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She meets Santa at the shopping center.
She had seen it happen with friends. She was relieved to find a couple of old Playboy's under his bed one day when he was about 14.
All the time he was growing up, Jane never dated. Her entire life was devoted to her son. Sure, there were times when she was lonely for companionship her own age, but each time she reminded herself that this was her decision and her responsibility.
As she sat at the intersection, waiting for the light to turn green, her thoughts turned to one time, when Paul was around 18, and she had inadvertently walked in on him in the shower. She froze in her tracks, glued to the sight of her son standing with his back to the spray, a soapy hand wrapped around a very hard prick, his eyes closed with the pleasure he was giving himself. Jane had felt herself get immediately wet as she watched his hand move faster and faster. It must have been the sudden draft of cool air from the still-open door that caught his attention and he opened his eyes, only to yell out, "MOM!", then turn away from her, his ears and neck going scarlet.
The shout startled Jane out of her trance and she mumbled a quick, "S-sorry..." before rushing to her bedroom and shutting the door tightly. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she wondered just what she'd been thinking, standing there, watching her son masturbate. Giving herself a mental smack, she knew exactly what she'd been thinking, but she didn't want to admit it. Watching his hand slide up and down the thick shaft had turned her on, she could feel it in the way her nipples and clit had hardened, not to mention the slick heat that was wetting her panties.
She heard the shower turn off and braced herself, but Paul didn't come to her room. After about a half hour of waiting, she took a deep breath and went to the kitchen to prepare their dinner. She made something quick and easy and called Paul. He came down the stairs and sat at the table but neither of them made eye contact or spoke. As usual, Paul did the dishes then headed back to his room, quietly telling his mother he had a test to study for. Again, there was no eye contact and Jane had to strain to hear what he was saying but she just nodded and told him she was going for her bath.
That comment seemed to remind both of them of what had happened earlier and, for the second time that day, Jane watched as her son's ears turned crimson and he slipped into the sanctity of his room. She felt her own face redden at the unacknowledged reference and hurried into the bathroom, trying to forget what she had seen and focus on drawing her bath.
Laying back in the hot water, steam rising around her in wispy, scented tendrils, Jane lazily ran a sponge across her breasts and down her stomach. The warmth of the water against her soft flesh caused a shiver of pleasure and her nipples hardened in response to the heat, then sudden coolness.
Her eyes half open, Jane peered down at her body. "Not bad for a 40 year old," Jane thought to herself as she took stock. Her pale breasts were still fairly firm, with only a slight sag to the sides from laying on her back. The dusty pink tips were hard and long, from the difference in temperatures, Jane told herself. The slight roundness to her belly was unseen as she lay back, giving her a clear view to the closely trimmed mound nestled between shapely thighs.
Jane had always either trimmed very close or shaved completely, no matter that she was the only one that saw it. She thought a full bush ugly and not very hygienic and always kept it closely cropped. The heat of the water had caused the fleshy outer folds to swell and turn a deep pink, the blood flow causing a gentle throb to make itself noticed.
Jane ran the bar of soap over her breasts, a soft gasp escaping her lips as the slippery sensation caused her nipples to harden even more, sending a tingle directly to her clit.