A Need Fulfilled

This is part one of a series titled

Knowing Me

A big thank you to my editor, Talynnda

*

Suzanne gripped the handrails and pulled herself up the steps of the pool. It was amazing how beautiful she looked. The way her back arched, her breasts thrust forward, her glistening hair trailing over her shoulders was beautiful. In my mind, I tried to freeze the picture right there. A perfect snapshot of her perfect form.

Squeezing the water from her long blonde hair, she strode toward me and picked up a towel from the lounge chair next to mine. If I would have realized that I was staring at her, I would have been self-conscious. But I was too wrapped up in her perfection to notice. It's not like I hadn't ever seen her before--she is my mother after all. Although my grandmother had raised me, my mother had lived nearby and when I was a child I had often dropped in to visit her. I guess I've always had a thing for her: always been a little bit in love with her. Everyone fell in love with Suzanne. She had the glamour of old-time movie starlets like Rita Hayworth and Lana Turner. She was gentle and funny and smart and compassionate. I remember when I was little how fascinated I was by her ultra-shiny honey blonde hair and her sky blue eyes. She always smelled so fresh and clean, and when I was lucky enough to snag her attention for a while, I would sit on her lap and bury my face in her neck, breathing in her scent. It wasn't sexual back then--it was the infatuation of a little boy who craved attention from a mother who wasn't yet prepared for motherhood. Suzanne wasn't what you'd call a "kid person". She loved me, but I wasn't really like a son to her. I was more like a cute little neighbor boy who would come by to visit once in a while. When she gave birth to my twin sister and me at age 18, she just wasn't prepared to handle the demands of being a mom to 2 newborns and our 2-year-old sister. I knew she would never be like a real mom to my sisters or me. Perhaps I should have been angered by that, but I tried to understand her. I loved her, flaws and all.

I saw some of the men she dated when I was younger. Since my father's suicide, which happened a month before I was born, she hadn't had another long-term relationship. But she loved the company of men, and there were times when I'd come to visit and she would be on the couch with a man, half undressed. Or they would be in the bedroom and I could hear what they were doing. Even in my grade-school years I had a sense of what she would do with those men, and I was jealous. Not jealous of the sexual gratification they were getting from her, for I was too young to care about that yet, but jealous of the attention she gave them. I wanted to be the center of her universe. She was a beacon of shining light to me, but I was just one of thousands of stars in the sky for her. In those moments when she would shower me freely with her love and attention, I would just light up. She made me shine.

Now she was standing before me, 39 years old, and looking as stunning as ever. The little boy in me was charmed by her innocent, playful flirtations. The man in me was seduced by her graceful movements, her lean, toned body, and her firm round breasts. She was all the things a woman should be, all at the same time. My mind was spinning, wanting to love her like I had as a child, yet longing to touch her with the desire of a man.

That's when she noticed me staring. My gaze was fixated on--where else? Her breasts. It wasn't even a particularly revealing swimsuit. It was a dark blue one-piece, rather modest, with low cut thighs and a neckline that only showed a small amount of cleavage. But I was hypnotized. I ached to put my face to her chest, to breathe in her intoxicating scent once again, to take her nipple in my mouth.

She leaned down a bit and looked me in the eyes, breaking the spell I was under. Her eyes sparkled and crinkled at the corners as she turned her mouth into a little smile.

"Hello! Earth to Joey! Come in Joey!" She waved her hand in front of my face. "I hope the fantasy I'm starring in is a good one!" I looked away, turning red with embarrassment.

"Sorry," I said, "didn't mean to leer at you like that." I gave a self-conscious laugh.

She sat down on the lounge next to me and reached for my hand. "It's okay--I'm flattered."

She was smiling and from the way the words came out of her mouth I could tell she was flirting with me. All my life she had been playful with me, but I had been a child, and her playfulness hadn't been aimed at getting me into bed. She had simply related to me on the same level that she related to other males, but in a G-rated sort of way. She flirted with all men, and I didn't usually take it seriously. Lately, though, there had been an edge to her teasing, a seriousness that showed in her eyes. It never lasted long, though. I could never examine it long enough to be sure. Her seductiveness was like a dragonfly--it zoomed in when you weren't expecting it, a little motion you could see from the corner of your eye, and on its path to god-knows-where, it would stop right in front of your face, hovering in space as it examined you. Then, in a flash, it would be gone.

