Chapter 5
Their eyes remained locked for what felt like an eternity, Jasmine's hand still wrapped around his now softening cock. She felt a rush of guilt wash over her, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in.
With trembling fingers, she pulled her hand away, the sticky residue of his cum cooling on her skin. Her gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered, the words catching in her throat.
Dante's hand reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Don't be," he murmured, his voice raspy from the passion of moments before. Jasmine looked up at him, the conflict in her heart reflected in the depths of his eyes. "It's okay," he said, the words filled with a tenderness that made her want to cry.
But Jasmine knew it wasn't okay. She had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, a taboo that went beyond the boundaries of motherhood. She turned away, fleeing to the safety of her bedroom, the echo of her own heartbeat in her ears.
Once inside, she leaned against door as if it could keep her secrets contained. Her hand shook as she peeled off her cum-stained robe, dropping it to the floor. Jasmine went to the bathroom, her legs feeling like jelly, and washed her hand with a sense of purpose. The water was cold, a stark contrast to the warmth that had just been there.
Her mind reeled with the images of what had just transpired. The feel of his cock, the sound of his pleasure. It was all too much, a flood of sensations that she couldn't process. Jasmine knew that she had to clean herself up, to erase the evidence of their shared sin.
With trembling hands, she took a washcloth and wetted it, the soft fabric feeling like sandpaper against her sensitive skin. She brought it to her thigh, wiping away the sticky cum. The act was almost ritualistic, a silent apology to her own body for what it had just done.
But even as she cleaned herself, Jasmine couldn't deny the dark thrill that coursed through her, the knowledge that she had taken a step into the forbidden, that she had felt a desire that no mother should feel for her child.
Her thoughts were a tumultuous storm, a whirlwind of guilt and lust. She had seen her son in a new light, a man with his own desires and urges, and she had been drawn to that. The memory of his cock, thick and veiny, filled her mind. It was so much bigger than any other one that she had ever seen, a testament to his growing maturity. Jasmine felt a strange sense of pride mixed with the overwhelming feeling of weakness.
When she finally felt composed enough to look at herself in the mirror, Jasmine saw a woman she hardly recognized. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide with the aftermath of passion. The sight of her own naked body, still flushed with arousal, made her stomach twist.
Quietly, she slipped into her bedroom, the door clicking softly behind her. Her husband lay there, oblivious to the storm of emotions swirling around her. Jasmine carefully climbed into bed beside him, her body aching for a comfort she knew she didn't deserve. She lay there, her heart racing, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, trying to find solace in the familiar scent of him.
But sleep was elusive, her mind racing with thoughts of Dante. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her son's face contorted in pleasure, felt the warmth of his cum on her hand. Jasmine rolled onto her side, her back to her husband, and clutched the pillow tightly to her chest. Her hand strayed to her own sex, her fingers tracing the slick folds, the memory of their encounter sending a fresh wave of arousal through her.
When the alarm finally jolted them awake, Jasmine felt a jolt of fear at the thought of facing Dante. She pretended to be asleep, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, hoping the morning would pass without incident. She heard the sounds of her husband stirring, his footsteps padding across the floor, the shower turning on. Jasmine waited until the bathroom door closed before she dared to move.
Gently, she slid out of bed and tiptoed to the window, drawing the curtains aside. The early morning light painted the room in soft hues of pink and gold. She stared at the clock on the bedside table, its ticking a metronome to her racing thoughts. In a few minutes, Dante would be leaving for school.
The shower beckoned, a sanctuary of white noise and steam to wash away the sins of the night. Jasmine stepped into the hot spray, letting the water cascade over her body, the heat seeping into her bones. She took her time, scrubbing every inch of herself, as if the soap could somehow purge her of the guilt that clung to her like a second skin. She watched the water swirl down the drain, carrying with it the last traces of their illicit encounter.
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Author's Note
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