Norman Bates sighed as the voice on the other end of the telephone rattled off numbers and jargon that, frankly, left the young and newly appointed motel manager clueless. Although Norman's mother gave him the position of manager, Norman wasn't well-versed in the business side of things yet, and still looked to his mother for the answers to those types of questions.

"Sir," said Norman, interrupting the demanding and impatient man shouting in his ear, "I will relay this information to the hotel owner and get back to you as soon as possible." Despite being a high school student, Norman had a way with words, as well as the maturity level and tact to handle situations like this one. Before another word was said, Norman heard the click of the other party's telephone. Another sigh as he glanced down at the notes he had written down on his call – numbers, along with scattered words filled the page. He scratched his head with a frown. He wanted, so badly, to be able to handle his position at the motel on his own. His mother had so much faith in him when she decided to appoint him motel manager. She believed in him. The last thing he could do was let her down. However, he knew in this case, he needed his mother's help.

Norman glanced down at his watch. Twelve-thirty on the dot. Norman having a more hands-on role at the motel gave his mother more time to attend to her non-motel duties and chores. Norma had been leaving Norman in charge beginning around noon each day. The hour or two spent away from the motel allowed Norma to run her errands, to start dinner, or to clean the house. Norman liked that she trusted him to be on his own for that long, and Norma appreciated now having more time to get things done. In most situations, Norman would wait until his mother returned to fill her in on anything she had missed. In this case, the man who had called made the situation seem urgent and Norman did not want to do anything to risk their business. Norman grabbed his notes and walked out of the lobby of the motel, locking the door behind him. Business had been slow; he was sure he wouldn't miss any incoming guests. Besides, he would likely be right back.

Up the steep outdoor steps Norman headed, fully expecting to find his mother in the kitchen working on their lunch. "Mother…" he called out softly as he made his way inside, continuing, "There was a man who called about…-" Norman stopped as he noticed the empty kitchen. Mother was not in there. A bit odd, but not totally questionable. She was likely in one of the bathrooms scrubbing the tub or in her bedroom ironing her skirts. Mother was very particular and serious about her chores.

After taking a quick glance around all the rooms on the main floor, Norman began to walk up the stairs. He was just about to reach the landing when he heard what sounded like a muffled cry coming from one of the rooms. It was a soft noise, but loud enough for Norman to know that it was something unusual. It was then that Norman noticed his mother's bedroom door was slightly open. Privacy was a foreign concept to Norman and Norma, and it was rare that either of them shut themselves in their bedrooms like that. Norman furrowed his brow as he stepped closer to his mother's room. There was the noise again. Before calling out to his mother, he decided he would take a quick glance through the ajar door. As he peered inside, the noise came again; this time, it was unmistakable. What he had heard was not a cry at all – well, not a cry of sadness or of pain.

Norman's eyes widened at what he saw ahead of him. His mother flat on her back, her eyes shut, her lips parted, her head tilted. The bottom of her skirt was lifted to her belly and her legs were spread. Norman could see the color of her underwear – black. What he saw next he almost couldn't believe. His mother's delicate hand dipped inside of the black lace garment, which caused her to let out another audible sigh.

"Mmm…" Norma moaned, as her hand began to touch and circle around inside of her panties.

Norman held in a gasp. Was his mother touching herself? In his mind, that is something prim and proper Norma Bates did not do. Norman stepped back from the door, uneasy at the thought. He shook his head. No, he must be mistaken. That's not what is going on.

Again, he moved to the door, his eyes darting to his mother's bed. It seemed as though her hand was moving faster; he could see her feet twisting and her toes curling. Another moan escaped his mother's lips.

That is exactly what she was doing.

Norman froze. His mind was full of conflicting thoughts. He should walk away and never speak to her about it. Ever. That is what he should do. He should just walk away.

Norman stepped back again and as he was about to pivot to leave, an even louder sound came from the bedroom. A moan, one that reeked of pure ecstasy. The less rational side of Norman, the one that he didn't always know or remember, urged him to go back and look again. After all, it was no secret to Norman that he had always felt some level of attraction to his mother. And though it was his mother, and he knew that it was wrong and inappropriate, he also sometimes wondered if he cared. He loved her and he knew it – what was wrong with appreciating the beautiful woman that she was? The conflict in his mind continued, however, Norman approached the door once again.