"Really, I shouldn't have ogled you like that. It was rude."

"Joey, look at me."

I turned and faced her. Although she was still smiling, she had a more serious look on her face now.

"Baby, you have needs like all men do. I can't fault you for looking at me, especially right now. After all, it's been a while since you've been with anyone, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess it has."

My wife had left me one month before, and we hadn't had sex for weeks before she left. It occurred to me that my sexual frustration might be contributing to my deepening feelings for my mother.

I should stop torturing myself

, I thought.

Nothing will ever happen between us

. I considered moving out. I didn't need to stay with my mother--I could afford a place of my own. But my soon-to-be ex-wife was staying in our condo until the house she wanted was ready, and I really loved that condo. I was planning on moving back in as soon as Heather moved out. It seemed silly to rent an apartment for just a few weeks. Besides, I really liked staying with Suzanne. Now that I was an adult she really enjoyed spending time with me. She showered me with the attention I had always craved from her, and her flirting made me feel energized and invigorated. I found myself hoping that Heather's house wouldn't be ready any time soon.

I was feeling flirtatious now. I smiled playfully, and Suzanne smiled and winked at me in return.

"Perhaps you haven't been practicing enough self love lately. Have you been neglecting yourself?"

"Mom, I'm 21 years old. I know when my sexual frustrations have built up to the point that I need a release. Trust me, I haven't been neglecting my needs."

"Okay then. And if you want to fantasize about me, then you have my permission. Not that you need it, of course."

"Well, it's nice to know that I have your blessing." I gave her my cutest grin.

She took a breath, rubbed the back of my hand roughly, then said, "Let's go into the house and get some lunch."

-------

The rest of the afternoon flew by. It was a Saturday, but I needed to catch up on work from the office, so I sat at the computer and tried to concentrate. My thoughts kept returning to Suzanne.

I gave up trying to get any paperwork done and resigned myself to a night of watching T.V. I went into the den, and not long after I had sat down on the couch my mother came in to join me. She stretched out on the couch beside me and put her head on my shoulder.

"You've been sitting at that computer half the day. I figured it would be nice to spend some time with you tonight."

"Yeah, I had a lot of work to do. But now I'm ready to relax. I was hoping to find a good movie to watch."

She took the remote from the table and idly flipped through the channels. I was hoping that she would flirt with me again tonight. I didn't think there was a chance that we'd ever go all the way, but her playful teasing energized me, and I always looked forward to it, unpredictable as it was.

Lately she had been trying to act like more of a mom to my sisters and me. It was difficult trying to get used to her acting like a mom. I could talk bluntly and honestly with her about subjects that would make a sailor blush, and she would talk right back to me without a hint of embarrassment. She gave me sex tips, talked about sex toys, and extolled the virtues of masturbation. Talking about sex was always easy for us. But then sometimes she would go into "mom mode" and lecture me about my work hours, tell me to call my sister, or spit on a tissue to wipe my face. To an outsider she could look like either a typical mom or a hormone crazed nymph. It just depended on which day it was. And I never knew which Suzanne she would be at any given time.

This is where we stood at this moment--a woman who wanted to be a mother but didn't know how, and a man who desperately wanted his mother's love but had no idea what a normal mother's love really was. We were both so fucked up.

Tonight she didn't seem to be in a flirtatious mood. She settled on a show and reclined back on the couch, her head against the arm and her legs stretched out along its length. I reached over and rubbed her feet and her calves. She occasionally glanced over and smiled at me, but her attention was fixed on the T.V.

After a while she reached out her arm and invited me to take her hand. I wrapped my fingers around hers and she gently tugged me toward her.

"Come here, you, and cuddle up with me."

