At 36 years old I was going through a messy divorce. That doesn’t seem unreasonable by today’s standards, but at the time it was almost unheard of. Honestly it could’ve been worse and I could’ve divorced him the first TWO times he cheated on me, in which case I would’ve been a lot younger. But he was my high school sweetheart and the only man I’d ever been with, so I gave him another chance. Then I caught him again, but this time I gave him another chance out of fear.. Fear of being on my own. I didn’t work, we had a son.. I wasn’t even sure where to begin if I left, so I forgave him. We did counseling and things were better for awhile, but then he was caught again, and I left. I was able to stay with my sister and her husband, which was nice, but they only had one extra room, so my son, Mark, and I had to share a bed.
At first it was fine, but it quickly became problematic. He was a teenage boy, he wasn’t particularly clean, not very helpful, and was at the age where he wanted his privacy.. As was evident by the sticky and crusty tee shirts and socks in his dirty clothes. I found myself having to scold him a lot, and as the weeks went by, he began to retaliate with “I want to go home and live with dad!” This broke my heart and sometimes in the heat of the argument I’d say “Fine!”, but cooler heads would prevail and we’d make up. The divorce wasn’t final yet, not by a long shot. I generally didn’t agree with the idea of alimony, but after how my ex had treated me, I wanted to stick it to him, and that meant child support too. Mark was old enough that he could request which parent he’d prefer to live with. I was a very loving mother, and had been his primary parent since I didn’t work. But even I could understand why he’d chose to go live with his father right now, given our living arrangements. My lawyer had made it abundantly clear that if my son went to live with his father that not only would I not get child support, but it could weaken my case for alimony as well. So I began doing my best to be more accommodating to Mark.
This meant being tolerant of his messiness in our shared room, not scolding him, and trying to give him privacy. The later became a priority after I walked in on him masturbating. Of course I played it off (for the sake of both our embarrassments) and acted like I thought he was changing. But he was sitting in a chair with his pants at his ankles and his erection in his hand. To make it more awkward, he had one of my sexier brasseries and panties in front of him. I brought it up to someone and was assured that this was quite common. This was well before the internet mind you, and often times simple things like their mother’s bra was the most sensuous thing a young man had seen, and the closest he had to pornography.
One night, about a week later, I awoke and found him spooning me. It was now winter and rather cold at night, and having my son cuddle up with me was nice and still a very cute thing. His head was pressed against my back and one of his arms was draped over me with his hand atop my breast, I laughed to myself. I glanced over my shoulder at him, he looked dead asleep, mouth open, drooling a bit, so I simply moved his hand and fell back asleep. He started sleeping like this every night. At first he’d fall asleep with his back to me, but at some point he’d roll over and cuddle up to me, and his hand always seemed to find one of my breasts. Sometimes I’d remove it, other times I just let it stay there, it was harmless and even oddly soothing, so I didn’t think anything of it.
One night I was laying on my back, wearing pajamas (a matching flannel shirt and pants) and I awoke. I could clearly feel one of my tits being grabbed. I looked down my body and saw movement. Mark was laying to my right, pressed up against me and his hand was clutching my left breast. And not just clutching.. But grabbing, squeezing, kneading, massaging! I couldn’t see his eyes to tell if they were open and he was awake, or if he was having some pubescent teenaged sex dream and this was all unconscious behavior. I thought about moving his hand, but what if he was awake?! Could he actually be groping his own mother?? Why? Shear lust? Curiousity? It lasted for several minutes, I didn’t move, and other than his hand, neither did he. When he stopped I watched him awhile longer, looking for signs of consciousness, but there was nothing and eventually I drifted off.
It became a regular occurrence, at first I would try to catch him, almost certain that he was awake and aware of what he was doing, but even when I could see his face he looked fast asleep. I did notice that he was in a better mood during the day as well. His vivid dreams must’ve been rather satisfying. I chalked the whole thing up as a win. It was honestly harmless, and we were being more civil to one another, so no harm done… plus, and this is embarrassing to admit, but it actually made me feel kind of good about myself, like I was sexy somehow. It was happening every night, sometimes multiple times. It was to the point where it didn’t phase me any more, in fact I began sleeping right through it.
It was a week later before I was awoken again. A slightly painful sensation, like a pinch, caused me to open my eyes. I felt the familiar pressure squeezing my breasts, and realized it was both. Could he really be fondling both my tits in his sleep? However I was sleepy and I didn’t let it phase me, I started to dose off, but then I felt the pinch again and my eyes shot open. I looked down to see the top of Mark’s head on my chest, he was face down suckling hungrily on one of my nipples. He was propped up on one arm, with his free hand kneading my other tit. He was sucking hard and I felt the sharp pain again as he nibbled slightly on my tender flesh. I was again frozen, unsure of what to do. While still sucking on me, he removed his other hand from my breast and reached down, out of my sight. The bed began to rock very slightly and I heard the faint but unmistakable sound of skin rubbing skin.. He was masturbating. There was no doubt he was awake and had been consciously molesting his own mother in her sleep, and now had worked himself up so much that he was jerking off beside her, still groping her body. His breathing and movement changed as he quickly neared orgasm. He stopped sucking and I heard him mumble softly to himself as he began to spray his jizz on my leg.