A Brief Romance

[The following story is fictional, and all characters are of legal age.]

Author's note:

This may be my only story posted here: in my entire life, this has been the only story of this particular kind that my brain has practically demanded me to write and publish.

In case I eventually stop checking for feedback or using this account altogether, I want to say that it has been a pleasure writing this story and publishing it here. The early feedback has been particularly gratifying.

-----

I enjoyed a passionate romance with my mother the spring and summer of my senior year of high school, after turning 18 earlier that year. Kissing led to sharing her bed, and soon we had all kinds of sex -- oral sex, anal sex, and the sixty-nine position. My mom had taken my virginity, and we shared our most secret fantasies.

Part of me thought this would never end, part of me suspected it couldn't last, but another part of me let me simply enjoy our time together.

I was slowly getting my things together for college as the end of summer approached, when my mom announced that we were going to the beach. It would be one last vacation before I left for school, making home a place I would just visit on occasion.

On the way, we stopped at a roadside restaurant for a late breakfast. It was clear that something was on my mother's mind, and noticing that we were in a nearly empty dining room, she took her opportunity to speak her mind.

"Sweetie," she began, hesitantly, as if she didn't know where to begin or didn't want to start this conversation. She took a breath and began again: "Sweetie, the last few months have been wonderful, but it really needs to end."

Part of me dreaded that this day would come, and I didn't want to make this harder on my mom than it had to be, but still I had to ask, "Why?"

"You should know why," she gently chided. "A mother and a son shouldn't have these sorts of feelings for each other, and we certainly shouldn't act on them. I realized I crossed a line with when we started kissing... you know, like lovers kiss... and I knew we would have to end this sort of behavior eventually."

"Why did you let things go so far?" I asked out of curiosity, not wanting to start an argument.

She sighed and smiled: "Because it was wonderful. You needed it, and maybe I needed it more. It had been so long since I had been with a man, and you're a handsome young man. I really do love you, and I know that you really love me, too.

"You really very sweet," she added, "making such a fuss over our first time: steaks and chocolate cake and my favorite movie. And that was wonderful, you taking me on the kitchen floor. I'm actually glad you took my anal virginity. I'll never do that kind of thing again, so you'll always be the one and only man to fuck me in the ass. And it's been incredible, watching you grow from a nervous virgin to a confident lover. But this can't go on forever."

"Does that mean we have to stop right now?" I asked, barely registering the compliments she was giving me.

"No, that's what this trip is for, sort of like a honeymoon in reverse. We'll have a few more nights together, and then things really do have to go back to normal."

"What if I don't want things to go back to normal? What if... What if I wanted to marry you?"

"Oh, sweetie," she replied, reaching out to touch my hand. "That really is a lovely thought, but it's not real life. We've been living out a fantasy, it's certainly more real than those dirty movies that you probably shouldn't have been watching, but it's still just a pretty daydream that has to come to an end.

"You have to go to college and start a life for yourself. You have to find a girl you love, who loves you as much as I do, and you have to start your own family: you have to give me grandchildren so I can dote on them as their Grandmomma."

My thoughts went back to high school and the miserable experience I had asking girls out and getting shot down.

"What if I don't find anybody?"

"You will," she insisted, and I felt her confidence that transcended any desire to console me with any happy fictions. "You're getting out from that tiny high school, and you're getting into the real world. You'll find somebody, you'll adore each other, and you'll probably break my heart a little by making me jealous."

Breakfast arrived, and we thanked the waitress as my mom waited for her to leave in order to continue.

"I'm sure you'll go out there with a lot more confidence, now that you know how to... how to make a woman happy. I expect you to wait until marriage, but whenever my future daughter-in-law finds out how good you are in bed, just tell her this: the summer after high school, you had a brief love affair with an older woman who taught you everything you know."

"What's the line from that song you like?" I asked with a grin.

"'Older women are beautiful lovers.'"

Happy enough but getting my head around what this trip would mean, I quietly ate my eggs and bacon, cheese grits, and toast.

And I digested everything she said. I really should stop watching that late-night porn, and I definitely shouldn't let any kind of fantasy distract me so much that I miss what may be right in front of me. I've heard it said, there's somebody out there for everybody...

Suddenly stopping both my breakfast and my train of thought, I lifted my head to ask, "What about you, Momma?"

"What about me?" she asked in return.

"I don't want you to be lonely. I'm about to leave for college, so if you find someone that makes you happy, too, you should marry him. I'll try not to get jealous, and I know that you being happy is more important."

"That's sweet of you to say," she replied. "But no promises. I'm not sure I'd be happy to be married again, but you don't have to worry about that. You've given me memories to last a lifetime, and I'll know who to think about on a cold winter night."

