I don't know the nature of my fetish really. I grew up in a non-wealthy normal family, everything would be kind of basic. Yes, I was very fucked over by the "Taboo" movie series. But who hasn't been? I got a good education, but I didn't want to work, I tried my hand at modeling, and I even got hired. Nothing outstanding, the usual street-level agency, commissions like photo shoots for pantyhose packages or for local businesses. They didn't pay much money and a lot of girls went to escorts. The same fate befell me. I had boyfriends, lots of them, but nothing worked out with them, because nobody could stand my work, which I became very good at. At 23, I got pregnant by a fool who ran away the next day. But I wasn't worried, because I had the money and the strength to raise my future son on my own.

When my son went to school, I went back to work. That was the first time I felt like I was doing something wrong, but I liked the paycheck and sex. Over time, it became harder for me to hide my profession from my son. My closet and laundry were always full of sexy lingerie and stockings and corsets and tight-fitting dresses. I often wore high-heeled shoes and sandals at home to wear, I was always in shape from yoga classes and jogging, I mastered makeup. 

By then he was about 17 or 18 when I noticed him looking at me. I was scared at first, as every normal mother should be. Then I started to like it, in a way. We didn't discuss it in any way, I was just a little more relaxed at home. There was less of the nanny side of me, which I didn't really like being, and more of a woman. After some reflection, the situation with expressing my sexuality at home settled down and life continued.

About the same time, I noticed a change in my boy. He became interested in sports, and he constantly tried to find an income on his own, without my help. He was becoming a handsome, responsible man. Not only that, but he had no trouble with girls. And by the time he was twenty, he even had a relationship with a woman my age. I didn't think much of it at the time, but I realize now that it was the first warning bell.

By then my son knew what I did for a living, but we didn't talk about it. He respected my privacy, I respected his. A colleague of mine, my BFF, confided in me secretly that she was having an affair with her brother and that she wanted to quit her job for him. Then it clicked in me when I saw other people having those feelings, it normalized for me the feelings that I had consciously or unconsciously suppressed in me. Of course, I encouraged my friend's desire and at the same time allowed myself to see my son as a man. A man with his own sexuality, with his own needs. And being his mother only made my pussy wetter...