My husband, Jeffery, died four years ago. It was peaceful for him, it seemed, though, with three sons, all teens, it was my life’s hardest challenge. One good thing was he left us well covered financially. It’s the emotional coverage that has been lacking and there was nothing he could do about that.
So, you cope.
Our two oldest boys are in college and there’s only Neil, the youngest, eighteen and a senior in high school, left at home. While, of course, I miss my two older boys, Neil is a good student, never any trouble, and nice to have around.
The emotional vacuum left by Jeff’s passing, has not been filled in any measure by anyone new and I’ve been left, like many single women, I suppose, to deal with matters as best I can.
For the first time since I was in college, I’ve now got a few vibrators and a dildo that provide me some sexual relief though never a good substitute for the real thing attached to a caring and attentive man.
So, my sex was strictly solo and, well, it’s all I had.
I mostly tried to take care of my sexual needs when Neil wasn’t around as I do like to enjoy my masturbating as much as I can and, well, sometimes, I get a bit spirited and vocal. But finding just the right time isn’t always possible so, one night, I’d gone to bed and was using the dildo, I often forgo the vibrators when Neil is home, and I was in just the right mood for the feelings to be much better than usual.
So, I suppose I was a little louder than normal when I began hearing sounds from his end of the hallway. Of course my door was closed, his usually is as well but, after all, the rooms in the house are connected by heating ducts so I suppose that might be how I heard him.
There was little doubt of what I was hearing, my son was obviously masturbating as was his mother down the hall from him, masturbating as well.
Knowing Neil was doing the same, I tried to hold down my orgasm but, well, maybe there was a bit of extra eroticism in us doing it together in time if not space, and I was a little louder than I’d intended.
About a minute after I’d orgasmed, Neil, quite obviously, had a roaring orgasm himself that could not be mistaken for anything but. I lay there, part of me rather turned-on by it all, part of me rather wanting to put the whole thing out of my mind and fall asleep.
At breakfast the next morning, it was a Saturday, I fixed him bacon and eggs, the usual weekend fare he likes, and when I sat down with him while he ate, he said, quietly, “I really enjoyed last night, Mom, you know, when we were both, um, you know, getting off.”