The Evolution Of A Slut Mommy

(Okay, first for the standard stuff, this story is a fictional account concerning fictional adults all of whom are over the age of 18. If you feel this story may be illegal in your area, or you offended by themes like incest, please do yourself, me, and the family dog a huge favor and don't read this story.

I'm a novice writer so I appreciate any and all reader comments. Thanks for your time and I hope you enjoy the story)

I'm A Good Girl

Once upon a time I was a good girl. Granted you'd never guess that now if you saw me strutting down the street today in one of my many mini-skirts that show off my long legs and round bubble butt and the occasional glimpse of my naughty little thongs (at least on those days I wear panties). With my mouth watering 36DD tits on display thanks to those undone top three buttons on my sheer blouses, I seriously doubt any man who sees me could even guess I was once the recording secretary of the Honors Society at Robert P. Dresser High School. Add to that the sight of me perched on my 5" stiletto high heels that Johnny loves so much and wearing my favorite thigh high stockings (I fucking love thigh highs!) and I must look like anything in the world besides a good girl. Still, once upon a time that's exactly what I was.

What's that? Who's Johnny? Johnny is my 19 year old son and the reason why I have all these hot clothes, naughty lingerie, and sexy high heel shoes, but that fact is getting ahead of my story. What isn't getting ahead of my story is that Johnny had a key influence in the first event that set me on the road to being a slut.

You see I gave birth to Johnny when I was 15. No, I wasn't some boy crazy little bimbo who got knocked up by some local high school stud. I was a very good girl, hell I'd never even been out on a date.

So how does a good girl who'd never even been out on a date get a bun in the oven at fifteen? She has to make a series of mistakes. She has to sneak out of her bedroom room window on a Wednesday night so she can go to a rock concert with her friends. Then she and her friends have to accept a backstage pass from a roadie to meet the band after the show. Finally, if while backstage with the band, someone hands her a cup that the good girl doesn't know what's in it, she needs to be polite and drink it right down. If any good girl makes these three mistakes, there is a very good chance she will wake up at dawn the next morning with a busted hymen and a pussy that feels like it has a half gallon of sperm in it. At least that is my personal experience with this situation.

My folks were pretty upset when I got home the next day. They went fucking bonkers when I told them I had missed my second period. The called the cops. They called a bunch of lawyers. They got the same answer from everyone they called. Due to the fact I couldn't remember who had given me the magic cup, let alone be able to name the stud who whitewashed my pussy with his baby batter, there wasn't much of a case.

After my folks put the phone down for the last time they took a deep breath, and then they supported me 100 percent. Being strict Catholics, abortion was out of the question. There was originally some talk of me giving Johnny up for adoption, but I dug my heels in and said no. Pretty much from the day I found out I was pregnant with Johnny, I fell in love with him. I knew there was no way I'd ever give my baby up. There was a pretty big row when I told my folks, but after a couple of days they realized my mind was made up, and they started making arrangements for the arrival of their grandson.

After Johnny was born I decided I was going back to a being good girl. I went to the local continuation school and got my GED. After that it was off to the local community collage, and from there I went on to graduate from the local state university with a degree in business administration. After collage I got a job out of town and threw myself into it and the only other thing in my life I really cared about. My beautiful little baby boy, Johnny.

Life marched on, work and my baby boy. First steps, first day of school, cub scouts, Little League, Pop Warner football, staff meetings, special projects that needed to be done ASAP, and lots and lots of overtime that was my life, at least until I turned 30, and married Gerald. For years my family and friends had been after me to settle down and find myself a man, but it seemed all I attracted were losers who thought being a single mother made me a sure thing and an emotional doormat. My friend Katie had recently pointed out to me that Johnny was 15 and would be leaving home for collage in a few years. I needed to start thinking about living my own life.

I met Gerald on a blind date set up by mutual friends. Gerald had a good career as a banker. Gerald was stable. Gerald was a good listener. Granted with his little pot belly and thick glasses he really didn't make my heart go pitter patter, but I was a grown woman, the mother of a strapping teenaged boy, and thought who needed that at my age?

