The house was eerily quiet as the odd couple stepped back inside.
"Oh sweetheart, tonight was just amazing, but you really shouldn't have," Marion beamed as she poured herself a glass of water, washing down the strong taste of the most wonderful red wine that lingered despite dinner and a marvellous cherry cheesecake. For the first time in a long time she was aware of a spring in her step and her mind was aloof, her heart full of sorrowful pride.
Could she have ever possibly asked for a better son? She watched Paul step into the kitchen, loosening his tie as he walked. She handed him her glass and he downed the cool water in a single gulp.
"That was some potent wine, wasn't it?" he replied, putting the glass down on the counter next to him as he stood opposite his mother. He hadn't seen her so happy in ages. Years, even. It had been an expensive affair, but worth every penny. Marion had been been excited all week to wear the dress he'd taken her to buy, and he had to admit he liked it far more than any son should.
The dress clung to her in all the right places, accentuating her curves and sheer potency, hugging her large, pendulous breasts together. The luxurious cloth bunched over her wide hips, pulling the hem up to reveal delicious, soft, creamy thighs. She'd been too excited to notice, but more than half the men in the restaurant paid more attention to her as she walked in than they did their own dates.
A quiet, comfortable silence fell between them. It had been two years now, and it was just the two of them. Their eyes met, and they smiled at each other before Marion excused herself.
"I hope you don't mind if I use the bathroom first, right?" she giggled, still riding that red wine high. Paul simply chuckled and pretended to bow, his eyes fixated on her backlit curves as she climbed the steps. He took a deep breath, giving his phone its first glance since before they left six hours before. Notifications filled the screen, dozens of messages coming in from Tinder and Hinge, the lust coming off the phone in waves. But he simply clicked the screen off again and took another drink of water.
"Done!" Marion called from upstairs. The glasses in the sink clinked as Paul added his, and he headed up, his mind vacant as he absentmindedly started to undo his shirt buttons. The stairs opened up onto a small landing and down the short hall the bathroom was lit, the door ajar. As was his room, his door open just a crack. The yellow light of the lamp on his bedside table spilled onto the dark hallway, the green diamond pattern of the carpet in stark contrast with the dark shadow around it.
"Mom?" Paul called out, cocking a curious eyebrow. The response was quick and giddy.
"In here!"
She was definitely calling out from inside his room. He stepped forward gingerly, placing his palm flat on the painted white door and pushing it open cautiously. Paul stepped inside, the room empty. He called out again. His nostrils flaring at the smell of floral perfume and some kind of musk, a lusty musk that prodded at a primeval part of his brain that screamed of desire. "Mom?"
"Right here," a voice purred, Paul spinning quickly on his feet to face his mom. Her hair fell in heavy, casual curls past her shoulders, framing her beautiful face and flushed cheeks. Her eyes were tired but warm, her smile cheeky, her lips painted a deep crimson. The glint in her eye was so powerful it took Paul a moment to realise what she was, or rather wasn't, wearing.
"...Mom?" "Hush, darling," Marion whispered again, stepping forward on tall red high heels, her sheer red slip rippling over a red lace bra and small, high-waisted panties that barely contained the neat bush between her legs. Paul could see the outline of her large E cup breasts and her large, wide, mouth-watering areolae. She crossed the room in two strides, her floral perfume filling the air. "Do you like what you see?"
"M-mom," Paul stammered, taken aback by the vision in front of him. She ran a fingertip over his lips, shushing him.
"Call me Marion," she continued to purr, leaning in and planting a wet kiss on his bare neck. Her nostrils flared his with his nervous, aroused musk. She placed a hand on his chest, under his half unbuttoned shirt, the other between his shoulder blades. "You've done a lot for me, today and always." Her voice grew more serious, pensive, her words carefully chosen. "You've put me before everything, and every one. We've grown closer, and I feel this spark, and you're the man of the house, and...every man needs his woman, doesn't he? Even if for one night?"
Paul sighed, still shocked that his own mother was dressed and embracing him so. He couldn't deny the chemistry. He couldn't deny the spark. He couldn't deny the growing erection between his legs, or how his mind lingered on his mother's appearance all evening. Still, she was his mother. The silence between them was short, but laden with expectation and lustful anxiety. Marion breathed heavily, her large breasts pressing against his chest. "Mom, we can't," Paul said again, but his mind had made itself up. Despite his protestations, a hand lay on her neck, the other by her side, his thumb mindlessly brushing against the side of her breasts.
"It's Marion," she replied, sternly. Paul gasped as she lifted herself onto her tiptoes to press her lips against his. For a moment the two held the embrace, their lips pressed lightly together. Paul's mind raced. Here was this woman, still in her prime, desperate for his carnal attention. He could have her right here and now. But she was his mother. He would wake up the next day and have to face his mum. How would she feel about it? How would he? Would this be the death knell for their family?
Marion made up his mind for him, sucking on his lower lip and sliding her tongue between his lips. Paul sighed, the battle having been lost as he gave into temptation. Their tongues danced, Paul's hand moving from Marion's side and cupping her left breast, the sheer slip and lace bra cruelly between his clawing fingers and their prize. Marion cried out softly as he pinched her erect nipple, groaning when he broke their kiss and started kissing her soft, bare neck. Their hearts raced, their hands exploring each other's bodies. His shockingly large erection prodded Marion's soft midriff.
"Paul," she moaned. "I've wanted this for so long."
"I'm yours now," Paul breathily replied in between the rapid fire kisses he was planting on her neck, the flesh already starting to bruise from the aggressive suckling. He stopped, the two mid-embraced. "I'm yours now, Marion."
Her heart melted as she heard her son say her name with such passion, such desire. She put both hands on his shoulders, pulling him towards her to kiss him, her serpentine tongue exploring his mouth, their hearts beating heavily against each other. She slowly ended the kiss, giving him a final peck, then stepped back. He reached out to remove her slip or pull her bra aside, but Marion jokingly slapped his hand aside. He could have grabbed her, shoved her against a wall and taken her there and then if he wanted to, and she wouldn't have complained. But what fun was sex without romance?
She stood on her tiptoes again, laying a quick peck against his lips, then his neck, his chest, his abdomen, slowly dropping to her knees as she rubbed her cheek against the painful bulge in his trousers. Neither of them said a word as she pinched the fly with two dainty fingers and pulled it down, their heavy breathing almost drowning out the loud zip. His cock strained against his black briefs, her delicate hands and red painted fingertips fishing it out.
