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My slim fingers trailed down my taut tummy. The anticipation and need building within me from my own touch and the thought of his hands on my body were overwhelming. I shivered when I reached my smooth hairless mound. I could picture his body in my mind. So lean and yet so masculine. Spreading my thighs wider, I let my let my fingers stray deep into my juicy core. There is little I love more than the delicious warmth that pours over me as I pet my hungry pussy. I know exactly how he would touch me. I’ve imagined it a million times. He would lazily run the head of his plump cock across my needy little clit, and along my soaking wet heat moving so slowly that it could count as torture. Only when I was on the verge of begging would he push his searing thickness into my core. I could feel myself on the verge of another monstrous orgasm. His image was the only one that could get me off this way. I thrust my fingers further into my hot dripping cunt. My toes curled, and my legs tensed ready for sweet release. Hearing my labored breathing and the whispers of his name that I always chanted threw me over the edge. I vaguely heard the front door slam shut as my hips rose and my back bowed with the last waves of this exquisite istanbul travesti orgasm. From the vale of my afterglow I heard, “Hey Mom, what are you making me for dinner? I have practice today.” I slid my slick fingers out of my pussy as I heard footsteps coming up the hall. There he stood in my doorway, his light brown hair flopping loosely in his mocha eyes. I swear I have never seen anything quite as beautiful as my seventeen year old son. “Being lazy today, aren’t we?” he said as he sat on my king size bed. “I’m allowed to be lazy” I said, “I did have twenty-two long hard hours of labor.” “Yeah, seventeen years ago!” he said with the charming grin he always flashes my way. “Fine, I’ll fix whatever you want for dinner, but you have to start on your homework first. I have no need for a son that can’t lavish me with presents when I’m old and gray.” As I watched my dashing boy get up to leave I felt the same small twinge of guilt that I always felt after fantasizing about my little man. For the past year or so now he has been the leading character in my naughty daydreams. I’ve never pursued these feeling because frankly I don’t want to scar him for life, but lately these urges istanbul travestileri have become harder and harder to control. Last week he was telling me about his grueling soccer game. As I watched his full lips move around every word I had to use all of my strength not to lean over that small space between us and taste those gorgeous supple lips. It was not my proudest moment by any means. I roused myself up off the bed before I lingered into another tantalizing fantasy about my son. I could feel my wetness practically drooling down my thigh as I walk to the bathroom. I dressed and walked down stairs to our spacious dine-in kitchen. I knew exactly what he would want me to make for supper. So I grabbed a box of mac and cheese from the pantry and hot dogs from the fridge. As I fixed our meal my mind started to wonder again to my sexy little stud in the next room. I had yet to see him with a girlfriend but I was fairly sure that he wasn’t interested in men. Last summer, while I was cleaning his forever messy room, I came across his stash of nude magazines. The voluptuous ladies on the covers led me to believe that he was very much interested in women. Most of those women had body travesti istanbul types very similar to my own; full lush breasts, trim waists, and curvaceous child-bearing hips. I couldn’t help but wonder if my randy little man had ever felt the full weight of a woman’s breast, or the soft curve of her ass. Would he know his way around a real woman’s body? “Awesome! Hot dogs and mac.” I hadn’t heard him come in the kitchen but then again I doubt he had noticed the deep red flush that had come to my cheeks. “Yep, your favorite! It’s almost done. Grab a plate and I’ll serve it up.” I said as I finished stirring the creamy mac and cheese. He sat patiently as I dished out our cuisine and paired the hot dogs with their buns. As I was bending over the table to spoon the rest of the mac onto his plate I glanced up to find his gorgeous mocha eyes glued to my cleavage which was visible via my gaping v-neck t-shirt. I was quite frankly shocked. I had never noticed him looking at me with such lust and need in his eyes. I composed myself and sat down in the chair across from him. I asked about school and practice, but the one thing that kept rolling through my mind was “what if.” What if that passion in his longing gaze meant that he had thought of me when he was alone at night? What if the thought of my lush body made his hand roam and caress as his made mine? I resolved myself to find out. After seeing the need in his eyes there was little I could do to stop myself. At the time I had no idea how to test my new theory.