Cream & Coco

All characters are at least 18 years old.

-----

I stood naked at the sink, looking at my reflection. A contemporary woman's worst enemy, the mirror. I sighed, shaking my head. What did Drew see? I was pushing forty. I wasn't young. I wasn't exciting. I'd been a mom for half my life, for crying out loud. Nagging and scolding, being the killer of fun.

What was I even thinking? I thought I'd matured past this. Instead I felt like a teenager, worrying about the boy I liked liking me back. Was it because I was a sexual creature again? I'd been in limbo this whole time, and now the insecurity was back. I touched my hips and breasts. Did Drew like them?

Before I even noticed, Drew strolled in and wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing the side of my neck. I moaned and turned my head, and he kissed me passionately, a hand gliding up to cup a breast. "You're beautiful, mom," he growled when he pulled away, and I looked back at the mirror uncertainly. He stared along with me, then blinked slowly. "Hm. Looks like you needed to hear that."

"Nonsense," I croaked, voice breaking halfway through a two-syllable word. Christ have mercy.

"You're not feeling--"

"No, of course not," I rushed. I scrunched my eyes up. I couldn't have known what he was asking if I hadn't already been thinking it myself. When I looked at him again, he was wearing a smug expression, which gradually shifted to one of warmth. I sighed. "I don't understand why you're doing this. We're doing this. You don't think I'm too... old?"

He watched me calmly in the mirror, as if lovingly stripping my soul bare, and suddenly spun me around to look him in the eye. "You take that back, mom."

"I'm being serious," I said shyly, absently watching my hand as I ran it across his chest.

"So am I. Do you think I have bad taste?" I shook my head emphatically. "No, right? Because in fact I have the best taste." I couldn't help but laugh, until he leaned in and touched his nose to mine. "And I chose you, mom."

I blushed furiously. Words failed me utterly, my heart skipping so many beats that I probably should have at least lost consciousness. He smiled at me, kissing the top of my head, then tipped my chin up so I was looking at him again.

"It's a crime how pretty and beautiful you are," he murmured, and I could hear the restraint in his voice. I was quite sure he was ready to drag me back to bed at any moment.

"Saying pretty and beautiful is redundant," I mumbled, sounding a bit husky.

"Is it?" He raised an eyebrow and took a step back, looking me over again. "I guess most people would agree. But to me, prettiness isn't a lesser form of beautifulness. Nor is cuteness just a quaint reference to beauty."

"I sense you have a whole model of categorizing beauty?" I giggled.

"The Flavor Theory," he admitted with a grin. "Cuteness legit means 'cute.' More youthful features like rounder eyes, cheeks with baby fat, just an overall shorter face. Stuff like that." I nodded, following his train of thought. "Prettiness is subtle. It has a certain grace, and is a more nuanced form of beauty. Then you have beautifulness. It's striking, with piercing eyes and a somewhat daunting aura. Pretty girls are generally more approachable than beautiful girls."

I mulled it over. "Then what if you say a girl is hot? Where does she fit in?"

He hesitated, probably choosing his words carefully. "Hotness is brash. It has the same 'look at me' factor as beautifulness, but without as much of the substance. A lot of girls try to go for being beautiful, but miss the mark and end up being hot, which they think is the same thing. So hotness ends up coming off as feeling a bit cheap too. Not to say that being hot is bad, but... I dunno, maybe it's just not for me."

"Hm. So why did you say flavor just now?"

"Because each of these types of attractiveness is like a flavor: sweet, sour, salty, and bitter. They don't necessarily correspond to certain ones, the point is that they're distinct. Being extremely pretty doesn't mean you're beautiful. They're separate things. And women's looks are often varying combinations of these flavors."

"And you said I'm a mix of pretty and beautiful?" I asked coyly, and he nodded with a wide grin. "Interesting. So what would you say Brie is?"

"A mix of cute and pretty," he answered quickly.

"I see. And how about somebody like... Cherish?"

"Cherry?" He took a brief pause to contemplate. "Cute and beautiful. At a pretty exotic ratio, too."

"Drew!" I laughed, shaking my head.

"That's right, I've empirically determined you to be the best, mom," he joked, backing me out of the bathroom and onto the bed. "Man, so glad it's Christmas break now. 'Cause now I can spend all day with you."

He locked his lips around one of my nipples, and I gasped, arching my back to push my breast closer to him.

"Drew," I panted. "I need to go meet Sasha for coffee. We can't spend all day in bed together."

"We can damn well try," he retorted, providing my aching breasts with exquisite relief. I reached down and rubbed him through his pants and he groaned, curling his body so I could massage him with more than my fingertips. I was probably producing a whole cup of milk by this point, which felt so erotic when I fed Drew. I'd changed my diet around, but nothing seemed to change my production. And by this point, I wondered if I even wanted to stop lactating. It provided such intimacy between us that I couldn't bring myself to stop.

No, I never wanted to stop.

--

"*Privet*, Coco," Sasha crooned, a lascivious smirk on her face. "You are... late."

