Dr. Matheson's Wife

Part Two

The next morning I awoke in a cold sweat. The suffocating cloud of shame still hovered over me, my head foggy and reeling over the previous night's events. How could I have jerked off thinking about my own mother? I never once even had a hint of a sexual thought about her back in high school. How could have finding her that way have had such an effect on me now? What if my father had come home to see me spying on my mom pleasuring herself? He'd kill me!

I shakily got out of bed, showered, and changed into a sky blue Ambrecrombie polo and pressed pink bermuda shorts. I put some wax in my hair, pushing around the thickening agent until the hair on top stood up. I admired the shaved sides and lengthy spiked, messy hair on top. Satisfied, I went downstairs for some breakfast.

Mom was in the kitchen. She wore a golden silk slip dress, her hair back in a messy bun while she poured boiling water over her glass pour-over coffee maker.

"Good morning, sweetie," mom said as I came into the kitchen.

"Morning," I grumbled.

I went straight to the pantry and tried to avoid eye contact. I mindlessly looked over the different types of cereal, not really reading the labels or registering the different shapes in flavors. I could still see the outline of my mother in my peripheral field, and desperately tried to ignore the tight silk hugging her thighs and buttocks.

"You seem awfully quiet this morning. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just tired. Last night I was really hot, had a rough time getting to sleep."

"Oh ok. How late did you stay up?"

I started to say ten- but I stopped. I realized I'd be admitting I was awake last night while she was doing...that in her room. I didn't want to, I couldn't bring myself to make the admission.

"About nine or a quarter after. I think I woke up once or twice before my alarm went off this morning, too."

I gulped. That was close. I fidgeted with some of the cereal boxes, trying to look like I was making some progress.

"Well I'm sorry you didn't sleep well, my love. I suppose you're too grumpy to give your old mom a hug?"

She came up behind me suddenly, putting a hand on my shoulder. I felt little jolts of electricity where she touched me.

I wanted to protest, but I couldn't speak as she pulled me back and brought me into a warm embrace. I tried not to make my body too rigid as she held me, as I didn't want to betray my lack of comfort. However, I could feel her so much through the dress, the warmth of her body coming over me. I flinched as a part of me stiffened and rose. When I felt myself pressing firmly against her, I pulled away.

"I just poured some coffee, so you could have a cup of that to try to wake up a bit. Do you want any eggs or sausage? I'm about to take the meat off the machine grill."

"No thanks, I'll stick with cereal."

I went back into the pantry, keeping the door against my side to try to conceal my bulging erection. I took a deep breath. My heart was thudding in my chest. I tried thinking of anything that could kill a boner. Hurricanes. Roadkill. The shower scene from "The Shining." That at least got my flag to half-staff.

I finally grabbed a box at random, then briskly crossed the kitchen to the china cabinet and removed a bowl. I grumbled as I dumped the raisin bran into the bowl. Of course it was the bran flakes that I'd grabbed, it couldn't have been the fruity charms or cocoa puffs. Mom was putting the coffee creamer back in the fridge.

"Um, while you're in there, can you please take out the skim milk for me?"

"Sure honey," she said.

My eyes went wide as I watched her bend over to reach the bottom shelf. The dress pulled even tighter around her, clearly revealing the shape of her buttocks through the material. I quickly looked away as she stood back up and handed me the milk carton.

"You better drink a bit of this, looks like it's going to expire in the next few days. Make sure it still smells good before you pour it."

"Yes mom," I answered.

I was forced to lock eyes with her. Her chestnut eyes seemed to draw me into the swirling, inviting dark recesses.

"Thanks," I stammered, taking the milk from her.

I opened the lid and sniffed. Nothing offensive to be detected. As I poured the milk over my cereal, I thought again of that scene I had witnessed the night before. My mother's naked body, the milky white flesh of her bare chest, the toy she eagerly plunged into her tight hole.

I shook my head, physically trying to banish the image.

I put the milk away and sat down at the table. A moment later, mom joined me with her coffee and plate of eggs. She sat on the side of the table next to me, her chair pulled out a ways from the table.

She crossed her legs, revealing a shocking amount of thigh as the material hiked up her crossed-over leg. She moved her suspended foot up and down as if she were tapping it to the beat of a song only she could hear. I noticed the neon pink polish of her toenails. A detail that would normally have escaped my attention.

Mom moaned as she put a forkful of the eggs and sausage (which was chopped up and mixed, so really more of an egg hash) in her mouth. I stared blankly as her lips encircled the piece of cutlery, as she slowly slid it back out again.

"Mmm. Eggs are a little bit runny," she laughed as some of the yolk dripped down her chin. She wiped it with a napkin and savored the next bite.

Below the table, I was sprouting a regular tent pole in my pants again. I quivered at the disturbing heightening of desire in me- and at the exasperating conjured image in my head of my penis replacing the fork, of my semen substituting for the egg yolk.

Want to find out what happens next?? Stay tuned for "Dr. Matheson's Wife- Part 3" coming soon!