around the corner to the kitchen, his bare feet hitting the cold linoleum, he froze. His mother, Sarah, was bent over the counter, one hand clutching the edge, the other in a frenzy below her waist. It took his brain a few seconds to process the scene.

His mother, Sarah, was a woman of conservative habits, her hair was always pulled back into a neat bun, and her clothes were always modest. But there she was, her hair falling onto her shoulders, her dressing gown hiked up around her waist, her panties pushed aside, her hand moving furiously between her legs. The sight was jarring, a stark contrast to the sterile, spotless kitchen. He could see the glistening of her fingers as they moved in and out of her, hear the wet sound of her arousal echoing in the silent room.

"Mom?" he croaked, his voice barely audible. She froze, her body tensing, her hand pausing mid-motion.

Her head whipped around, her eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. "Manny!" she gasped, her voice a mixture of surprise and mortification. She quickly pulled her hand away, her dressing gown falling back into place, shielding her modesty.

Manny, rooted to the spot, felt a surge of emotions. Disbelief, shock, and something else. Something he ...