I pressed my eye to the crack in my son's door, heart pounding. He was sprawled on his bed, pants down to his ankles, fist wrapped tight around his rock-hard cock. On the monitor, a photo of me—from before I transitioned—glowed in the dark. My cock stiffened in my panties as I watched him stroke, up and down, his breath ragged. A wet sound filled the room as his pre-cum glistened under his thumb. I fingered my own clit through the fabric, legs trembling, swallowing hard to stifle a moan.

Next day, shame burned my cheeks. "I saw you," I whispered, staring at my feet. "Last night. Jacking off to me." His face went crimson. "Mom, I... I can't help it. You're so hot." My pussy clenched. "We're blood," I said weakly. "We can't do this."

His eyes dropped. "I've never been with anyone," he mumbled. I pulled him into my arms, feeling his hard body shake. Lust roared in my gut. "We can't be together," I murmured, voice thick. "But I can teach you what real sex feels like, if you want." His dick pressed into my thigh through his jeans. "Please," he breathed.

That night, I wore a white shirt that showed the peak of my nipples. I slipped into his room, sliding onto his bed, my cunt already dripping. I pushed his pants down and wrapped my lips around his thick shaft, tasting salt on my tongue. He moaned as I bobbed my head, taking him deep. Then I rode him, my big clit rubbing against his stomach while his cock