Shock.

It was a rainy and cold Saturday afternoon when my life changed forever. I was returning from the grocery shop, purchasing the absolute basics during the height of the pandemic. My beloved husband David, a cargo plane pilot, was once again working overtime flying medical equipment from China to Europe almost in a non-stop manner.

I called out to John, my 19-year-old son, to come and help me put away stuff, but there was no answer. Maybe he's sleeping, I had thought to myself. I was wrong.

Opening the door to my bedroom, I immediately went into shock with what was happening in front of me. On my bed lay my naked son, stroking his dick into one of my sandals. The other one planted tightly onto his face smelling deeply.

"JOHN!!! What in God's name are you doing?"

"OMG Mom! I uhh.....I am so sorry...."

He ran past me naked leaving my sandals back on the bed, and locked himself in his room.

"JOHN YOU COME OUT THIS INSTANT! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING WITH MY SHOES? OPEN THIS DOOR. NOW!"

"I'm so sorry mom. I'm sorry you had to see me like this."

"I AM CALLING YOUR FATHER."

"Please mom. No. Please try to forget everything. I promise I will never use your shoes and stockings again. Please don't tell dad."

I could hear him crying though the door, awakening my motherly instincts, calming me down a bit.

"OK, ok. Put some clothes on and come out. We definitely need to talk and your father needs to know what you were doing. It's so disgustingly wrong!! Don't you get it?"

"Please mom. Please forgive me. I don't want to come out. I need my time."

"Fuck! I mumbled between my teeth. "OK, take your time."

I was fuming, but I couldn't let him know how much I hated him at this point.

(What the hell was he thinking? Smelling my sandals? Jerking off to my shoes? I need to get this out of my head). I told myself while locking the door to the master bedroom.

I turned towards my bed and like a thunder the feeling of disgust shivered my whole body. There they were. The used sandals and stockings on my bed. Still with sweat, saliva and other disgusting juices on them. I took a few paper towels from my bathroom to use as gloves, picking the damp sandals up and throwing them inside the laundry basket in my closet.

(God damn it. I must be having a nightmare; all this can't be true.)

Closing the door of my closet I saw all my other pairs of shoes laying down there.

(OH MY FREAKING GOD. HAS HE USED ALL MY SHOES IN THE PAST????

WHAT IF THIS WAS NOT HIS FIRST TIME? WHAT IF.....

WHAT IF I HAVE WORN SHOES FILLED WITH HIS CUM UNBEKNOWNST??)

My stomach turned at that thought.

(I think I am going to throw up......

Where's my mobile? WHERE'S MY FUCKING MOBILE? OK calm down calm down... it should be in my purse.)

"Yes hello! I really need to speak with Mr Smith. David Smith please. He's a pilot for your airline............what storm?.....Comms down? Delayed arrival? Well that's fucking great!!!....Sorry sssorry ma'am. It's just an emergency and I really needed to talk to my husband. I'll try again next time... thank you for your time."

(God damn it. Never there when I need him. I must have something to drink.)

I don't know how many hours had passed since my ordeal began. My foggy brain was just barely registering the empty bottle of vodka I held in my hand.

(Why God? Why me? Why John? What the actual fuck? Smelling my shoes jerking off??

I need answers god damn it. I need answers now! OF COURSE you stupid bitch. The internet. Ask the internet on how to deal with perverted disgusting sons. Where's my fucking laptop?")

Quora.

I quickly opened my laptop.

One of the negative things of living in a fucking pandemic is of course having sooooooo much fucking free time in our hands. It was about four months ago when I decided to make an account on Quora, trying to initiate conversations with other married wives who were dealing with depressions, or make jokes about the lack of sex in our lives... You know! Reading generic stupid fucking topics just to kill some time during lockdowns.

This time however I would be, the one starting a stupid fucking topic for others to read, comment and ridicule on. In a somewhat soberer state, I changed my registration name and began typing the unthinkable.

"I caught my son jerking off while smelling my sandals. Please help!"

(Yeah right as if anyone will give a fuck)......I thought.

But once more I was wrong. My laptop notifications went berserk. Ding. Ding.... Ding.... Truly unstoppable.

(OK, Let's see what people will have to say to me. Let's see what good advice I will get, on how to deal with my son's disgusting perverted sickness.

........Uhhhh??? Uhhhhh WHAT?????!!!! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??)

- "Welcome to the club mommy. Wink." Wrote one......

- "It's beautiful right? Watching your son smell your feet and cumming in your shoes?" Replied the second one.......

- "Enjoy! Incest is great". Came the third reply....

- "Did you let him lick your feet? Can I lick your feet too?"

- "My son came out too, during the lockdown. It's the best thing that could happen to me. I love how he worships my feet. It's a daily thing now between us and it has brought us closer than ever."

- "I AM A MOTHER OF TWO BOYS AND I HAVE INCEST SEX INFRONT OF THEIR CUCKOLD FATHER."

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE???? DID COVID MAKE THEM ALL BRAINDEAD????? THOSE SICK FUCKS!!! I exclaimed

I was literally fuming. Instead of getting answers I was being bombarded with messages about how great incest with my son would be. How much I would love my feet receiving tongue baths from my son. I was about to shut my laptop, angrily screaming at the horrendous answers on my screen, when I saw a post from one Female Doctor in Psychology.

"Honey Don't listen to them, there is a way out of these terrible feelings you are feeling right now. Call me at this number."

(Thank god, I had found one sane person to talk to) I remember thinking back then.

I was wrong.

Doctor in Psychology

"Yes, hello. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk to you. Please, Doctor. Please help me. I don't know what to do. His father is out of town and won't be coming home anytime soon. I am trembling with fear, but mostly out of disgust. How can a son jerk off to his mother's shoes? What sickness is this? Why my shoes? Why my used stockings?"

"Please try to calm down. I know you want to have answers, but my main concern right now is not you!!!"

"WHAT?"

"Please let me finish. No, I am not concerned about you. I am more concerned about your son. Where is he now? How did he react when you found him in this vulnerable position?"

"That little fucker went inside his room and he locked himself in there. He is not talking to me and to be honest I don't want to see him right now."

"No No!! This is exactly what I was afraid of. You are currently ruining his life forever so we must act very quickly. Otherwise the consequences might be dire."

"What the hell are you talking about? I am the one in need of help, not him."

"LADY! DON'T YOU GET IT? Your son is feeling so much shame right now he might be committing suicide as we speak."

I lost the ground under my feet. I was dumbstruck from that last sentence.

It took a second to come out of my shock, I jumped up screaming my son's name out loud. All neighbors were probably alerted by my screams.

"JOOOOOOHHHHHHHNNNNN. JOOOOOHHHHHHNN BAAAABY. PLEASE TALK TO ME. PLEASE BABY I LOVE YOU. PLEASE DO NOT HARM YOURSELF. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH."

"Huh? Mom? What's wrong mom?"

"Please baby. I am not mad anymore. Please open your door. I beg you. I love you so much. Mommy loves you baby. More than you can ever think of."

I had never cried so much in my life. Never had I felt so much love for John than in those moments. The thoughts of him harming himself because of my stupid reactions were filling my brain. I was going to kill myself if anything happened to him.

"My love, my baby. Please open the door. I forgive you. I forgive you, do you hear me?! Please unlock your door. I will help you if you want. I WILL LET YOU WORSHIP MY FEET AS MUCH AS YOU LIKE."