"I'm so sorry. Privet." I sank into my seat, still trying to straighten out my tousled hair. I looked newly from the bedroom, freshly fucked. Thank God we still hadn't crossed that line, I noted. We were getting closer each day, though, and I had a feeling that when the time came perhaps I'd let him. My willpower had been making a dismal display recently. I had no confidence in it.

The thought of Drew pushing his huge cock into me was sending shivers through my body. His tongue dipping into my mouth, running along my neck, coaxing milk from my boobs... A moan escaped my lips, and I watched it float its way through the chilly air over to Sasha. I froze, and she gave me her trademark vulpine grin. I was biting my lip, and I quickly straightened and took a sip of coffee.

"*Da*, very sorry, seems like," she tittered. "Obvious what is keeping you busy. Is good. Help to keep warm in winter." My cheeks felt hot, and I took another sip. "Snowstorm is coming soon. Can spend lot of time with Drew, yes?"

"Y'know, we're actually going out for dinner later," I confessed, feeling very much like a gossipy teenager. Sasha's eyes lit up and she leaned in, eager to hear more, and I indulged by spilling the details of our morning-afternoon fun. What was the world coming to that I'd spent the better part of the day being pleasured by my son? And I was telling somebody about it, no less. But I figured Sasha deserved the story I owed her for her help. After I was done and we allowed a lull in the conversation, I asked, "Hey, any news on Andras?"

"Nothing to worry about," Sasha replied. "Just go enjoy dinner with Drew. Everything will be okay."

"You sure?" I was doubtful. Apparently she wasn't going to elaborate, simply wishing me luck on my dinner date. And that was something I could manage.

--

Dinner was a blur. Time flies when you're having fun, right?

Drew was an absolute tease, acting like my boyfriend in front of the wait staff. We got some looks, but if he noticed -- and I was certain he did -- he never let on. It was romantic, in a sense. He didn't care what anybody else thought. He only cared about my feelings, only occasionally teasing me by pushing the limits.

He needed to go to the restroom before we left, and I told him I was going to loiter in the waiting area of the restaurant. I gazed out the window, watching the light snowfall, thankful for such a wonderful day. Of course, nothing could be perfect. The universe decided to drop a fly in my ointment. A fly named Andras, standing outside and gesturing that he wanted to talk.

I groaned aloud. Best to get rid of him before Drew was done. Somehow I doubted it would be that easy.

I stepped outside and faced Andras. "What are you doing here?" I asked coldly. "How did you find me?"

He shrugged, a disarming smile plastered across his stupid face. "I was passing by and saw your car. Thought I'd say hi." He really was stalking me. My blood ran cold, but I didn't put any distance between us. I couldn't let him see I was afraid of him.

"At least do me the courtesy of skipping all the fake pleasantries and just tell me why you're really here, Andras."

"Call me Josh."

"I will not."

Andras took a deep breath and sighed, looking saddened. "I need your help, Coco."

"I don't see how I could help you. I suspect this doesn't have to do with your job, or rather, with actual investment, am I right?"

"Yeah, you got me there." He looked plaintive, and I had to remind myself what kind of a man he was. My instinct was always to lend a hand to those who needed it, but there was no way I could get involved with whatever he was embroiled in. "I need to borrow some money."

"Why me?"

"I'm running out of people to turn to."

"What's it for?"

"Better if I didn't tell you."

He was starting to irk me. "How much?"

"Hundred grand."

I balked. Sasha had been right, it was too much. That was all of Drew's college fund. He had some nerve to ask it of me. Just how much trouble was he in that he had used up all his other lifelines and had ended up at my doorstep?

"I... I don't have it," I said, trying to keep my voice level.

"I think you do," he replied, lowering his head a bit. The effect was menacing. "You hesitated. You have the money, you just don't want to give it to me. I understand why, but I promise I'll pay you back. I can't tell you what it's for, but just know that it's time-sensitive."

"The reason I need the money is time-sensitive as well. I can't give it to you."

He scoffed, surrendering his charm and revealing his true ire. "What the hell do you need a hundred thousand dollars for, Coco?"

"It's for your son," I said firmly, and heard the door of the restaurant close behind me. I turned around and saw Drew staring at me before locking eyes with Andras. Something dangerous flickered in his eyes, and he began advancing toward us. I put my hand on his chest and held him back. "Drew, stop," I whispered desperately. "Please stay calm. For me."

Drew stopped struggling against me, but his jaw was set and there was an entire inferno in his gaze. I'd never seen him like this before.

"So this is him, then?" Andras called, and I turned to face him, trying to keep myself between him and Drew. Andras studied Drew, unable to keep a sneer of disdain off his face. "You kept it."

"'It?'" I echoed, feeling hollow. I balled my fists, taking a step toward him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We talked about this before. Kids are nothing but a huge financial drain. Think of where we could've been without a brat."

I couldn't believe my ears. He was saying that Drew, my baby boy, my pride and joy, my true love... had been a waste of my life. But I couldn't afford to let his words sink in. And I refused to. They didn't mean anything to me anyway.