Inside the bedroom, Norma's hand was moving at a rapid-fire pace; her back was arched as her heels dug into the mattress. "Mmm, ooh, mmm…" Norma moaned, her volume amplifying as she brought herself closer and closer to her orgasm. Norman stood, his eyes fixed on the sight in front of him. Though his experience with sex was limited, Norman knew what was about to happen. And he still could not believe it.

A second later, Norma's body was trembling as her free hand gripped the quilt on her bed. She was cumming and Norman knew it. Norma's eyes stayed closed as she rode out her orgasm, her sounds becoming more breathy and shallow. Norman continued to stare as his mother laid on the bed, her limbs relaxed now as her chest rose and fell quickly with her breathing. After a few seconds, Norma sat herself up and smoothed out her skirt. She stood from the bed and walked to her vanity. Norman wondered if this was something she had done quite often. It almost seemed routine, the way she got herself up and made herself appear presentable again so quickly. Not wanting to be seen, Norman quietly made his way down the stairs and took a seat at the kitchen table. Undoubtedly, Norma would be coming down to fix their lunch any minute. Norman placed the papers he'd been holding down on the table in front of him and glanced over them. His eyes were unable to focus, his mind still reeling from what he had just seen. It was a good thing he had taken notes. He'd completely forgotten what his earlier phone call had been about.

Norman heard the familiar creak of the stairs, which broke his thoughts suddenly. Mother.

Norma stepped into the kitchen. She jumped ever so slightly as she spotted the figure of a man sitting at the table. "Oh honey, you scared me!" She sighed, relieved to see that it was just her boy. "Is everything okay? Why aren't you at the motel?"

Norman looked at his mother. Her skirt was perfectly smooth and at the length it was supposed to be again; her hair perfectly tamed; her heeled shoes snug on her feet. It was almost as if that hallway voyeur experience hadn't just happened. But the look on Norma's face gave it away. She looked so…relaxed. Content, happy, like a sudden rush of endorphins had just hit her. It did happen. It was real. And Norman had to pretend like everything was normal.

He nodded, "Yes mother, everything is fine. I just…uh…I got a phone call from someone who says he's with the town. Something about surveying the property or something, I'm not sure exactly what…"

Norma's face was bright. A small smirk came across her lips. No way that smile was for what he had just said. No, was she even listening? It was the afterglow. He was sure of it.

Norma walked closer to him, "What would you like for lunch, Norman? I have to go to the grocery store, so we don't have too many options. Grilled cheese okay?" She smiled an even bigger smile as she leaned down to Norman on the top of his head. "You're so handsome, sweetheart." She grinned as she walked over to the refrigerator and began to gather the necessary ingredients for Norman's sandwich.

She didn't hear what he said. It was like she was in another land. And it was starting to irk him. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the simple fact that he had just seen his mother masturbating. That's not something any son should have to witness. He wondered if that is why she'd been leaving him every day to "attend to chores." Was this the reason she began this new schedule? Was this more important to her than working with him at the motel, together? Why would she want to leave him to go do that?

It then hit him.

The irritation he was feeling was suddenly all too familiar. It was the same sinking feeling that came over him any time he knew she would be going out with a man. The sickness he felt when he'd watch her leave the house in some other man's car. It was what anyone else would call jealousy. Norman refused to use that word. He was protective, sure. Concerned for his mother, of course. But never jealous; but now the feeling was back, and he was starting to wonder why exactly that was.

The next day, Norman made it a point to lock up the motel lobby and be in the house by twelve-thirty. He wanted to prove to himself that he was wrong; that his mother would not be wasting her precious free time doing something so…selfish. So inappropriate. Norman climbed the stairs to the second floor of the house. When Norman saw his mother's bedroom door in the same halfway open position it was the day before, he knew. He creeped close and glanced inside. Her blue floral dress was lifted enough to expose her hand in the same position he had seen it in the day before. She was at it again. Moaning, breathing, touching. Norman couldn't believe it. What had gotten into his mother? Or was this a side of her she kept from him? No matter the thought that crossed his mind, he couldn't pull himself away. He needed to see her in this; he needed to see it through until she was finished.

