This is definitely the longest story I've written so far. I'm curious to see if readers find it too long. Please let me know.
Chapter 1
Melissa Saulnier pushed the door to her house closed with her heel as she stepped into the porch. It slammed shut as she dropped the bags of groceries she was carrying to the floor. She sighed as she slid her purse off of her right shoulder. It fell on the table with a soft thud. Melissa tossed her jacket over the back of a kitchen chair. Thank god this day was over she thought to herself.
The sound of the television was coming from the livingroom, indicating that her eighteen year-old son, Tyler, was home from school. When Melissa heard that the evening news were on she realized she was later than she had planned on being. She picked up the two plastic grocery bags and put them down beside her purse then brushed her long auburn hair back over her slim shoulders and walked towards the livingroom.
Tyler looked sullen, slumped down on the sofa as he stared at the television, arms folded about his waist. Melissa thought the cause of his dour look must be because she was late getting home for supper.
"I'm sorry I'm late, honey," Melissa apologized "we had a staff meeting and I had to stop for a few groceries on my way home."
"It's okay." Tyler grunted, not looking at his mother standing beside him.
Melissa looked at her son's face and wondered what was bothering him. She sat down on the couch beside him.
"What's the matter, honey?" she asked, her dark brown eyes locking on him.
"That..." Tyler spat out as he unfolded his arms to point at a pile of papers on the coffee table.
Melissa reached for the papers and brought them closer. She saw that it was an English assignment that her son had passed in nearly a week ago. At the top of the title page in red pen was C-. Melissa frowned.
"You'll do better on the next one." she told Tyler, hoping to console him.
Tyler grunted. "I doubt it. English sucks. I hate it. Who gives a shit about T.S. Eliot anyway and that Prufrock guy sounds like an asshole."
Melissa fought back a smile as she tossed her son's assignment back on the coffee table to her right.
"Watch your language, young man."
"Sorry." Tyler mumbled, his blue eyes darting briefly towards his mother.
"I can help you on the next one, if you want," she offered "I majored in English in college, remember?"
Melissa thought back briefly to that time. She had met Tyler's father in college and by the time she was a little older than Tyler's age she was pregnant with him, which forced her to abandon her plans of becoming a teacher, or perhaps an author.
"Thanks, mom, but I doubt it would help. I just don't get English. I'm better at stuff like math and science. Besides, I'll be taking engineering at college next fall; I'll never need English."
Melissa nodded, knowing that her son was right. "You have a few months left to catch up. I know you can if you really try. You still have to pass this English course though if you want to graduate from high school. "
Tyler folded his arms once more and slid down on the couch. He knew that his mother was right and that worried him. But he was encouraged by how much faith she had in him.
Melissa forced a smile as she looked at her son sitting beside her. She slid closer and kissed his cheek as she ran her left hand over his thick black hair. For close to a week she had noticed a change in his mood and wondered if it was simply school, or if something else was bothering him.
"What's the matter, honey? Is it more than just school?" Her voice was soft, full of concern.
His mother's brown eyes looked sad as she spoke and Tyler felt guilty for having upset her.
"Is it your father?" she prodded.
"Kind of...," he sighed "sometimes I just wish things could be like they were."
Melissa frowned. They had already this discussion many times over the past three years since she had decided to divorce Tyler's father. She dreaded talking about it again.
"Ty... we've been through this before." Melissa sounded weary, frustrated.
"I know," he agreed "and I know you guys aren't ever getting back together, but sometimes I wish you would."
"That's not going to happen -- you know that. It's not what I want. Besides, your father has a girlfriend anyway."
"Yeah... Cindy," Tyler sneered "dad could do a lot better."
"What's wrong with Cindy?" his mother demanded, recoiling slightly in surprise.
"She's not very pretty, or even nice," Tyler began "and I hate that blue eyeshadow she always wears. She's got small boobs too. I don't know why the hell dad settled for her after you. You look a lot better than her, mom." His gloom seemed to lift as he spoke.
"Why -- because I've got a bigger boobs?" Melissa blurted with a giggle, surprising even herself for speaking so openly with her son. She blushed and mentally scolded herself for not censoring her thoughts before speaking.