Gerald and I got along quiet well when we first got married, and he also got along reasonably well with Johnny too. Of course Gerald had the common sense not to try to be a father figure to Johnny. I mean that would have been a complete joke. Even in our wedding pictures the top of Gerald's head only hit Johnny at the shoulder, and even as a high school freshman Johnny had a set of muscles on him that would intimidate most men.

Two more years would pass and then the second event that led to me becoming a slut took place. Johnny went to the Junior Prom. Well there was no surprise there. My little baby had grown into a very handsome young man, well over six feet tall, a chiseled frame, cute dimples when he smiled, my own jet black hair, and sparkling green eyes that were all his own.

I can't say I had any use for his date for the prom, Amy Hotkins. She was an empty headed little blonde cheerleader, who instead of a personality had a perky set of boobs.

The big night rolled around and Johnny looked so handsome in his tuxedo. I didn't care for the way Amy had draped herself all over him while we were taking pictures, but I managed to keep my displeasure to myself.

Johnny's normal curfew was midnight, but seeing as this was a special night we pushed it back to one o'clock, and though I hadn't told Johnny, But I wasn't planning on getting real mad as long as he was home by two. I had a serious hunch that my little boy was going to lose his virginity that night. I had mixed feelings over that fact. I mean Johnny had just turned 18 (I'd kept Johnny home for an extra year before starting kindergarten), and it was bound to happen but I just couldn't help wishing it wasn't going to be with an inane little giggle box like Amy Hotkins.

I was very surprised when Johnny came through the door at a little past midnight. He was very quiet and had a sad little smile on his face. When I asked him about his night, he told me everything was fine. Dinner had been fine, the dance had been fine and Amy was fine. Johnny told me he was tired and went back to his room closing the door behind him.

I was crushed, it was obvious Johnny was upset and for the first time in his life he was shutting me out. Johnny moped around the house for the rest of the week, and I'll admit I moped right along with him.

It was a chance phone call that changed everything. My best friend Katie called up to catch up on things and I told her about my problem with Johnny. Katie suddenly got very quiet. I told Katie if she knew something about this she needed to tell me right then and there. Katie took a deep breath and told me her story.

Katie was also friends with Donna Hotkins, Amy's mother. While at lunch that week with Donna, she had mentioned to Katie she had recently installed spyware on her daughter's computer to try to keep the little cock tease on a shorter leash. Donna then proceeded to tell Katie about an email Amy had sent to one of her fellow slut cheerleader friends about what happened after the prom. Apparently when Amy saw Johnny naked for the first time she demanded he take her home immediately. I was stunned. No I was livid. That little tramp had the nerve to turn down my Johnny? I thanked Katie for the information and made an excuse to end the phone call.

"That little fucking cunt!" I hissed after I hung up the phone.

Gerald, who had been just about to take a sip of tea, ended up spiting it all over himself. Gerald asked me what was wrong, and I told him the story I had just heard getting madder by the second. When I turned to go up to Johnny's room, Gerald took my arm and told me I was about to make a huge mistake. Gerald told me when a boy's been embarrassed because he is small; the only thing that will make it worse is having his mother talk about the subject. Gerald seemed so sure of what he was telling me, but then Gerald had a three inch penis, so he probably was speaking from experience.

I was stunned. My baby, my Johnny, small? It seemed crazy. He was well over six feet tall, an all county linebacker; my god he wore a size 11½ shoe for crying out loud! I went to my room and cried for the rest of the afternoon.

Finally about a week later Johnny snapped out of his funk. He asked me if he could set up some weight lifting equipment in the garage and I immediately said yes even before he told me why.

Gerald had a snit saying something about where would we park our cars and couldn't Johnny just work out at the gym with the rest of the football team? I patiently explained to Gerald that Johnny had decided not to play football next year, because if he concentrated on his studies and aced his advanced placement exams he could win an academic scholarship to the university. Johnny still wanted to work out, but doing it in the garage would not cut into his study time as much as driving all the way across town to the gym.