And he did.

For the next three days.

It had become routine. He found himself checking his watch more often as the afternoons approached. There was a part of him that was beginning to look forward to the show his mother was unknowingly putting on for him.

Day five was here and Norman decided to he wanted to know exactly how his mother began her act of self-pleasure. He waited until Norma was inside the house for about ten minutes before locking up and going in. He made sure to be quieter than usual now that he did not know where exactly his mother would be or what she would be doing. He approached the door; was it his imagination or was the door open a bit wider this time? He was careful to stay out of sight as he glanced over to his mother's bed. This time, her dress was not pulled up. Her hands were not inside of her panties. No, this time her dress was completely off. Her hand was in between her legs, on her bare skin. Norman gulped, as an instant ping of arousal stirred inside of him. In front of him was his mother's body, fully nude except for a satiny, black bra. Her legs were crossed, obstructing his view of her most intimate part. But that was all he needed to feel his cock start to swell. He had seen his mother undressed before, but this was different. What he was watching was a beautiful woman pleasure herself. For a second, he didn't register that it actually was his mother in front of him. But the second he heard those soft whines of pleasure, he was brought back to reality. That was his mother's voice. No mistaking it.

Norman could feel his cock growing in his pants as he watched his mother touch herself. He tried to ignore the erection, he even tried physically pushing it down and away. But the more he watched, the more he stared at his beautiful mother naked, writhing, moaning, fucking herself with her own hand the more he knew there was no hope for him. He let his hand graze the outside of his pants. This was so wrong but what he was watching was so right. He gave his bulge a squeeze, causing a soft moan to escape his own lips. He watched as his mother moved her fingers in circles, occasionally dipping them inside of herself. It was almost too much for him. Almost.

Until he heard something he never expected to hear. "Mmm, Norman…" his mother cooed softly. Norman's eyes widened. Had he heard that correctly? Not possible.

"Norman, baby…" There it was again. It was his name. His name coming from his mother's lips as she fucked herself silly. That was all it took.

Norman unbuttoned his pants and quickly unzipped the zipper. He didn't have time to think or agonize over what was happening or what he heard. He just knew that he needed to touch. His hand freed his throbbing cock from his boxers and pants and he began to stroke, all the while keeping his eyes glued on his mother. His hand gripped his cock as it moved up and down, somehow seemingly synchronizing with his mother's movements. That wasn't surprising – they were the same person. Same heart. And apparently, same rhythm.

Norma's moans became more rapid, louder, and it sent waves of pleasure right to Norman. He watched intently as he jerked himself off, his own soft moans coming from his lips now.

"Oh, mother," he whispered, his eyes never leaving the sight in front of him.

"Oh God, Norman," Norma cried as her fingers began to move in and out of her pussy. In that moment, Norman could only dream of being the one to make her scream like that. But this would have to do.

Norman had already learned how to tell when she was getting close. She had her tell-tale signs and he knew it was approaching. He was almost there as well, his cock pulsing hard as he stroked. He knew it wouldn't be long.

"Oh baby, oh Norman…Norman!" Norma moaned, her loudest moan yet, as she began to cum. It was all Norman needed to hear before he felt the last wave of pleasure hit him, followed by a throbbing, hard orgasm. He couldn't control himself, he couldn't hold himself back as he moaned, "God, mother! Yes, mother!"

He was loud. There was no getting around that one. Norma heard his exclamation and it made her immediately jump up from the bed with a gasp, "Oh shit, Norman!" She immediately went to the door and slammed it.

Fuck. He hadn't meant to let himself be heard or seen. He was so lost in the moment that the words just fell out of his mouth.

Norman gave himself one second to recover before tucking himself back in and fastening his pants. He quickly made his way to his own bedroom and shut the door behind him.

Shit.

Well. This was certainly going to be an interesting dinner conversation.