Being the mother of children can be a wonderful and exasperating role to fulfil. It becomes even harder when the man you married works the rigs and is away from home a month or more at a time. When you then add in the teenage years of rebellion, the role of 'parent' can be a very difficult one at times and I was entering one of those 'difficult' times. My son Sundar, who is normally a very bright and industrious kid, had hit the 'why bother' phase of his 15 years of life. Of course, this had to come to light the day AFTER his father had gone to the rigs for a month. As a result of this I was alone when I attended the requested meeting with Sundar's School Coordinator; the man gave me the creeps, but I managed to hide this as I listened to the comments he was making.
"I'm afraid there has been a distinct decline in Sundar's work quality over the past few weeks," he was saying, "now this could be something as simply as a phase he is going through or an indication of something more serious."
"More serious?" I asked in surprise.
"I am afraid so," he replied, "it could be anything from some tension at home, to drugs abuse..."
"Now look here, my son does NOT do drugs!" I protested strongly.
"Please Mrs. Reshmi Pillai," he said in a placating tone of voice, "I was not implying he is, just offering some of the possible reasons for a sudden drop in grades, such as Sundar is displaying. Has anything changed in his home environment that may account for this?"
"Not that I know of." I sighed, "Could it be bullying at school?"
"It is a possibility," the tutor agreed, "though a remote one, we have been cracking down on that particular area recently, the children should be feeling less stressed."
"This is getting us no-where." I sighed, "What do you suggest I do?"
He leant back as though thinking, though I was sure his mind had been set long before this meeting. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him admiring my breasts, admittedly, they are one of my best features, but I was here to resolve my son's problems, not to be ogled. Turning my head I looked the man straight in the eye, he blushed then fidgeted in his chair for a moment.
"I suggest you talk to him Mrs. Reshmi Pillai." The tutor mumbled, "Perhaps offer him some incentive to pick up his grades again."
"You mean bribe him?" I asked in surprise.
"Call it what you will." He snorted, "I am inclined to believe that this is just a phase, but it would not hurt to check all possibilities."
On my way home I wondered how I was going to raise the problem of his grades with my son, it wasn't going to be easy discussing the matter without sounding accusatory and that was without the added problem of teenage rebelliousness. I was still undecided as to how to approach the matter when I finally arrived home, about the only thing I could think of was to be blunt and direct with my son. It came as no surprise to find that my son was not home, for the past few months he'd rarely got home from school until well after five. When asked where he had been all that time he became sullen and refused to answer, not even his father had been able to get an answer to the question from him.
Sighing I set abut preparing the evening meal, which gave me plenty of time to think, not that this helped any. I remembered the last time we had tried using 'incentives' to get Sundar to change his behaviour, he'd been a year younger and just as stubborn as he now was at 15; offers of money and desired items had not worked, nor had threats of grounding and loss of privileges. So what the hell WOULD work with him? Based on his sinking grade levels I needed to find the answer to that question and pretty damn quickly. I decided to postpone talking to my son until I had worked out some sort of incentive to offer that he would accept with eagerness.
Later that evening I sat with Sundar in the living room watching the television, or, more accurately, the television was on though my mind was not concentrating on it. Gradually it sank in to me that my son did seem engrossed with the program and I took note of what was happening on screen. The program seemed to be some sort of chat show, though it looked more a fight arena with the 'guests' shouting abuse at each other and even attacking each other. It was hard to get the gist of the show, but eventually I gathered that it was connected with sex and infidelity.
"Isn't there anything better on?" I asked with a sigh.
"This is almost finished." Sundar responded without taking his eyes off the screen.
Raising an eyebrow at his response I started to watch him as well as the program; I soon noticed that he seemed more interested when the main protagonists were female. His interest seemed really piqued when the women became physical with each other; at first I thought it was seeing the women fighting that interested him, but then I realised that he was eagerly watching in case one of the women tore clothing off the other. Well this was pretty much normal hormonal teenaged male behaviour; my mother had once commented to me that young male teens could get excited over a button popping. In a sense it was a relief to know that my son was at least normal in this respect, this thought made me smile. Just at that moment my son looked over at me, he saw me smiling and smiled back before returning his attention to the television.
Later that night, while I lay alone in my bed, it occurred to me that sex might be an incentive my son would accept. There was of course one major problem with that, I had no idea whether he knew anything about sex, nor what he preferred; rather foolishly I'd left this area of his upbringing to my husband. I know he was going to have a fatherly talk with Sundar about the subject, but somehow I don't think he had ever done so. Obviously I was going to have to find out for myself just what my son liked, after all it would be pointless offering, say, sex magazines if I got him the wrong sort. I fell asleep still pondering this and those final thoughts affected my dreams. In my dreams I was showing myself off to my son, seemingly using my body to teach him about sex.
