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For those unfamiliar with all I’ve shared about my unusual family dynamic on this platform, I was in a sex cult for over twenty years and it would be an understatement to say it didn’t have a profound impact on the psychological development of my three (now) adult children.
This post in particular, however, is in regards to one of my sons.
See, back in the late 90s and early 2000s, I was heavily involved in the adult entertainment industry thanks to said sex cult and starred in my fair distribute of pornographic movies.
I started off doing adult magazine spreads and was eventually plucked away from that and dropped into the hardcore amateur market.
A lot of my work was so explicit that you couldn’t really discover it outside of more extreme paid porn websites that were specifically geared towards that sort of content.
I didn’t have a enormous following, but eventually I became *somewhat* known for my work…some of which even ended up for sale on numerous porn resale websites (this was back when people still bought physical porn DVD’s to jerk off to).
Fast forward to present day.
When my oldest son was eighteen but still a senior in high college, I was doing a deep clean of his room and changing the sheets on his bed when I found an entire treasure trove of my “old work” stashed away between his mattress and boxspring.
This wasn’t my vanilla stuff either.
Not by any stretch.
No…my son appeared to be deliberately collecting some of my most hardcore films.
I could even be seen on the back cover slip of a few of the partaking in numerous lewd, degrading, taboo acts. Among them were me taking a enormous load of cum on my face, me getting a train run on me by five men that were at the time twice my age, me getting pissed on, me in a hardcore lesbian threesome with lots of toys…the list goes on.
I sat in his bed and examined each DVD, trying my best to gather my thoughts in an attempt to understand how I was gonna proceed next. I had at that point put that part of my life in a box and locked it up tight, but here I was being forced to face the harsh reality that it was no secret to at least one of my children.
Apparently there’s some truth to the fact that doing porn will all the time come back to bite you in the ass eventually.
Deciding on a “rip off the band-aid” approach, I waited until my son was home from basketball practice, then I cornered him in the hallway leading to his bedroom with the evidence.
We had all the time been pretty open with each other, right down to sharing a bed some nights, and up until then I had never seen him look so embarrassed about anything.
“Well, you got me,” he said, avoiding eye contact with me as he slid off his gym bag and took a seat on the edge of his bed. His face was flushed and he was deliberately avoiding making eye contact with me.
For him, this was odd.
“Just…take them, okay?” he urged, gesturing to the box in my arms. “It was a stupid idea,” he rambled, “some of the guys on the team have been giving me hell over seeing you in some old porno, and I just…I got curious. But I shouldn’t have bought them. They’re fucking with my head.”
That last part caught my interest.
I set down the box and took a seat beside him, silently urging him to look at me. When he did, I asked, “fucking with your head?”
He nodded and rubbed his face for a moment before reluctantly responding, “Y-yeah…seeing you in that light…watching you do those things…”
“But you know I used to be pretty…um…sexually liberated,” I said when he didn’t finish his train of wondered. Honestly, I didn’t really know where this was going. At this point I was more intrigued than anything else. “So…is it really so surprising?”
He shrugged. Then nodded. “Some of it,” he said, avoiding making eye contact with me again.
“Like?”
*Fuck. Why was I getting turned on by this?*
*Fuck. Fuck fuck.*
“Well…seeing you get pissed on, for starters…”
I must have involuntarily smirked at that.
“It’s *not* funny,” he said, “what if the guys from the team had found those clips instead?”
“I wouldn’t give a shit,” I said matter-of-factly, reaching out to caress his back. He stiffened, then relaxed beneath my touch. “All I care about is what *you* think.”
He looked at me again, and I swear…there was this silent moment shared between the two of us that was at that point far outside our mother/son comfort zone. He even started to lean in as if to kiss me, but I pulled away from him before he could and rushed to stand up, placing the box of porn back on his bed.
“Keep it,” I said, “it’ll only fuck with your head if you let it.”
It was a cult mantra I had kept with me—sure—but it was also one I found to be rich with results.
I left his room and shut the door behind me, making a beeline for my own bedroom to relieve the sexual tension brewing between my legs with one of my favorite toys.
Up until then, I had explored just about every taboo out there…but never incest…and never any fantasies involving my own family, let alone one of my sons.
Still, as I stretched out in bed and fucked myself with my trusty vibrator, all I could think about was my son feverishly jerking off to the sight of me in the most filthy scenarios feasible.
The tension between us was palpable from that moment forward. My other two children even commented on the weirdness at one point, but neither one of us was about to explain just what it was all about.
Eventually, things went back to ordinary and we managed to put the whole thing behind us…but I would be lying if I said I didn’t go peeking through his room to see if he still had the DVDs in his possession.
Sure enough, he did.
In fact, I even checked his DVD player one day when he was at college to discover one still inside of it.
Needless to say, I spent the entire rest of that day fucking myself to the wondered of him getting off to me.
Little did I know, it was just the beginning of what would prove to be a very…interesting…relationship between the two of us.

NSFW: yes

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