"I will never stop enjoying this book," said Lily. She was sitting with her feet up in a large leather chair, wrapped in a cozy blanket under the yellow lamplight. A worn copy of Little Women rested in her gentle fingers, one-third progress marked by the insertion of her thumb. Her hair, the color of milk chocolate, was tied into a loose bun, and a few strands fell around her reading glasses. She smiled warmly at her son, her expression inadvertently charming him.
"How many times have you even read Little Women?" asked Alex. He bookmarked the current page of his own book and took a sip of his tea.
"This is the fourth time," she answered. Alex shook his head and chuckled.
"There are a lot of books out there," he said. "You're really missing out on a lot of good reads if you keep re-reading the same five books."
"I do NOT read the same five books!" she exclaimed playfully, dimples showing alongside her grin. She groaned as Alex listed off a couple of books that she couldn't deny having read multiple times. "What do you propose I read then?" she asked her son.
He thought intentionally for a moment. Wickedness took over and her imagined giving her an erotic novel, or perhaps some online literature, making her horny... no, that wouldn't do. He may have had a major crush on his mother for as long as he could remember, but that would always be it. No Freudian fantasy would come true today, and not ever, no sir.
"You should try something short. I did find a new short-story online that was pretty good," he said. "It's a romance- right up your alley."
Lily looked at him amusingly. "You're a romantic, huh? Like mother, like son."
He shrugged and tried to keep himself from blushing. His mother was into romance novels and movies, and he recalled a time when they had watched a particularly steamy one. They had been sitting next to each other on the couch, and for much of the movie he had been incredibly fearful of one accidental move and her discovery of his erection. Since then, he had been hesitant to sit near her while they watched movies.
"I'm going to reheat my tea. Do you want me to do yours to?"
He nodded and handed her the mug. If this was in a porno, he could have said "I would love to have you do mine," and then they'd start doing each other. As his mother walked away, he couldn't help but stare at her ass as it swayed naturally across the room. At this point in his life, he had just about accepted that nothing would ever happen between them, so he took every chance he could to look at her and fuel his fantasies. Later, his hand would relieve his fantasy, through stroke or through storytelling.
His latest work- a short mother/son story- had so far received a 4.7/5 rating. Not bad, considering the behemoth of exceptional writing that was on the erotic website. It seemed that writing was the one true way to get out his built-up incestuous energy. Masturbation was a temporary solution (unless he jacked off five times a day, which he had done on more than one occasion), and sex with real girls was generally only physically satisfying. Putting words to pages was his primary outlet.
"So can I read this short story?" Lily asked from the kitchen, interrupting his thoughts.
"Yeah," he called back, "I'll pull it up on my tablet later."
He had discovered his love for literature by the end of high school. For most of his confused existence, he was frustrated that he couldn't have what he truly wanted. But that was history. Writing came first, encouraged by his eleventh-grade English teacher. Until then, no one had expressed confidence in his ability, and her doing so made all the difference in the world. He began to write outside of his school assignments, starting with short narratives and later dipping his toes into poetry. Reading came next, at first as a way to improve his writing (every good writer is a good reader, his teacher had said). But soon he fell in love with the stories, his imagination inspired by mere words on a page.
So now he was a creative writing major and a psychology minor. He liked to write and he liked to understand people. Or maybe he still longed to understand himself.
Now it was early November, and finals were coming up soon, but he didn't feel the need to study. He was taking easy classes and was confident that he would graduate. Instead, he dedicated most of his free time into writing and reading. He was glad that he stayed home this year, his fourth and final year instead of living in an apartment, even if it was a further drive to campus.
It's worth it, he thought as his mom walked back into the living room. She set his tea on the coaster for him and smiled. He thanked her and tried to continue reading, though he acknowledged that a certain pattern of thoughts had begun, and it would be difficult to focus.
A few minutes went by, and Alex looked at his mom. She was engaged with the paperback, her expression one of focus. Her arms were squeezed together at just the right angle to cause her breasts to huddle together, a long line of cleavage protruding from the top of her scoop neck shirt. Mesmerized, he stared absentmindedly.
Lily's eyes darted at him suddenly, and he looked straight down at his book. It was quick, but just enough time that his gawking was noticeable. She said nothing, and he didn't dare glance back up to check if she had reacted. The blood rushed to his face, and he gulped silently.
"How's the book?" Lily asked. He shrugged and closed it.
"It's fine. I think I'm gonna go write."
"Okay," she said, turning her attention back to her book. As he walked by, he caught a slight smirk on her face. Either she figured what he was really going up to do, or she liked his gawking... or both.
The first thing he did was lock his door.
Alex pulled up a website for erotic stories on his tablet and found the incest category- a section of literature he was familiar with. With his mother on his mind, he read through a short story about a model her son that helped take pictures for her when her previous photographer left. The photo sessions turned hot very quickly. Alex wanked onto a tissue.
He laid still for a moment and nearly dozed off before grabbing his laptop and settling into typing a story of his own. The word count was only at about 2000; he was having trouble getting started.
"Maybe I could leave my laptop out for mom to find," he whispered to himself. He tended to whisper aloud while writing. "She could help me finish it... maybe with some practical brainstorming."
With a slight grin he shook his head. Like his mom would ever buy into that.
After about ninety minutes of thinking and typing he had put down a couple of pages. Not bad, considering he had retyped at least half of it. He began to get up but remembered that he was supposed to find a short story for his mom. He switched out of private mode on his browser and found a more family-appropriate website containing literature that he enjoyed reading. It took a moment, but he found one that he liked at opened it up for his mother to read. He left his room, bringing his tablet with him.
Meanwhile, Lily had been looking outside, appreciating the calm October weather through the living room window. The house was still- it had been since Alex had gone upstairs- and the silence made her feel eerily alone. But nature always lifted her spirits, even if she could only see the reddened maple trees littered along their block.
A couple walked by the house walking their dog. They had to be about Lily's age, maybe in their mid-forties, and they looked happy, as they walked past and Lily saw their backs, the man cupped the woman's ass before giving it a gentle slap. The woman jumped and swatted at his arm in disapproval, though her smile said otherwise. She looked around wildly for any observers, but as far as Lily was aware she was the only one who saw it, and she wasn't caught.
Without realizing it, she drifted off into a daydream. She reached down and... wait, why was she wet? Damn, she was horny, even after something as small as a pat on the butt. She sipped her tea and thought, her heart feeling powerful yet desolate. It wasn't the ass slap... it was the couple's closeness. She hadn't been with a man since Jack left, and that was what, eight years ago?
"Fuck," she muttered. Eight years! Nothing to please her for eight years except her hand, vibrator, and the dirty fables of the internet. She sighed and touched herself again; she wasn't going to dry off anytime soon.
Lily attempted to drift away to the bedroom when her son came down the stairs. Startled, she gasped and clutched her chest.
"Sorry," he said, stopping at the foot of the stairs. "You okay?"
"Yeah, just got lost in a daydream." She walked into the kitchen and set her empty mug in the sink.
