A Bottle of Cabernet

This is a work of fiction.

*****

It was early afternoon, and I had left work early. When I came into the house, it was quiet, as I expected. Jack, my husband of 21 years, would probably be working overtime again, which really meant he was going out with friends to chase some young girls who wouldn't want anything to do with them.

Both Gina and Donnie would still be at school or out with their friends, playing sports, or video games, or whatever kids did.

The laundry sat in the dryer, waiting for me to fold it, which I did, while pouring myself a glass of Cabernet. Twenty minutes later, with a warm feeling and a pile of clean clothes, I climbed to the second floor and casually strolled down the hall to Donnie's room.

Not thinking twice about the door being closed, I shoved it open with my hip.

"Mom!" he shouted, dropping his I-pad and pulling his covers over him.

Shocked at anyone being home and that my 18 year old son was naked, I stood there stunned, my heart racing.

"Donnie, what are you doing?" I shrieked, knowing full well what he was doing. I had found cum-covered briefs and sheets enough times to know, but I'd never caught him in the act.

"Y-you're not supposed to be home yet," he protested.

"Neither are you!" was my only response. In the brief seconds when I entered, I had seen enough to know he was watching a video and stroking a major erection. Now my eyes took in the bottle of lotion next to him and the audio still carrying the sounds of a woman's moans from the video.

We were both in shock and nothing more was said. I turned and put the laundry on his dresser before walking out.

Back downstairs, I poured a second wine and tried to shake the thought of Donnie's lotion-coated pink head, engorged with blood. I hadn't seen him naked in years, let alone, erect. As a matter of fact, I hadn't seen Jack very often lately, usually only feeling when he crawled into bed drunk and horny, mounted me without foreplay, and humped until he came, with no regard for my satisfaction. Then he'd roll off me and snore away, leaving me sweating and frustrated.

At 41 years old, I sat in my kitchen, sipping... no gulping my wine, disappointed that my vibrator was upstairs, hidden, while Donnie laid there pumping himself.

Dinner that night was awkward to say the least. Gina rambled on about nothing while Donnie and I pushed around our pasta and meatballs, both deep in thought. I had been right about Jack: he called to say he was working late, not to wait up.

Afterward, 16 year old Gina went to her room, obstensibly to homework, but more likely to play on the computer. Donnie never moved and never looked up, just eating and pushing his food.

For my part, I was on my second bottle of wine, trying not to think of my young son. Eventually, I stood and began clearing the dishes. "Are you finished?" I asked.

"I'm sorry," was his response and when I looked into his eyes, I knew he meant it.

"I'm sorry, too," I said, taking his plate. "I had no right barging into your room like that in the first place."

"But, you didn't know I'd be home, right?"

I stopped and turned to him again. "How about this: why don't you get a small dead bolt and put it on the door. This way, when you're... doing something, you'll have your privacy."

He nodded. "Okay, I will. Thanks, Mom."

I couldn't resist adding, "And when you're done, please put anything that's ... soiled, directly into the laundry basket, so I don't have to find it."

His face got so red. He probably never realized that I had known all along what he was doing. "Okay," he stammered, "okay."

Life went back to normal after that. Jack would "work overtime," Gina would babble about nothing, and Donnie would sit across from me, occasionally watching me a little too closely, until the following week.

Jack was at work, Gina had early classes and Donnie was showering. The only difference was Donnie hadn't bothered closing the door. He was in there longer than usual when I walked by and stopped.

"Donnie, I have to shower yet. Save me some hot water."

He pulled the shower curtain back and was holding onto his penis, red and erect. This time, he didn't try to cover and I got the full view. He had to be at least as big as Jack's six inches, but his was fatter. He continued to stroke it as we looked at each other. "Okay, Mom."

Stunned again, I walked to me room, waiting for him to finish. After a few minutes, he hollered, "I'm out!" as he padded his way to his room. I glanced out and his bare buns were tight as he walked away naked. My entire body felt clammy as I grabbed my robe and went into the shower.

As I stood there, letting the hot water soothe me, I heard the door. Looking through the transparent curtain, I saw Donnie watching me. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Oh, sorry, just wanted to get my brush." He took it from the drawer and left, closing the door behind him.