I woke the following morning feeling guilty about the subject of my dreams, frustrated and a little excited. Sighing I got out of bed, heading for the shower I was lost in thought; throughout my morning toilet I was thinking about how I could stir my son to study or at least to apply what he had learnt already. Luxuriating in the warmth of the shower I decided that I would talk to him when he got home from school that day, at the very least I had to tell him of the meeting I'd had with his tutor. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a movement through the frosted glass of the shower door, at first I dismissed it as imagination; then the movement came again and this time I had no doubt that I had seen a shadow figure. Apart from my son and myself the house was empty, which meant that there were only two possibilities, that a stranger had broken in and that I dismissed immediately; the second possibility was that it had been my son. But what would he want in the bathroom when he knew that it was occupied?
Puzzled I carried on with my shower, only now I faced the glass door and watched for any sign of movement, when there was none I once again began to believe that it had been my imagination at work. It was as I finished my shower and turned off the water that I was finally convinced that it had not been my imagination; as the flow of water stopped a figure crossed the bathroom, the bathroom door was a shadow block as it opened and closed. I stared through the frosted glass in stunned surprise; it was obvious that if my son had been in the bathroom that there could be only one reason for it, he had been trying to get a glimpse of me in the nude! Once I had got over my first shock I felt angry with my son.
Returning to my bedroom I decided to have it out with him, but as I dressed my anger cooled and out of nowhere came the memory of my dream about showing myself off to my son. Shocked at my thoughts I sat on the edge of the bed and sat there with my mind whirling and reeling, it was my son calling up the stairs to tell me he was off to school that finally snapped me back to my senses. Dressed only in bra and panties I dashed out of the bedroom to the top of the stairs.
"Sundar," I called down as I started to head downstairs, "I want to talk to you."
"What mum," he called, as he appeared at the foot of the stairs "I have to"
He stood looking up the stairs with his mouth hanging open and his eyes almost out on stalks, then he licked his lips and grinned.
"... Go before I'm late." He finished in a low voice, his eyes looking at me almost reverently.
"Okay, but I want you to come straight home from school today." I said, puzzled by his actions.
"Okay." He replied without further comment, which was unusual for him.
With one last almost wistful look up the stairs Sundar headed off for school, I heard the front door open then felt a cool draft on my skin and it was then that I realised just how little I was wearing. As the front door closed I retreated to my room to finish dressing, my thought now filled with the look on my son's face as he looked up the stairs at my barely covered body. To my amazement I realised that my nipples were hardening and, even more amazingly, my pussy was feeling a little moist. Fully dressed at last I headed down to the kitchen for a much needed cup of coffee, if it hadn't been for the fact that I needed to drive a little later on I would have substituted a large gin for the coffee. While I sat at the kitchen table sipping the hot brew a thought popped into my head that I should use my body as the needed incentive for my son.
"I'm afraid there has been a distinct decline in Sundar's work quality over the past few weeks," he was saying, "now this could be something as simply as a phase he is going through or an indication of something more serious."
"More serious?" I asked in surprise.
"I am afraid so," he replied, "it could be anything from some tension at home, to drugs abuse..."
"Now look here, my son does NOT do drugs!" I protested strongly.
"Please Mrs. Reshmi Pillai," he said in a placating tone of voice, "I was not implying he is, just offering some of the possible reasons for a sudden drop in grades, such as Sundar is displaying. Has anything changed in his home environment that may account for this?"
"Not that I know of." I sighed, "Could it be bullying at school?"
"It is a possibility," the tutor agreed, "though a remote one, we have been cracking down on that particular area recently, the children should be feeling less stressed."
"This is getting us no-where." I sighed, "What do you suggest I do?"
He leant back as though thinking, though I was sure his mind had been set long before this meeting. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him admiring my breasts, admittedly, they are one of my best features, but I was here to resolve my son's problems, not to be ogled. Turning my head I looked the man straight in the eye, he blushed then fidgeted in his chair for a moment.
"I suggest you talk to him Mrs. Reshmi Pillai." The tutor mumbled, "Perhaps offer him some incentive to pick up his grades again."
"You mean bribe him?" I asked in surprise.
"Call it what you will." He snorted, "I am inclined to believe that this is just a phase, but it would not hurt to check all possibilities."
On my way home I wondered how I was going to raise the problem of his grades with my son, it wasn't going to be easy discussing the matter without sounding accusatory and that was without the added problem of teenage rebelliousness. I was still undecided as to how to approach the matter when I finally arrived home, about the only thing I could think of was to be blunt and direct with my son. It came as no surprise to find that my son was not home, for the past few months he'd rarely got home from school until well after five. When asked where he had been all that time he became sullen and refused to answer, not even his father had been able to get an answer to the question from him.