Tyler ran his eyes down from his mother's angular face with high cheekbones and sculpted jaw line face to the swell of her breasts rising from the jade green knit cardigan she was wearing. He felt his cock swell as he stared, wishing he could run his hands over her body.
"Well, c'mon mom... you're stacked." he blurted out as his growing arousal emboldened him.
Melissa grew flustered. She darted her eyes down to her lap and rested her hands on her grey skirt. She could feel her Tyler's eyes on her. It made her clit began to twitch. Moments later she began getting wet as she imagined the forbidden thoughts her son might be having.
"Ty, you shouldn't say things like that to me; I'm your mother."
"I'm just being honest," he asserted, sounding chastened "it's not like everyone doesn't notice and I'm no different."
"But I'm your mother. You're not supposed to notice things like that about me." she snapped as she raised her voice, glaring at him through narrow eyes.
Tyler avoided his mother's piercing stare.
Melissa felt like she had maybe been too harsh with her son. He already had enough on his mind with struggling to finish high school without her rebuking him for what any normal eighteen year old male like him would think or feel -- even for his own mother she rationalized. She drew in a deep breath and gave her son's hand a squeeze.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice softer again "it's just that it's not appropriate for a son to make comments like that about his mother. You know that."
"Even if they're as hot as you?" he retorted, smirking.
Melissa had been trying to portray a serious demeanor and end the conversation, but she found her son's chutzpah disarming. Despite her misgivings she found herself laughing at his comment. She also realized that her panties were now slightly damp.
"Okay, that's enough flattery from you. I'm going to go start supper." she said as she raised herself from the sofa.
Melissa got up before Tyler could reply. She went into the kitchen -- hoping that concentrating on preparing a meal for them would distract her from her sudden arousal and lewd thoughts about her son.
Tyler watched his mother walk towards the kitchen. He could feel his cock throb as he stared at her firm round ass and curved hips filling her tight skirt, swaying as she walked. He waited a few minutes for his erection to subside until he dared get up to join his mother in the kitchen. He sat at the kitchen table, his eyes on her as she moved about. Her hair moved as she turned from side to side and he could detect the movements of her heavy breasts as they quivered beneath her cardigan.
"It's really good, mom." Tyler exclaimed with a mouthful of food, as he looked across the table at his mother.
Melissa gave her son an appreciative smile. "I'm glad you like it. It's only broiled fish and potatoes -- nothing special."
"But it's good; everything you cook is."
Melissa smiled, feeling pleased as she watched Tyler bring another forkful of food to his mouth. This is what a healthy mother-son relationship should be like she reminded herself as she watched Tyler. She was relieved that the tone of the conversation had not returned to the risque nature that it had been earlier in the livingroom. Part of the reason was because Melissa knew that it was wrong, but she also had to admit to herself that, like Tyler, she too was guilty of having incestuous thoughts at times.
For almost all of his life Melissa had looked at Tyler as nothing more than her son, but now that he was eighteen she at times could not help but notice what a handsome young man he had become -- probably much like he found her attractive, she thought. Still, she knew it was wrong and fought against the urges she occasionally had when she saw her son walk to the bathroom some mornings wearing only his boxers, or when he would hug her, holding her tight against his broad chest, running his hands over her back. There were times when they embraced, however briefly, that Melissa was sure that she could feel Tyler's hard cock pressing against her stomach or thigh. Those few incidents always aroused Melissa and caused her to give in to her emotions later at night as she ran her fingers over her hard clit and damp lips alone in her bed.
"You go in and watch tv while I load the dishwasher," Melissa told her son after they had finished supper "I'll be in later."
Tyler listened to the sounds of his mother clearing the table and loading the dishwasher as he gave a blank stare at the television. He was more interested in his mother than what he was watching and was eager for her to join him. His cock twitched in anticipation and he shifted on the cushion, hoping to conceal the bulge in his jeans.
"There -- all done!" Melissa exclaimed as she sat down next to Tyler.
"Good. You should relax a while. How was work?"
"Oh, not bad," Melissa sighed "we got a big shipment of books in this morning, so I had to sort out the invoices and begin shelving them."
"You look tired." Tyler remarked.
"I am." she sighed as she kicked her shoes off and curled her feet up on the sofa.
