[The following story is fictional, and all characters are of legal age.]
From my earliest memories, it has always been just my mother and me. She divorced my abusive father when I was just a baby, so she's been a single working mother raising her only son, occasionally dating but never remarrying or otherwise altering the family dynamic.
It was only with the vantage of adulthood did it occur to me how lonely her life must have been, how unfulfilled was her deep need for romantic love, for a passionate and even physical relationship. That realization began at the end of high school, when she showed me more of her inner life than she perhaps ever intended.
I had just turned 18 earlier that year, but I still followed the routine we had established years before. I still had a strict bedtime on school nights, but on the weekends I could stay up as late as I wanted, so long as I was able to keep up with the chores and yardwork.
I would now frequently stay up later than my mom, reading and playing videogames until she went to bed and afterwards checking out the more adult movies on cable TV, both the trendy, foul-mouthed thrillers and the frankly less artistic softcore porn.
It was late one Friday night that my mom startled me with her latent sexual desire. As she was about to go to bed, she called to me in the den, and I came to meet her at the entrance to the hallway that led to our bedrooms. She had been drinking as usual, but as usual she seemed to have full control of her faculties: she was obviously tired, but one would have to struggle to find the hint of Scotch on her breath.
She wished me goodnight and told me not to stay up too late, and I leaned in to give her a hug and a kiss -- a platonic kiss on the lips, as we had done literally thousands of times before.
But this time... this time, she squeezed me a little too hard, her kiss was a little too firm, and her lips were parted ever so slightly but to me all too noticeably.
Her lips clung to mine, oh so briefly, and she smiled, almost contentedly, as she told me goodnight again and shuffled away down the hall.
I was stunned. I didn't know what to do or how to react as my fingers touched my lips, the lips that my mother had just kissed, briefly but passionately. I was unlucky in love all through high school, so I had never had a kiss like this one. I didn't put my thoughts into words, and I couldn't articulate the fact that my mother had given me my first real kiss -- much less would I acknowledge the stirring in my gym shorts.
To distract myself from what just happened, I went straight to watching porn, but every passionate kiss echoed that kiss -- that kiss! -- a romantic kiss from my own mother, and after I masturbated I couldn't bring myself to see why my orgasm was so much more powerful.
