I woke up early the day after Mother and I first made love and laid in my bed listening to the sound of my father getting ready for work, then I heard the door slam when he left the house. After that came the sound of his truck starting and heading down the road.
I waited in my bed, my heart pounding, hoping my mother would visit me again. The day before she laid in my arms for a while after we finished making love, then she got up, got dressed, and left the room. I have to admit, she seemed a little uptight and distracted the rest of the day, but we didn't have a lot of contact since I was outside working on the woodpile and she spent the day inside, doing laundry, dishes, and cleaning the house.
As I laid there, I could hear Mother moving around the house, doing things, and that told me she wasn't going to be coming for a visit, so I got out of bed and slipped on a T-shirt and sweat pants, then I went out to the kitchen. Mother was standing at the sink, washing the dishes she'd dirtied cooking my father's breakfast. She was wearing one of the many faded loose housedresses that made up the bulk of her wardrobe. This one was once brown and had faded to a dark tan hue.
"Good morning, Mother," I said when I walked into the kitchen.
"Mornin'," Mother replied without turning around.
I walked over to where Mother was, slipped my arms around her waist, bent, and kissed her on the cheek. I was surprised to feel her body stiffen. "What's the matter, Mother?" I asked.
Mother turned, then backed out my arms until she was standing about three feet away from me. Her face was flushed and I could see confusion and hurt in her eyes. "Why'd you do this to me?" she asked.
"Do what?" I asked.
"You know what I'm talkin' about...what we done yesterday...it's wrong," Mother said. "It's against God's law and man's law."
"Why don't we sit down and talk about this?" I said. I poured myself a cup of coffee - carefully because my hands were shaking - then I walked over to the table and sat down. Mother followed and sat down across the table from me.
I took a sip of my coffee. "Mother, why is it wrong for two people who love each other to show their love?" I asked.
"What we done is more than that," Mother replied quickly. "It ain't right for a mother and son to be doin' what we done. Why'd you do it?"
I sipped some more of my coffee, took a deep breath, and continued, "Because after you told me what my father did to you, I wanted to show you what making love is really like." My eyes were locked on hers. It was almost as if I could see into her mind. I knew she was confused.
"That...it don't matter...we...we shouldn't of..." she stammered.
"I couldn't think of any other way to do it," I continued. "What was I going to do, talk you into making love with somebody else? That wouldn't be right, either."
"If we didn't do nothing, then..." she said, and stopped.
"Are you sorry you've learned what you've learned?" I asked. "Are you sorry you felt the things you felt?"
Mother looked at me for a long time, then she sighed and shook her head. "No, I ain't sorry," she said, her voice almost a whisper.
"Would it have been better if it had been someone other than me who had taught you about making love?" I continued.
She looked down at her hands and shook her head again. "No...I...I'd 'a never done nothin' like that with nobody else." She shuddered visibly. "I couldn't 'a done it with nobody else."
"Do you want to stop?" I asked.
Her eyes came up, her face got redder, and she took a deep breath. Her head moved slowly from side to side and, speaking so softly I could barely hear her, she said, "No...God forgive me, no I...I don't want to stop. I...I never knew I could feel that good." Her eyes fell toward the table again. "I...I can't stop thinkin' about how good what we did felt." I could see a tremor run through her. "And I hate that because thinkin' about it makes me want to do it again." She looked at me again. "We shouldn't be doin' it. If your father ever finds out..."
"There is no way he'll ever find out," I told her. "I'm not about to tell him and I know you won't." Mother shook her head. I got up, walked around to the side of the table where my mother was sitting, and stood next to her. "Stand up, Mother," I said softly.
She looked up at me, her eyes wide. The same look was in them that I saw when she came to my room the day before. Slowly, she rose from the chair and stood in front of me, gazing into my eyes. She was breathing a little harder than usual, her face remained flushed, and her mouth was slightly open.
I took both of her hands in mine and could feel her trembling. "Do you want to stop what we're doing?" I asked softly.
She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and her head moved slowly from side to side.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers. Her mouth opened slightly and she pressed back against me. Kissing her was totally unlike any kissing I'd ever experienced in my life. Her lips were unbelievably soft and warm, and seemed to bond with mine - it's the only way I can describe it. When we kissed, it felt so wonderful I never wanted to stop. All of the softness and connection also served to have an incredibly erotic effect on me and, I'm pretty sure, on her, too.
After kissing for a few moments, we reluctantly lifted our lips from each other, leaned back, and softly gasped for breath. I looked right into mother's eyes, she looked right into mine.