Nervous and excited at my son watching me nude, I shivered in the hot water. When I finished, and toweled off, I realized he was gone.

A little about me: Age 41, as I said; 5'4", 120 lb, dark brown hair with hi-lights, all in all, not the least attractive woman in town. I still got comments from men and long stares from boys. The lack of attention sexually was my choice. Although I'd thought lately about cheating on Jack, I'd resisted the urge, even though he wouldn't be nearly as faithful.

But, that doesn't mean I didn't have the same desires and fantasies as any normal woman.

The thought of a young man, even my son, looking at me in that manner gave me the willies.

Donnie made a habit of taking long showers when we were the only two at home, and he would wait for me to come and ask if he was finished before pulling back the curtain to show me his cock. I had stopped thinking of it as a penis. Now, I was a cock, a hard, young cock.

He would then accidentally come in as I showered, staring at me. It got so I didn't even bother covering up when he did this. The tension was palpable.

A month went by, and on Thursday, Donnie announced he had no classes the next day, while Gina complained about having to be at school for a project. Friday was also my regular day off.

That morning, I got up and had coffee and toast in my nightgown and robe. As I was finishing, Donnie came down, dressed in just his briefs and a tee shirt.

"Morning," I said without really looking at him. "Do you want breakfast?"

"Not right now," he answered in a hoarse voice.

Fearing he was coming down with a cold, I asked, "Do you feel alright?"

"Fine"

I was rinsing my cup and plate when I felt him behind me. I felt him because he brushed against me. I turned to look and he was reaching up over my head to the cabinet. "Just want a juice glass," he barely said.

The kitchen is kind of small, so I didn't make a big thing out of it. But he stayed there, never grabbing the glass, but still pressed up against my butt.

Donnie is about 5'10, and about 165 lb. Based on our height difference, there was no way his crotch should be at the same level as my ass, but it was. He had crouched, and was rubbing his cock slowly against my butt.

"I'll get the glass," I blurted out, but his head was by my ear.

"I've got it," he groaned.

My hands rested on the sink for what seemed to be an eternity, with him slid his bulge up and down my ass, and I realized I was moving with him. Fearful that this had gone too far, I tried to turn, now facing him, which he must've taken to mean acceptance.

His hands went to my hips as he continued grinding, and his eyes glazed over and he grunted like a beast in heat.

"Baby, no," was all I got out before he yanked open my robe and pawed at my tits. The normally sensitive nipples were so tender to his clawing, and he tweaked them as he buried his head in my neck.

My hands on his chest were useless. He was too powerful for me to push him away. He kissed and bit my neck, growling guttural sounds and I was both frightened and extremely excited. The best I could do was whimper as he grabbed the nightgown hem and hoisted it, exposing my bare bush.

He shoved his briefs down and jammed his knee between my legs, forcing them open. He crouched even lower, shoving his cock without finding the target. He grunted from frustration and I reached between us and felt him for the first time. He was on fire in my hand as I spread wider and he easily slid into my wetness.

His thrusting slammed my back into the counter and to avoid any real damage, I lifted myself onto the counter, allowing Donnie to stand and slide forward into my raised hips.

I found myself grunting along as he shoved into me, his hard cock filling me with his lust.

I was meeting his thrusts, staring into his handsome face, now distorted by sexual need and desire. He slammed again and again, our bodies slapping to the beat that only we could hear. He grew louder and his eyes widened as he gave one last push, then held inside me for what seemed to be minutes before he released into me, then thrusting again as he shot again and again.

His head fell to my shoulder, with both of us gasping for air. We stayed there in silence, panting as I felt his cum seeping from me, his cock softening until the point where it plopped out.

We didn't make eye-contact as he collected his briefs, hesitantly turned, then walked away.

My body was trembling, knowing what we had just done... what I had let happen, was so wrong. I slowly lowered myself to the floor, looking around, in a fog. Donnie's cum sat on the counter, and I reflexively reached down and felt it oozing down my legs. I succumbed to the desire and brought my hand up to my face, inhaling the mixture of our scents before inserting my fingers into my mouth, the salty, tart, flavor exciting and repulsing me. I licked hungrily, until my body stopped trembling.

I reached for a wine glass and a new bottle of Cabernet.