I felt a small thrill, knowing that my mother might touch herself thinking of my touch -- my hands, my chest, and more -- and I knew that I too would cherish the memories of the past few months with my mom. This love affair would run its course, and we would act as if it never happened, but neither of us had to forget what happened between us.

We paid for breakfast, and I took the wheel to drive the rest of the way to the beach.

We listened to classic country music on the tape deck...

("Lovin' her was easier than anything I'll ever do again...")

...and we said how much we really did love each other. With our hands caressing each other's thighs, we confessed our abiding sexual attraction for one another. My mom thought I had grown into a handsome young man, and she frankly liked the size of my cock. I thought she was beautiful for a woman of any age, with her curly black hair, her fit body, her cute ass, and her firm, luscious tits.

We then had the most interesting conversations. She finally told me about all the men in her life, I finally opened up about my struggles finding dates, and she gave me her knowledgeable advice on how I could have greater success with women.

We pulled up to the hotel, and I had to ask my mom if she was sure this was the right place. She was normally pretty frugal, and we usually would stay at a motel a short walk from the beach, but this time she spent a bit more -- quite a bit more -- to make this vacation special.

We stayed at a high-rise beachfront hotel, in a suite facing the water with a spectacular view. The living area had its own TV and a sofa-bed couch ostensibly for me, the bathroom had a jacuzzi tub with ample room for two, and the large bed had luxurious silk sheets.

It was then that I fully realized the sort of vacation my mother planned, and I decided to act on it.

"I've never slept in silk sheets before," my mother whispered to no one in particular.

"Who says you're going to do much sleeping?" I asked, walking up behind her and grabbing her by the waist.

I began to kiss the back of my mother's neck through her hair, tickling her, and then my lips moved on to her ear lobe and her neck just below the chin bone. My hands moved up her body, unbuttoned her businesslike blouse, and worked their way to her breasts, popping them out of the cups of her bra to tease and tweak her nipples.

I laid my mother on the bed, very nearly tossing her onto her back. My hands reached under the skirt that just covered her knees, and I felt her bare skin up to the top of her thighs. Grabbing and pulling her silky white panties down and past her high heels, tossing them aside, I pushed my head under her skirt to lick her hairy pussy, already hot and wet from excitement.

Now something of an expert in cunnilingus, I brought her to the edge once, twice, three times before coming out from under her skirt, pulling down my pants, and pulling out my stiff, twitching manhood. We quickly made love in our disheveled clothing, and I controlled my thrusts to bring her to a climax just before I sprayed her pussy with my hot seed.

Holding each other as we came down, my mother laughed at how passionate I was, and she smiled at how much I had made her fantasy come true, being "taken" by a man who was overcome with desire.

-----

Though I still clearly remember that first time in the hotel and our last time as lovers, the rest of the time was something of a happy blur, a mix of a typical vacation with my mom, albeit with a more extravagant budget, and a kind of honeymoon between happy, horny lovers.

We went to the beach, where she tanned on a wooden rental chair while I floated in the water -- but not before I pulled her bikini aside to go down on her on the bed. We laid by the pool reading paperback books, but I would glance at her through my sunglasses and salivate over what I would do with her in the privacy of our room. We would fall asleep in each other's arms while my cock slowly relaxed in her pussy, and I would wake to her first stroking and then sucking my growing cock.

That last full day of our vacation, my mom mentioned that we could stay in our room doing nothing but make love, much as we did at home, that first full day as lovers. But she thought that it would be too upsetting to focus on what we were about to lose, so she suggested seeing the sights that afternoon before having one last night together.

That's exactly what we did. We walked along the pier to see old men fishing, we visited an ice cream store and a used bookstore where we both spent a few bucks, and we had an early dinner of fresh seafood -- oysters and crab with a side of bisque, and my mom insisted that the food would have an aphrodisiac effect.

Returning to the hotel room, we took a bath together in the jacuzzi tub. We scrubbed each other and groped at each other's now familiar bodies. I sat behind my mother and held her close to me, fingering her while my cock rubbed against her back.

We dried each other off, and at my mother's insistence we both donned the terry cloth bathrobes. We sat on the couch and made out like teenagers with our robes falling open. As our tongues wrestled with each other, she rubbed and gently scraped her nails along my chest, and I reached into her robe to feel the heavy weight of her soft breast.

Then, in a surprising reversal of our usual roles, my mom stood up and led me to the bed. She undressed me and took off her own bathrobe, and then she laid me on the smooth silk sheets.

She climbed on top of me, straddling my hips, and as I reached up to hold her waist and fondle her breasts, she grabbed my wrists and pinned them on the bed, just above my head.

She flattened herself on top of me, kissing my cheeks and my lips, first gently, then forcefully, and then gently again as if using her lips to memorize the outlines of my face.

