My ex’s mom caught me jerking off — and didn’t stop me

Alright, I debated posting this because it still doesn't feel real, but whatever. I've read some wild shit on here so maybe this won't seem so crazy.

So a few years ago I spent Thanksgiving at my ex's place. Looking back it was a weird situation, but at the time it didn't feel out of the norm. We'd broken up a couple months earlier, but it was one of those slow-burn breakups — nothing dramatic, just… over. Her parents had gotten divorced when she was little, and I had gotten close with her mom, Dana, while we were dating. Honestly I think I missed Dana more than my ex, she was always super nice. I was worried things would get weird between us since her daughter and I weren't together anymore. This particular year, she invited me to stay there anyway since my parents were out of town and she "didn't want me eating gas station turkey," which is a real quote.

Now, Dana. Fuck. Where do I even start? Mid-40s, blonde, curves that should be illegal. Think the kind of mom your friends warned you not to stare at but you always did. And I swear to god, she knew I stared. Always wore these loose robes or yoga pants that clung to everything, and she had this habit of talking to you with one hand on your shoulder — just enough contact to make your brain short out.

Anyway, ex wasn't there that night — she was off playing house with her new boyfriend. I ate dinner with Dana, we drank a little wine, nothing crazy. She kept calling me "sweetheart" and telling me how proud she was of me, which would've felt nice if I wasn't trying not to stare at her tits every time she leaned across the table.

I couldn't sleep that night. Not sure if it was the wine or the way her robe had slipped off her shoulder at one point and stayed there for, like, way too long. My room was right across the hall from hers. I kept replaying the whole night in my head, and yeah — I started jerking off. Under the sheets, slow strokes, thinking about how her robe barely covered her when she answered the door earlier that day. My ex never looked at me the way Dana did. Like she saw right through me.

I was mid-stroke, not even thinking, just kind of lost in it — and the door opened.

I thought I'd locked it. I swear I thought I did.

I panicked. Yanked the blanket up and just froze. She was standing there in that same robe — not tied anymore. Just barely draped around her. And she didn't leave. She didn't scream or apologize or act shocked. She just tilted her head, smirked, and said, "Don't stop on my account."

I legit thought I was dreaming. I didn't move. She took two slow steps into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed like this was normal.

"I figured this might happen," she said, voice low. "You've been looking at me like that for years."

I couldn't breathe.

Her eyes dropped to the blanket covering my lap and then back to mine. "Let me see."

I didn't move at first. I was rock hard and about three seconds from finishing, just from adrenaline alone. She reached over, grabbed the edge of the blanket, and pulled it down herself.

No hesitation. Just bold as hell.

And then she just… watched.

"Go ahead," she said. "I wanna see how you do it."

So I started again. Slow strokes, trying not to lose it instantly. She undid the tie on her robe without saying anything. No bra, no panties — just everything I'd been fantasizing about since the first time she picked me up from school sophomore year.

She leaned in, real close, her voice almost in my ear. "You've wanted to fuck me for a long time, haven't you?"

I nodded. Couldn't even talk.

"Then cum for me."

I came harder than I ever have in my life. Like, embarrassingly hard. All over my stomach and chest and probably the sheets too. She reached out, smeared a little across my chest with her fingertip, then sucked it off her finger.

I fucking died.

Then she stood up, adjusted her robe, and said, "Sleep well, sweetheart."

And left.

I didn't sleep at all. I stared at the ceiling, naked and sticky, wondering what the hell just happened.

We haven't talked about it since. She texts me sometimes — casual stuff, never flirty. But every time I get a message from her, my dick twitches. And every year around Thanksgiving, I think back to that night and pray that I get another invite.