She slid down so that her head was on the arm of the couch and I moved in behind her, spooning her as we both faced the T.V. At first I wasn't thinking about sex. I was just glad to be holding my mother so close. We lay there for a bit before I gently pulled her back, and she adjusted her position so she was lying on her back. I rested my head against her shoulder and draped my arm across her stomach. This closeness, however, filled me with desire. I couldn't stop looking down at her breasts, so round and perfect, covered now by a plunging V-neck top with little buttons down the front. I wanted to take her breast in my mouth. I wanted to suckle her as I had done when I was a baby, before she had left me. I played with the buttons on her shirt, wrinkling the fabric and straightening it out, trying my best to resist my urges. As I toyed with her top button, my hand brushed the underside of her breast. It was almost more than I could bear.

She slowly raised her arms, and with a stretch and a yawn said, "Baby, it's time for me to go to bed. It's getting late." She rose from the couch and went toward her room. Then she turned back toward me.

"Remember," she said, with a lilt to her voice, "if you need anything, my door is always open."

I said good night and lay back down on the couch, dissecting what had just happened and what she had just said. Was it an invitation? Was she just being playful, or was she actually trying to seduce me?

Would

she ever try to seduce me? I knew I needed to go to bed now, but whose bed? Hers or mine? I stood up. Turn right and I'd go to my room. Turn left and I'd go to hers. I turned right. I took a few steps, then I stopped. Then, taking a deep breath, I turned around and headed toward her room.

I knocked lightly and opened the door a crack. "Mind if I come in?"

"Of course not. Come here and lie next to me."

I crawled into bed beside her and found the same position we had been lying in on the couch. It had felt so good. But now she wasn't watching T.V.--her attention was on me. She began to stroke my head and play with my blonde curls. My hand picked up where it had left off before, barely brushing the underside of her breast. It didn't stay there. Tentatively I stretched my arm around her and lightly stroked the side of her breast. The curve of her flesh was enticing, and my mouth watered as I thought of taking her nipple into my mouth. I wanted it badly, but I didn't know how far she would let me go. Our level of intimacy was already far beyond normal for a mother and son, so perhaps I shouldn't have had any doubts. But this was incest, after all. Would she let herself succumb?

She rolled on her side to face me. I scooted down a bit and nuzzled her chest, my face buried in her cleavage. She continued to gently play with my hair and she bent to lovingly kiss me on the top of my head. I kissed her in the middle of her chest, then lightly on the inside of her breast, not on the skin, but on the part that was covered by her top. I kissed all around that way, staying away from her nipple, never letting my lips touch her flesh. I thought I heard a quiet little moan, but I wasn't sure. And the moan might have been mine; her loving touch and warm, sweet kisses filled me with rapture. My hand cupped her soft, silk-covered flesh and my fingers rested close to her nipple. I needed to feel it in my mouth, and I slowly let my lips brush against it. I could feel it harden beneath the fabric, and I heard myself say, "mmmm."

"Sweetie, is this what you need? Do you need to suckle mommy's breast?" Tenderly, she pulled the silk of her shirt back and placed her nipple to my mouth. I parted my lips, and sighing deeply, I began to suck. My head was filled with a strange mix of childish hunger and adult lust. I wanted her to hold me and sing me lullabies, but my adult body, with my adult libido, had other needs. I had an erection, and she felt it when I pressed against her leg. I pulled back and mumbled an apology.

She placed her hand under my chin and pulled me up so we were face to face. She looked deeply into my eyes.

"It's okay, baby," she whispered. "Don't be embarrassed. This is a very intimate situation. It's perfectly natural for you to become aroused." I loved her for being so understanding. I was relieved that I hadn't made her uncomfortable.

I kissed her on the cheek and put my head back to her chest. I continued to nuzzle her and brush my lips against her. I sucked greedily and hungrily. I tasted her nipple, rolling it across my tongue, then I pulled back slightly and licked her breast. As I took it in my mouth again, my hand wandered to her other breast, and pushing back her shirt, I felt her soft, warm flesh. Then I let go of the breast I had been sucking on and took the other one in my mouth.

