She fell asleep in his bed, exhausted and deeply satisfied. She stayed there most of the night. As dawn broke, though, she awoke. After a little confusion about her surroundings, she realized that she was in bed with her son. Then she remembered her impulsive actions of the previous night, how they had played their dangerous game and then copulated so wantonly, and the first pangs of guilt assaulted her.
She recognized that she had done it deliberately, had let him persuade her. She had allowed him to seduce her. In truth, she had contributed as much to their questionable conduct as he had. She knew that. She could fool herself in the heat of passion, but not in the cool morning light.
In truth, she had seen it coming, even invited it, but not altogether consciously. She had deceived herself, allowed herself to indulge fantasies she never expected to come true, and now she felt guilty.
She had recognized for a long time that their relationship was not typical, and she was not entirely surprised by this sudden turn. Perhaps it had crept up on her, but she had not been totally unaware.
He had long been the man of the house. Yet, at least until very recently, she just saw it as an understandable dependence she had on him. She needed his companionship. She was fortunate to have him around to handle household chores suited to his youthful, male physicality and heedlessness about sweat and dirt. He played the manly role in domestic matters, but it was never remotely romantic, let alone sexual. Any impulse she might have experienced to view things otherwise never entered her conscious mind.
As the years passed, she admired how he grew into a man, how strong he became, how his body filled out and how he came, ultimately, to stand a head taller than she did. Nevertheless, no thought of him being a potential lover had ever crossed her mind until very recently. She experienced motherly admiration for her developing child, nothing more.
Yet, once he was away at college, and she found herself alone, she began to allow her mind to drift toward those kinds of thoughts. She missed him and did her best, when lonely, to conjure up his image, to make him somehow present. She would go to his room, sit on his bed, and gaze around at his things, connecting herself to him in her imagination. She found traces of his bodily scents in his clothes and bedding. These were especially effective in bringing him into her presence.
It was not until his 18
th
birthday, though, that sexual thoughts first started to percolate into her consciousness, the first time she allowed herself to contemplate, if only briefly and intermittently, the sort of thing that had suddenly happened last night. She remembered now that she had been thinking of him that day, of how she missed him, how she wanted to see him, to hold him in her arms. She wanted to kiss his cheek, show him how much she loved him, now a man rather than a boy. Then, in an instant, she envisioned herself moving her lips from his cheek to his open mouth, holding him tight, pressing her bare breasts into his chest, then lying with him, completely naked, coupling. It was just a flash, a brief daydream, but it had culminated in her hand moving to her groin before she came to her senses and reined herself in.
These kinds of flashes came to her repeatedly that day. She would see his photo on the wall or his bike in the garage, and thoughts would come to her of how handsome he had become, how some lucky girl would be the first to seduce him. The images quickly became starkly graphic. She'd picture him naked, erect, ready for love, masculine and desirable. Sometimes she imagined him lying with a pretty girl, one with firm, young breasts and a flat stomach. He would be holding her, making her ecstatic with carnal pleasures, and then the girl she saw would morph into herself, his own mother enfolding her arms around his waist, holding his naked body close, spreading her legs to receive him. It would be ecstasy!
She would only allow herself to indulge these pleasurable visions briefly, then she would force herself back to her senses and will the fantasies from her mind. Nevertheless, they kept coming back to haunt her, and she grew rather disturbed, frankly aroused.
As it was his birthday, she had to call him. That evening she shook the fantasies from her mind, picked up her phone, and called. Just mom calling to say happy birthday. She had no other purpose in mind.
When he answered, he seemed unusually happy to hear her voice. Perhaps because she had been primed by her earlier fantasies, despite her best efforts just to be mom on the phone, she found herself thrilled in a whole new way just by talking to him, thrilled in a way felt not just in her heart, but deep down in her sex. She kept him on the phone for most of an hour as she soaked up the feelings he evoked in her. She did her best, though, to mask what she felt, not to let him know of those feelings, which she regarded as inappropriate, even shameful, but also altogether tantalizing.
When they finally had to say goodbye, she felt profoundly needful, highly aroused. She immediately went to his room. She pulled down the covers and lay, face down, on his sheets, her head buried in his pillow, breathing him in. Her hand slipped down into her panties. She felt compelled to masturbate, to get it out of her system.
After gaining momentary release, she went on to spend the night there, lying in his bed, wishing he was home, wishing he was with her. When she awoke the next morning from some deeply unsettling, highly erotic dreams, she was not the least surprised to find herself in his bed. She lay there troubled by the wrongness of her thoughts, her desires, and determined to repress them, push them out of her mind. She made the bed, pulled the covers tight, and left his room. She reminded herself that she was in control.
She became stoic and mentally disciplined. She would not let herself indulge these fantasies any further. She skillfully kept her unwanted thoughts at bay. But they were still there, nevertheless, in her mind's secret places, lurking, awaiting their chance to overwhelm her.
In fact, she did manage not to think about it much at all until the day he came home, until he was near, physically present, and, she kept thinking, of age. She was dismayed each time her thoughts drifted so, but the disturbing, sexual fantasies remained near, always on the edge of her thoughts, always there, always beckoning her conscious mind to come their way, to give in to her growing desires, to indulge herself, to love him fully.
He had been working out at school, she noted when he first arrived. He had changed, hardened, become yet more a man. She admired him, she had to keep reminding herself, as a mother. She was merely appreciating how handsome he was, how capable and fit and mature he'd become even in his short absence.
Yet, as the hours and days passed, she let those carnal thoughts slowly seep back into her consciousness, let them give her little, sexual thrills. She would catch him looking at her with what she thought might be desire, and her own desire would flare up. Surely, he could see it too, though she did her best, she thought, to deceive him. Nevertheless, she allowed those thrilling thoughts to excite her, let them tease and titillate her. She toyed with those thoughts, as if she was indeed in control. She played with fire, and, in a flash, the flames engulfed her. She had succumbed to the temptation of illicit sex with her son.
Now, in that cool morning light of the next day, she was dismayed at herself. Now she repressed the joy that the two of them had shared when she gave in for just those few wanton minutes. It was happiness that tried and failed to percolate into her consciousness, satisfaction and love that she kept at bay. She felt terribly guilty and chided herself for her behavior.
She quietly slipped out of his bed, trying to leave her guilt behind, under the sheets with him, hidden. She went to the bathroom and showered. She cleansed herself. She washed her vagina with extra care, thinking about his seed in there, washing it away tenderly, but thoroughly.
After she showered, she set out to have a normal day. She was determined to put her error behind her and have a normal day, a normal life.
But, what about him?
He was disappointed to find her gone in the morning. When he awoke, his first thought was to take her into his arms and express his love for her again, to share their joy at how their relationship had changed, had become so much more loving and wonderful. But she was not there for him.
He got up and slipped on his pajama bottoms and went looking for her. He found her in the kitchen.