"And what about scumbag ex-boyfriends?" I hissed. "Are they a huge financial drain too?" He looked like he wanted to say something, but I cut him off. "You say 'where we could've been,' as if I would have even followed a man who wouldn't take some flipping responsibility for his own actions." I strode up to him and jabbed him in the chest with a finger. I was on a roll. "I can't even believe the audacity of you blowing into town asking for a fucking handout. Once again pushing your problems onto others. Well guess what, you're never getting my fucking money, because it's for *my son*, who is ten times the man you ever were!"

Drew pulled me backward and used his arm to block the backhand slap meant for me. It happened so fast that I only registered it afterward. Drew shoved Andras, and he shoved back. Drew put his fists up and Andras laughed. He was confident, which was a bad sign. Drew had more muscle than his lanky father, but Andras still had a whole five inches in height on Drew.

"Hey, Junior. Grew up to be a real momma's boy, huh?" Andras taunted. "Y'know, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have kicked her to the curb. You fucked up the *perfect body*, squirt. She was smokin', and you had to go and ruin everything." Andras was trying to goad Drew into making a mistake, into attacking him and leaving himself open. "That's right, kid, I fucked your mom. You shoulda seen it. I dicked her down so hard that I knocked her up first try. And man, that virgin pussy was sweet."

"Don't listen to him, Drew," I warned. Drew's knuckles were turning white. I had to deescalate the situation. "Let's just go home. Leave him to deal with whatever is coming to him."

"You two having dinner together?" Andras continued. "You on a fucking date with mommy?" His eyes glinted. "You some kinda perv, kid? You wanna fuck your mom? That it? Too bad, 'cause I got to her first. I got her when she was mint, man. And yeah, you can go home and jack off thinking about having the balls to make a move, but you'll *never* have what I had--"

Drew feinted a right hook at his jaw, but Andras had the reach. He threw a straight jab at Drew's face, but Drew had anticipated it. He dodged to the side and grabbed Andras's wrist, pulling him off balance while using his other hand to chop Andras in the throat. The older man wheezed and backpedaled, struggling for breath. Drew advanced, raising his fist again to begin pummeling.

"Drew, stop!" I shouted, and he hesitated and looked back at me. My eyes widened, and I tried to warn him, but it was too late. Andras struck him across the face and sent him sprawling to the ground. I shrieked in dismay just as a police siren whooped, and a cruiser rolled around the intersection. While I helped Drew up, two officers arrested Andras. They asked if Drew and I wanted to press charges, but I just wanted to get out of there, get home to take care of my baby. He had a split lip, all because I wanted him to show restraint.

Before he was hauled off, I leaned in close to Andras and whispered in his ear, "If you ever come near me and my son again, I'll carve your eyes out." It was uncharacteristically vicious, but he'd hurt Drew. The two police officers took Andras down to the station, and I drove us home. Drew was silent the whole way, staring out his window.

When we got home and went inside, he finally spoke up. "Can't believe I botched that," he muttered.

"What do you mean?" I asked, sitting him down on the couch and tending to his wound. He winced as I gently dabbed at his lip, and I sighed, reprimanding myself for putting my baby in danger.

"I've waited my whole life to see him again," he explained. "Thought of all the ways it coulda happened. All the ways I could make him pay for what he did to you."

"He didn't do anything, baby," I said gently.

"He abandoned you!" he seethed. "Just when you needed him the most! He never deserved you. He should've treated you like a queen. God damn it, I hate him! I hate him so much that I--"

"Drew, don't hate him. He isn't worth it. If he had not left, we wouldn't be together like this," I pointed out in a murmur. That gave him pause, and I smiled. He looked at me, stared at me with such longing that my heart ached.

Without another word, he stood and pulled me back to his room. I tried to protest that we had left the medical supplies out on the couch. It was to no avail. He had us both stripped naked by the time he sat me down on the edge of his bed. Lifting both of my legs to rest them on his shoulders, he took a deep breath. It was only then that I realized the smell of my sex had filled the room. He was savoring my scent.

I blushed hard, watching as his face approached my womanhood. I shivered, feeling his warm breath on my wetness. He used his fingers to spread my lips, and when his tongue touched me a jolt shot up my spine. He dabbed at my clit a few times, sending bolts of pleasure ripping through my body, before sinking his tongue into my folds. I moaned brazenly, unable to hold it back in the slightest.

He was exploring my insides agonizingly thoroughly, and it was exhilarating. Laid back on the mattress with an arm over my eyes, I could faintly hear him slurp every now and then when my nectar became overwhelming. Him lapping it up was the only reason his sheets weren't drenched. I mumbled incoherently as more unexplored parts of my pussy were discovered. God, it was so hot. My son was eating me out.

He tortured me like that for hours, until the sun came up. Every time his mouth got tired, he would rest next to me while I suffered the aftershock spasms from his ministrations. Then he'd get right back to work, making sure to map every nook and cranny of my insides with his tongue. My brain was reduced to useless mush, and only a singular thought could cut through the haze of my rapture.

I loved him.