She slid her hand under my shirt and rubbed my shoulders and my back. I alternated between licking and sucking, moaning and sighing. My hand wandered between my legs to stroke my aching cock through my denim shorts. I straightened up and nuzzled her neck. Urging me to sit up, she unbuttoned my shirt and looked down to see me rubbing the front of my shorts. She undid them and pushed my hand inside. That's the kind of mom I have: not only will she encourage me to pleasure myself when I feel the need, but she'll even be there with me and guide my hand to my dick. She slid my shirt off of me, then we lay down and faced each other again. I pushed the front of my shorts down as much as I could and freed my cock from its constraints. She watched me as I masturbated, then pulled me close to her body. I kissed her shoulders and her arms and I licked her nipples. I pushed my pelvis forward until the only thing separating my cock from her silk shorts was my hand. My fingers squeezed my dick tightly and the back of my hand pressed against her pubic bone. I moved my hand a little lower, until I felt the soft flesh between her legs. I hadn't realized it, but we were both moaning and breathing heavily. I stroked myself harder and faster and soon I felt my orgasm building inside me.

"Oh I need to come," I moaned.

"Yes baby, I want you to come," she cooed. The arousal in her voice was unmistakable now. All I could manage was a groan of pleasure in response.

"Mommy just wants to make you feel good." She grabbed my forearm and pulled it toward her, aiming my dick at her stomach. I looked questioningly into her eyes.

"Come right there baby. I know it's what you want."

My body shook with the power of my orgasm. My dick pulsated in my hand and I flooded her stomach with my hot sticky semen. As I was coming she leaned forward and kissed the corner of my mouth. When it subsided, I collapsed beside her and lay there trembling.

-------

Suzanne looked at me as if seeing me in a whole new light.

"Wow. I don't know what to say." She looked down at the papers in her hand while I pretended to pick lint off my jeans. I felt ashamed and I regretted showing her the story I had written.

After we had eaten lunch that afternoon I had made an honest effort to catch up on my office paperwork, but when I realized that two hours had passed and I'd only written one page, I knew it was time to give up. I was about to shut the computer down when the idea to write a story occurred to me. Writing my thoughts down had always been a way for me to deal with them. Perhaps if I just wrote my fantasy down, I could finally get it out of my head for good. I wanted her so badly, but I knew it was an unattainable dream. I had to stop torturing myself like this. Other than a short break for dinner, I wrote for the rest of the afternoon and much of the evening, detailing how I wished the day had gone after we swam and had lunch. I had become aroused many times while writing my fantasy, and when I finally reached the point where I had my orgasm in the story, it was almost a genuine, real life orgasmic relief that I felt. There was more to my fantasy, and I wanted to continue writing, but I needed to take a break for a bit. I decided to proofread what I had written so far and then get up and make myself a snack. I was halfway through proofreading when she came into the room.

"Hi sweetie, I see you're still slaving away in here--" She stopped short when she saw me hastily minimize the window on the computer.

"Why'd you do that? You've never had a reason to hide your work from me." She looked puzzled.

I hesitated, thinking of an excuse. I could feel my face turning red.

"Joey, you're blushing!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "You're not working on your project from the office, are you?" She stood there with a sly little smirk on her face.

"No, I'm not."

I thought about telling her it was a private letter I was writing to somebody, but I decided to tell her the truth. Not the whole truth, but part of it anyway.

"I'm writing a story, that's all. I just couldn't concentrate on my work so I thought I'd do something creative instead. Just to clear my mind."

"I'd love to read it." She paused, waiting for me to make her the offer. I was silent.

"Well, are you gonna let me read it?"

"It's an erotic story, mom. I don't know if I want to show it to you. It would make you uncomfortable."

"Since when does anything sexual make me uncomfortable? You and I have always been able to be honest about sex. You know how open about that I am." She sighed. "Honey, are you uncomfortable talking about sex with me? Because if you are, that's okay. But you know how I feel about it. Sex is completely natural, nothing to be ashamed of. It's a need we all have. It's never a reason to feel embarrassed."

I clasped my hands in my lap and looked down at the keyboard. I just didn't know what to say. Considering how open about sexuality we had always been, it would be unreasonable for me not to show her an erotic story I had written, if it was just any old kind of erotic story, that is. But this wasn't any old kind of erotic story--it was about sex with my own mother, and now she wanted to see it! And I couldn't tell her the reason I didn't want to show it to her. But part of me wanted her to see it. Getting things out in the open with her might be the best thing I could do. It would be embarrassing, but I thought maybe it was for the best. Now we could get things out in the open, and that was really the best way to deal with it.