I was barely able to keep the contempt out of my voice when I told Gerald if it was so important to him, he could continue to park in the garage and I would park out on the driveway. Johnny set up a weight bench, a chin-up bar, and some barbells and dumbbells and a lot of cast iron weights on my side of the garage and was soon spending a large part of his days out there.

I never went out in the garage when Johnny was exercising. It felt like it would have been intruding, but I stopped to listen by the door more then once. It was fascinating, the clang of the iron weights and the occasional deep muted grunts that came through the door. I always ended up walking away with butterflies in my tummy and my cheeks flushed for some reason.

Eventually we settled into our summer routine. Well that is after Gerald left me. It turns out that about six months before, right about when he had his 43rd birthday; Gerald discovered a bald spot forming on the back of his head. He then entered a very quiet and very intense midlife crisis. This would result in him starting a new relationship with a woman he called his "soul mate" but I always thought of as "some 22-year-old bleach blonde pilates instructor with a boob job." I was livid for about two weeks over the fact that this tiny dicked little bald man would have the nerve to leave me for some young cookie. Eventually I calmed down, found a good lawyer to make Gerald's life miserable, and I also joined a gym and hired a personal trainer to get rid of those 10 pounds I'd been meaning to lose for the last few years. (I mean Gerald's 160 pounds of useless flab was out of my life, why not go all the way?)

Life was simple and almost boring. I went to work, Johnny studied, and we both worked out. We had dinner every night and occasionally watched movies on the DVD together. It was just me and my baby boy, and to tell you the truth, it was nice.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

This would change about two weeks before Christmas. I was at the mall, Christmas shopping with my friend Katie. It had been a good day we'd caught up on all the recent gossip and found some good buys too. Katie had been raving about how good I looked. I tried to pretend it was no big deal, but inside I was basking in her compliments.

I did look good. Going to the gym three times a week for almost six months had firmed and toned my 5'7" body. You could bounce a quarter off my butt, and my boobs which had always been my best feature, could now have given that little whore Amy Hotkins a run for her money in the perky department. I'd gotten a new younger looking hair style for my thick black hair, and had traded in my glasses for contacts to show off my blue eyes. For the first time in my life I felt a little bit sexy.

We were all set to call it a day, when we heard a screeching noise off to our right. My first thought was a large parrot was loose in the mall; it tuned out to be Donna Hotkins. She was sitting in a restaurant and invited Katie and I in to have a drink. There was no way we could politely refuse and the next thing I knew I was sitting at a table full of strange women with the mother of the girl who had ruined what should have been one of the best nights of my sweet Johnny's life.

Donna and Katie caught up on small talk and then Donna turned to me.

"You know I never got a chance to thank you." She said sweetly.

I asked what she felt she needed to thank me for.

"For your son taking Amy to the prom last year, it's made my job as a mother so much easier.

I couldn't believe this woman would have the gall to bring up this subject.

"What happened Donna?" One of the women at the table asked.

"Well you know my daughter, Amy? The young lady her father likes to call his little princess, but the girl I know who's had a chronic case of the hot pants since she was 14? Well apparently my little girl had decided it was time to go all the way with Connie's son."

"She's got good taste," one of the women at the table giggled.

"True, she gets it from her mother." Donna said before taking another sip of her cosmo. "Well the dance lets out and they head off to the local lovers lane for the moment of truth."

I couldn't believe she was not only going to tell this story in public, she was going to tell it in front of me. I got ready to come over the table and scratch that bitch's eyes out.

"But when they got down to their birthday suits, Amy found out that Johnny was, well, very gifted if you get my drift."

This news brought a chorus of giggles at the table.

"How gifted?" Another woman asked.

Donna got a big smirk on her face. "Well, to use Amy's own words in an email she sent your daughter, Pattie, she thought if he put it in her he'd split her in two."

"Oh what would a teenager know about a big one?" One of the women scoffed.

"I don't care if it was an optical illusion," Donna said. "All I know that date has kept my little teenaged vixen on the straight and narrow for the last seven months."

"Think it will last?" Another woman asked.

Donna shrugged her shoulders. "I hope so, but Aaron Hills been sniffing around lately."

