"Oh my God!" That was all I could think when he asked me. When I told my son I wanted to give him something special for the holidays, the last thing I expected him to do was point and say, "those mom." I looked at him like he was crazy or maybe I was because he couldn't have been pointing to my breasts, so I mumbled something and just looked at him.
He was staring back into my eyes and he kissed my cheek and said, "Mom, "You're so beautiful...just once, I'd like to touch you." I heard it right. I guess the sane thing to do would have been just to laugh as if it was a joke and walk away but I was incredulous so I continued the conversation.
"Honey, why would you be interested in an old lady's boobs, especially your mothers? There are plenty of young girls out there that would be..."
He cut me off and said, "Look I'm sorry I said anything, let's just forget it; why don't you buy me a shirt?"
Was I smart enough to let it go...of course not? What could be wrong with a little more 'communication'? And of course I was intrigued, and that's what got me into trouble. "Sweetheart is it that you're curious about women because...?"
"Mom I've slept with enough girls and I'm not curious...what I am is...I just think about you all the time and you...make me feel different than other girls do. You're the only one I'm really attracted to."
"Oh Tommy honey that's so sweet but...maybe it's because since your father died, you've been alone with me in this house. It's been ten years...this is probably all my fault...I probably kept you to myself to much...I should have made you go out more...I..."
"Mom it's not your fault...unless you're to blame for being so beautiful and having a body that would make any guy hard."
I felt myself turn crimson. I know I'm all right looking for someone pushing forty, but I'm not God's gift to men...but...I stood looking into the eyes of someone who thought I was. It's not that I didn't know Tommy found me attractive but I always thought his complimenting my hair or my legs was as his mother...and the big bulge I often saw in his pants; I figured that was just a young guy's hormones...and since I'm a very physical person, when he touched me I always thought it was...'innocent'.
He moped around for days and was mostly uncommunicative so when the holidays came around I thought to myself, "Oh what the hell, it's not such a big deal...and it's cheaper than a car." When he came home I sat him down next to me on the couch and said, "Happy birthday Bucko; you have five minutes and not a minute more."
I unbuttoned my blouse, reached back and unhooked my bra freeing my breasts. I'm very fair skinned and blushing brought a pink flush almost to my nipples. My boobs probably look bigger than they are because I'm slim. "He's getting a bonus," I thought, because they were swollen from my period. They were also sensitive and tender.
Tommy said I was beautiful and I closed my eyes so he could enjoy his 'gift' without feeling self-conscious. I waited in anticipation of his touch. I flinched a little in surprise when instead of his hands; I felt his mouth on me. His warm lips surrounded my nipple; his tongue massaged the rubbery tip, and he suckled.
My second surprise was how it made me feel. I don't know what I thought my part in this whole thing would be but I was feeling the effects of his sucking down to my pussy. He cupped the tit and began gently fondling it as his mouth continued attending to my nipple. "What am I doing?" I thought. "I'm letting my son fondle me and I'm so wet it seems to be dripping down my thigh."
I started to float and lost track of time as he went from breast to breast and nipple to nipple with his hands and mouth. I felt stimulated, sore and alive. It must have been at least a half hour later when Tommy said, "Thank you mom, that was best present I ever got. I love you for doing this."
I sat there stunned and realized he was buttoning my blouse. I managed to stutter, "...Your welcome dear..."
I spent a restless night and the next morning I was in a daze. I didn't know what to think or how to think it. I came into the kitchen and Tommy had made the coffee and was leaving for work. He came up to me and put his lips an inch from mine. I didn't move. He whispered, "Good morning mom"; and then his mouth gently caressed mine. He laid his hand on my breast and his thumb crossed over my nipple. In my fog all I could focus on was the fact that I wasn't stopping him.
I was relieved when he released my aching breast. He left and said, "See you this afternoon." It was my day off and I was left with the turmoil of my life whirling around me. I knew I had to sort it out before my son came home.
After getting through the muck of my thoughts and the maelstrom of my feelings, I had it all set. As soon as my son got home I would tell him in no uncertain term that this whole 'business' was over. I paced for the rest of the afternoon until I heard his key in the door. Before he could say "hello" I said, "Tommy, I know this wasn't your fault but we've got to stop..." I never finished the sentence.
"No" he said and kissed me. "Because I love you and I know you love me." He kissed me again and I was in his enfolding arms. All I managed was a few 'buts' as I tasted his contagious desire. His hand slipped under the light bra and I felt my nipple stiffen between his fingers.
When he reached between my legs, I pulled back and adamantly said, "NO, NO, NO."
He said, "All right mom" and went back to kissing me.
This became our pattern over the next few weeks. He knew when I said something like "We shouldn't," it meant "Yes baby do that to me," and when I said "NO", it was a line he shouldn't cross; and he didn't. The problem for me was that my handsome, dark haired, blue eyed, desirous, and desirable son was making me blur the line; like letting him put his hand in my panties and glide it over what he called the smoothest ass he ever felt. I liked it. I liked it too much.
Most of the early 'goings on' seemed to take place in the kitchen, in the morning; which led to fantasies in the afternoon and masturbation at night. More and more I was wondering...this...and that...and what it would feel like to...?
The first time I touched the bulge in his pants, we were kissing on the couch. The only light was from the TV that we weren't watching. I was surprised how far down his leg it went. He immediately reached between my legs and this time I didn't protest. I started breathing hard as he reached into my panties. I was slick and his fingers came up wet to my clit. His fingers felt better than mine on me. He held my swollen nub between his fingers and gently rubbed. I had never done myself quite that way and it was exciting enough for me to squeeze his cock more in reaction to what I was feeling than any attempt to masturbate him. The difference was lost on him because after a short while he was saying, "Oh...oh...mom...mom..." and I felt him jerking and coming. I unzipped his pants and put my hand in to rub the last few spurts out of the thick cock I was touching for the first time. I wanted to come so badly.
His hand was still on my pussy and I whispered to him, "Rub me like you were doing before baby." He was kissing me and telling me he loved me and I was climbing. I got so excited I dug my nails into his arm as he did that wonderful thing on my wet clit. When he put his fingers into me, I heard a low moan coming from my mouth that started in my belly. It had been three or four years since a man brought me off; and when I started to come, I made a noise that sounded like squealing. I was breathing hard as I petted my son's sweet hands and fingers. I felt the total relief of the orgasm for a moment but if ever there was a time for second thoughts, it was right then, after my son had just made me come.
Second thoughts, third thoughts and fourth thoughts plagued me for days. I didn't let Tommy kiss me, touch me or come near me. I told him I loved him and I didn't blame him but I needed to come to grips with this thing that was going on between us. He said, "I understand mom, but I'm never going to stop loving you and wanting you and needing you." That didn't help.
That night I fantasized about my son. I put my hand between my legs and started to masturbate. It was like watching a movie. I heard my voice narrating in my head. As I rubbed, I told myself this story about how my son would love me:
"He's kissing me and his hands will soon be on my breasts. It's where he always goes first. He bares them and fondles them until he sees my nipples harden so he can tug on the long tips. The points, which connected us nineteen years ago, connect us again. My breasts which were heavy with milk are now heavy with maturity and they warm in my son's hands, the hands that find me at all hours of the day and night. He kisses me and says, 'I love you mother...it's ok...everything is going to be all right.'
I'm wearing the white lacy thong and stockings he laid out for me. He puts out the things he wants me to wear. I always put them on. He'll make me wear the veil. I'll be the bride tonight because he wants me to be all things to him. Tomorrow maybe I'll be the whore...or the slave...but in the end my son will have me...like he will every night.