Her tits rubbed against my chest, where every movement of her stiff nipples thrilled me. She leaned forward, bringing those nipples close to my waiting mouth before pulling away, giggling at my feigned agony and biting her lip at my very real desire.

Her hips grinded against mine, her pussy lips caressing the sides of my shaft without letting me penetrate her. No doubt she was enjoying herself, as she moaned every time my erection rubbed against her clitoris.

Even after months of making love, she was bringing me to new heights of pleasure, and trusting my mother wholeheartedly, I let her decide how our last act of passion would play out.

Soon enough, she let her hips move up my body enough that the tip of my manhood found the opening it craved, and then she moved back down with a shiver, her pussy slowly engulfing my cock.

Releasing my wrists, she took hold of my hands, interlacing my fingers with hers and doing a push-up to the sitting position, impaling herself on me.

Sitting up, she began to move back and forth, letting go of my hands to squeeze her own breasts, pulling at her nipples with her finger tips. With my hands finally freed, I grabbed her waist and began to move my own body to match her pace.

At times, our eyes met and we smiled; at other times, our eyes were nearly closed in pleasure. Her hands rested on my chest, and my hands moved from her hips to her breasts, fondling them while never losing the rhythm of our movements.

It wouldn't last forever, it couldn't last forever, but we were one flesh for one last time, letting our bodies share what our words could never adequately express.

Both of us moaned wordlessly and then hissed "fuck" as we exhaled. She called me by my name, and then -- for the first and last time as lovers -- I called her by her first name, causing us both to smirk while not losing the rhythm.

Then my mom tossed her head back, moaning loudly enough that I was sure people heard her in the hotel room nextdoor. Then she stared at me, grunting like an animal but determined to keep her eyes locked on mine.

The pressure built for both of us, the pace quickened, and I pulled my chest up to her body. I wrapped my arms around her back and pressed my face into those lovely titties, biting and suckling the stiff nipples, and she placed her upper arms on my shoulders, resting her head on the top of mine.

We were never closer physically, and with just a few more thrusts, we both climaxed, man and woman, mother and son: my hot semen shot into her wet, trembling pussy.

I collapsed backward onto the bed, still holding my mother tightly. She rested on top of me, her chest on mine as my manhood relaxed inside her. Breathing heavily, we held each other close as my cock popped out, leaving my seed inside her.

My mom rolled from on top of me, grabbing the sheet for both of us. We snuggled side by side, our warm bodies in each other's arms, resting between the coolness of the silk. As we came down from the heights of ecstacy, her hand continued stroking my back while mine reached down to squeeze that delicious, shapely ass of hers.

We kissed, first gently then passionately, our tongues slowly massaging each other one last time.

I finally broke the silence.

"I'm gonna miss this, Momma."

"I will too, sweetie."

"I love making love to you, and I think I like snuggling with you afterwards even more -- and I don't want this to end."

"Just hold me," she said, squeezing me tighter. "Focus on this moment, and it will seem like forever. It will be enough to last a lifetime."

I did exactly that, focusing on her body and her breathing until I slipped into a sound, dreamless sleep.

-----

For once I was the first to wake up, realizing immediately that our love affair had come to a perfect end. I woke up holding my mother tightly, her hand in mine and her back against me, seemingly more in mere affection than in the dying embers of our passion.

In the very pale light of dawn, I slipped out of bed, covering my mother to protect her now sacrosanct modesty.

Despite wanting to keep her musk on me forever, and despite a previous willingness to walk around in the hotel room completely naked, I took a quick shower and dressed for the day. Then I quietly tiptoed to the hotel room balcony with my purchase from the used bookstore -- one of my English teacher's favorite books, The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, translated by Edward Fitzgerald.

I quickly skimmed the short book of ancient poetry, finding the stanza my teacher quoted so frequently when grades were announced:

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

⁠Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

The moving finger writes: time marches on.

Soon my mother -- my mother and no longer my lover -- would wake up. She would sit up in bed, the sheet wrapped around her naked body. I would kiss her on the cheek and soon learn that neither of us would dare even a chaste kiss on the lips and risk things getting out of hand.

I would go down to the hotel lobby to get their free breakfast and scan the day's newspaper, bringing a cup of coffee to my mother only after giving her ample time to dress in total privacy. We would pack up, check out, and head home, where our life would carry on as if nothing happened.

Then I would pack for a different trip and go to college: I would start a new life and hopefully find a wife sometime in the next few years -- another woman who would be a perfect fit for me, who would love me with her whole heart, and who might just need me with her whole body.

One chapter ends, another chapter begins.

I had lost my first lover, but we still cared for each other as mother and son, we would always be there for each other as close friends, and we would both hold tight to the memories we made over these last few months.

I would never forget the brief romance I shared with my mother.