"He's got a cute butt," yet another woman giggled.

"Yeah and that's what worries me," Donna said shaking her head. "I just want to get her into college without a trip to Planned Parenthood." Donna raised her glass to me, "anyway Connie thank you for raising such a lovely boy."

This brought on another chorus of giggles and the subject of conversation shifted to shoes. Katie and I quickly finished our drinks, made our goodbyes and then Katie drove me home.

I headed straight to my room to think. On the one hand I worried about Johnny. Was all his studying and weight lifting because he felt like a freak? It tore me up inside to think my baby might be hurting. On the other hand, I was elated by what Donna had told me. My baby wasn't "small". Fuck you Gerald, I thought to myself. My Johnny was hung.

This brought up a question I didn't want to think about. Just how big was Johnny. My tummy started doing flip flops and I felt my cheeks flush. I put it out of my mind and went to fix dinner for Johnny.

The only problem is that question wouldn't stay out of my mind. It seemed at least three or four times a day I would find myself wondering just what was in my son's pants. Often at the worst times, meetings at work, or talking to friends on the phone; that question kept worming into my brain.

I found myself looking at Johnny all the time now. My eyes were always drifting down to the front of his pants. Not that I could really tell what was down there. Johnny didn't like tight clothes. I realized I really had no idea what Johnny's body looked like. I knew he had wide shoulders, and when he wore short sleeve shirts I could see the hints of well developed biceps, but I no idea what was under his clothes. I began to wonder about that too.

As the weeks slid by I found myself masturbating more. My usual routine had been to draw a hot bath, light some candles and rub my kitty about twice a month to take the edge off. Now however the urge was coming over me two to three times a week.

I wish I could say I had a good reason, but the truth be told it mainly came down to me being too horny to see straight, and I eventually came to a decision. I needed to see it. I needed to see my Johnny's penis. I told myself it was just curiosity and that once I saw it, I'd stop thinking about it. Was it a cheap rationalization? Sure, but if you can't have a cheap rationalization when your panties are wet, when can you?

Of course the question now how was I going to get a peek? As a family we didn't flaunt our bodies. The only place I could count on Johnny being nude was in the shower, but that didn't do me much good. I suppose I could accidentally barge in, but what would happen if Johnny wasn't naked? Was I just supposed to keep accidentally barging in? I mean how many times could I accidentally barge into a shower before Johnny got suspicious? Besides, it would probably be traumatic for the poor boy to suddenly be confronted in the shower by his mother.

It took me about all of 10 minutes to get around this dilemma. I made a trip to the electronics store and bought one of those nanny cams. If you've never heard of a nanny cam, it's a small hidden video camera hidden in a common object used by concerned parents to monitor the people actually raising their children. Granted I don't think I was planning on using it for a purpose envisioned by the manufacturer, but my lust had caused me to think outside the box.

The camera was concealed in a false book I put up on shelf in Johnny's bathroom where I kept the extra hand towels. It had cost a little extra, but I'd got a digital video camera that would record to the hard drive on my computer in my room. I could even set it to record for specific periods of time, so I wouldn't have to monitor the camera, or end up with a nine hour recording to catch the 10 minutes of what I wanted to see.

I usually left for work before Johnny got up, so I set the timer on the camera for that hour before I knew Johnny left for school. I wish I could say I hesitated before I hit the button on my computer to set the timer, but that would be a lie. I was going to see my baby and this was going to be the day.

I was a mess at work that day. I had the attention span of a gnat. I had three meetings, two conference calls and answered 14 emails and the most intelligent response I had to any of them was to say or write "I'll get back to you on that." It was so bad my personal assistant actually asked me if I was feeling ok. I told her I was feeling a little woozy, which was as close to the truth as I could get.

I finally gave up on getting anything done that day and ducked out of work an hour early. Surprisingly enough I didn't head straight home. I ended up driving around aimlessly for awhile, because now that what I wanted was waiting for me at home, I wondered if I really wanted this. Good mothers didn't set up spy cameras to see how big their sons' penises were, and good girls certainly didn't watch the recordings.