Sighing I set abut preparing the evening meal, which gave me plenty of time to think, not that this helped any. I remembered the last time we had tried using 'incentives' to get Sundar to change his behaviour, he'd been a year younger and just as stubborn as he now was at 15; offers of money and desired items had not worked, nor had threats of grounding and loss of privileges. So what the hell WOULD work with him? Based on his sinking grade levels I needed to find the answer to that question and pretty damn quickly. I decided to postpone talking to my son until I had worked out some sort of incentive to offer that he would accept with eagerness.
Later that evening I sat with Sundar in the living room watching the television, or, more accurately, the television was on though my mind was not concentrating on it. Gradually it sank in to me that my son did seem engrossed with the program and I took note of what was happening on screen. The program seemed to be some sort of chat show, though it looked more a fight arena with the 'guests' shouting abuse at each other and even attacking each other. It was hard to get the gist of the show, but eventually I gathered that it was connected with sex and infidelity.
"Isn't there anything better on?" I asked with a sigh.
"This is almost finished." Sundar responded without taking his eyes off the screen.
Raising an eyebrow at his response I started to watch him as well as the program; I soon noticed that he seemed more interested when the main protagonists were female. His interest seemed really piqued when the women became physical with each other; at first I thought it was seeing the women fighting that interested him, but then I realised that he was eagerly watching in case one of the women tore clothing off the other. Well this was pretty much normal hormonal teenaged male behaviour; my mother had once commented to me that young male teens could get excited over a button popping. In a sense it was a relief to know that my son was at least normal in this respect, this thought made me smile. Just at that moment my son looked over at me, he saw me smiling and smiled back before returning his attention to the television.
Later that night, while I lay alone in my bed, it occurred to me that sex might be an incentive my son would accept. There was of course one major problem with that, I had no idea whether he knew anything about sex, nor what he preferred; rather foolishly I'd left this area of his upbringing to my husband. I know he was going to have a fatherly talk with Sundar about the subject, but somehow I don't think he had ever done so. Obviously I was going to have to find out for myself just what my son liked, after all it would be pointless offering, say, sex magazines if I got him the wrong sort. I fell asleep still pondering this and those final thoughts affected my dreams. In my dreams I was showing myself off to my son, seemingly using my body to teach him about sex.
I woke the following morning feeling guilty about the subject of my dreams, frustrated and a little excited. Sighing I got out of bed, heading for the shower I was lost in thought; throughout my morning toilet I was thinking about how I could stir my son to study or at least to apply what he had learnt already. Luxuriating in the warmth of the shower I decided that I would talk to him when he got home from school that day, at the very least I had to tell him of the meeting I'd had with his tutor. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a movement through the frosted glass of the shower door, at first I dismissed it as imagination; then the movement came again and this time I had no doubt that I had seen a shadow figure. Apart from my son and myself the house was empty, which meant that there were only two possibilities, that a stranger had broken in and that I dismissed immediately; the second possibility was that it had been my son. But what would he want in the bathroom when he knew that it was occupied?
Puzzled I carried on with my shower, only now I faced the glass door and watched for any sign of movement, when there was none I once again began to believe that it had been my imagination at work. It was as I finished my shower and turned off the water that I was finally convinced that it had not been my imagination; as the flow of water stopped a figure crossed the bathroom, the bathroom door was a shadow block as it opened and closed. I stared through the frosted glass in stunned surprise; it was obvious that if my son had been in the bathroom that there could be only one reason for it, he had been trying to get a glimpse of me in the nude! Once I had got over my first shock I felt angry with my son.
Returning to my bedroom I decided to have it out with him, but as I dressed my anger cooled and out of nowhere came the memory of my dream about showing myself off to my son. Shocked at my thoughts I sat on the edge of the bed and sat there with my mind whirling and reeling, it was my son calling up the stairs to tell me he was off to school that finally snapped me back to my senses. Dressed only in bra and panties I dashed out of the bedroom to the top of the stairs.
"Sundar," I called down as I started to head downstairs, "I want to talk to you."
"What mum," he called, as he appeared at the foot of the stairs "I have to"
He stood looking up the stairs with his mouth hanging open and his eyes almost out on stalks, then he licked his lips and grinned.
"... Go before I'm late." He finished in a low voice, his eyes looking at me almost reverently.
"Okay, but I want you to come straight home from school today." I said, puzzled by his actions.
"Okay." He replied without further comment, which was unusual for him.
With one last almost wistful look up the stairs Sundar headed off for school, I heard the front door open then felt a cool draft on my skin and it was then that I realised just how little I was wearing. As the front door closed I retreated to my room to finish dressing, my thought now filled with the look on my son's face as he looked up the stairs at my barely covered body. To my amazement I realised that my nipples were hardening and, even more amazingly, my pussy was feeling a little moist. Fully dressed at last I headed down to the kitchen for a much needed cup of coffee, if it hadn't been for the fact that I needed to drive a little later on I would have substituted a large gin for the coffee. While I sat at the kitchen table sipping the hot brew a thought popped into my head that I should use my body as the needed incentive for my son.
