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This story belongs to my growing series: 1000 Words: Picture Stories. If a picture is worth a thousand words, can I paint a scene with the same limitation? The stories in this folder are self-contained, and not interrelated, other than the requirement that they contain exactly 1000 words.

Claire hadn't truly believed she was going to go through with her plan until the moment finally arrived. The trap in the attic had been set, and her prey walked obliviously through the kitchen downstairs. How would he react? She couldn't know. Would he ever forgive her? Could he possibly understand how difficult this was for her?

"Son?" the skunk called loudly.

"Yeah, Mom?" her fifteen-year-old son answered from far off.

"I need help carrying a chest in the attic, can you come up here?"

"Can't Elisa do it? I'm making a sandwich."

She used her best 'stern mother' tone and said, "Your sister is still at soccer practice. Come on, it won't take long."

She pictured him muttering as he walked upstairs to the attic door. She waited there, quivering in anticipation. Each plodding step by her son felt like eternity. Finally, Ryan reached the top step. Her young skunk looked around the attic, sniffing. She interrupted, "It's that chest over there," pointing at the heavy object placed far from the steps.

Ryan sighed and approached it, his mother close behind. Halfway there, he turned. "What's that smell, Mom? It's so musty up here. But not like mold."

She took her son's hand in hers. She had spent the last three days masturbating furiously in the attic, and the scent of her heat inundated it. Her odor had plastered her son's nose by now. She said, "Ryan. I know what you've been doing at night."

The young skunk took a step back in surprise. "Y-you what?"

"You've been masturbating."

Her son's ears drooped, thinking he was in trouble. Or perhaps thinking this was the most awkward thing that would ever be said to him. He was wrong on both counts.

"How did you know?"

"Considering the sounds and scents coming from your room, it wasn't a hard guess."

"Uh, uh. I'm sorry? I'll stop if you want, I didn't mean..."

It was now or never. The trap had been sprung and every piece was in place. She was surprised at how easy it was for her. Claire said, "I do want you to stop, son. Because there's no reason you should have to do that alone."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. She clarified, "You could join me."

His jaw dropped. "In...masturbating?"

She smiled and said, "And more."

There was an awkward silence as it finally sunk in that his mother was seriously propositioning him. She was a beautiful skunk, she knew that much. But since her husband's death, she hadn't been able to form a lasting relationship with other men. It had been years since she had last had sex.

"This is a bad joke, Mom."

With a deft motion, she split the front of her blouse down the middle, opening it and revealing her lightly-furred, naked breasts. She said, "I'm not joking, son."

His eyes popped open in disbelief. "You're my mother! This's wrong!"

"What's wrong is each of us masturbating alone, when we could be together, Ryan. It will feel so good."

Ryan gaped. "It's taboo! What about inbreeding? Mom..." he protested.

With a magician's flourish, Claire produced a packaged condom in her right hand.

Recognizing it, Ryan stepped back, saying, "Mom, you're scaring me."

"It's okay, son," she said, taking his hands again. "I won't make you do anything." She lead him toward the sleeping bag she had placed there that morning. Her son was dazed by the scent hanging in the room, walking with her and sitting obediently on the bag.

He said, "Mom, we can't..."

She ignored him, turning around in front of him and sliding her skirt down her legs. Her son watched, her curvy rump at eye level as she lowered her panties and lifted her tail, suddenly revealing her wet womanhood. He took a deep breath, and she watched happily as the bulge in his shorts grew.

Claire removed her blouse, now naked. The forbidden thrill had her sopping wet, eager to feel the young man inside her. She looked over her shoulder and said, "You still refuse?"

As if possessed, Ryan threw off his clothes. She gasped as she saw her son's impressive, firm cock protruding from his sheath. The change in her son's attitude was dramatic. He stood, grabbing her sides and pushing her down to all fours. She gasped, surprised. He knelt behind her, his throbbing erection inches from her pussy. It was really going to happen! She offered the condom.

Ignoring it, he climbed onto her back, shoving her large tail aside, his tongue lolling from his mouth. Claire yelped, "Ryan, wait, the condom!"

Gripping his mother's breasts, Ryan pushed his virgin dick swiftly between her vaginal lips. Squelch! She had been ready for days, and he slid in to his hilt. But he wasn't wearing protection!

"Ryan, don't!" she moaned. His wide cock pounded her, her entire body shivering. It felt so good, she didn't want him to stop, but she knew the young virgin couldn't last long. She had to get him off of her before he came.

But Claire felt too good. She had fantasized about her son for years. How long could he last? Ten thrusts? Fifteen? He was on his fourth, each one sending his mother into moaning ecstasy. His animalistic grunts filled the air. She couldn't help but push back against her son's hard cock, forcing him deep between her legs. "Oh, Ryan!"

He was on his tenth thrust, his balls quivering. She knew he was close to filling her unprotected womb. How many more thrusts could she risk before pulling away? Fifteen, she decided, clenching around his eleventh. But his twelfth thrust spread her heat-swollen pussy wide, holding himself deep within her, moaning. "Son, no!" she cried, but he fired load after load into her eager, shuddering cunt. Too late!