For readers of the series, this is a flashback to the events described in the phone conversation between Susan and Angela in Chapter 3, but told from a different perspective.
On the train ride up North after his stay at Angela's flat, Jeremy's mind replayed the evening before, coming back again and again to the images of Aunt Angie dancing with him at the nightclub. He could still feel the heat of her body so close to his, her lithe body in the tight jeans and flowing silk blouse.
He couldn't get over it - she had worn that same sexy top he remembered so well from his eighteenth birthday party. And once again she had been braless. Back then, five years ago, he had felt Angela's firm breasts pressed against him. In that long hug, it had felt that anything was possible, that coming of age might be about open doors he had previously only fantasized about. Not just the idea of girls, but women already in his life that he had long held as special. At the nightclub, he had seen how those firm breasts had no need of a bra, despite the uninhibited pivots and moves she had made in front of him, all with a laughing smile over the loud music.
And then she had spilled her wine over herself. Even on the train, he felt his cock stir at the image, the nipples that for over an hour had been teasing him through the thin silk, suddenly almost modelled for his eyes by the wet fabric. God, he had totally failed to wrench away his gaze, but she hadn't seem to mind.
And the night after dancing, finally crawling into bed, to find that her panties, surely the same yellow panties he had glimpsed under short skirt the day before, were somehow shoved down at the bottom of the sheets. His cock had almost hurt as he smelled Aunt Angie on them, and then licked her essence from their crotch.
He had tried so hard to be appropriate, not to mess up while staying with his mum's most beautiful and sexiest friend. And he had ended up like a beast, sucking up every drop he could of her cunt juice as he stroked his cock, aching to shoot his cum into her panties, into her sheets. He had managed to check himself, the thought of being so raw in Angela's spare bed, in her flat, with her sleeping just next door. He had retrieved his own underpants, and had stroked off again and again into his own clothing, hiding the proof of how he really felt about his mum's best friend.
The thoughts swirled in his head all the way back up North.
That evening, after dinner, he began unpacking in his own room. He had already said goodnight to his mother, but she knocked on his door and asked if she could chat. Jeremy was wearing only his jeans and reached for a t-shirt as she poked her head in.
"Oh, don't worry, you don't have to be formal with me! We're still comfortable with each other, right?" Mum voice sounded light, but Jeremy could recognize a familiar sadness behind it.
"Sure we are. No worries. Yeah, come on in."
His mother was wearing a nightgown that covered down to her ankles, but didn't do much to hide the full curves of her breasts and hips. Her long hair, light brown with just a few hints of gray, was down and looked freshly brushed. She was still wearing lipstick and eyeshadow from the day, and Jeremy was struck by how pretty she looked. And wondered if that thought was magnified from his evening with Angela. Was he just frustrated and horny? Or had he always suppressed seeing how attractive his mum was until now?
"Unpacking?"
"Uh, yeah."
"But you probably won't be staying long." His mum's voice had that edge of sadness again.
"Well, not if I do get the job I suppose. Though, of course I'll be visiting..." Jeremy couldn't finish the sentence. He realized what was making his mother sad.
"Oh Jeremy, I'm sorry. I'm being a pill." His mother's voice brightened, he could see her doing her best to pull herself together. "I'm thrilled for you, I really am." She sat on the end of his bed, and Jeremy was increasingly aware of the sexiness of her curvies. So different from Angela. "I just want to make the most of our time together. To really talk."
They chatted for a good half-an hour. At first Jeremy stood by his dresser, the draws still open, and from the bed Susan admitted to herself how glad she was that she had talked him out of putting back on his top. Shirtless, her son was gorgeous. His muscled shoulders, the handful of light curls along his chest, his dark man-nipples. She was being inappropriate, she knew, but she wanted to drink up every drop of him. This last month, knowing that he would soon be moving out, she had finally let herself go there in her mind. Before she had been disturbed by her occasional wet dreams of him. Now she had been letting herself actively fantasize about him to soothe herself to sleep. She wanted to fuel that night's fantasy.
"Come sit next to mummy," she requested. Her body pulsed with him sitting so close to her on his bed, and she let herself put a hand on his jeans and feel the heat of his thigh. God, my son is gorgeous, she thought again. And now. I need to say it now, or I will never have a better moment.
"Jeremy," she said, her voice almost shy, "I'd love to be able to talk with you about other things. More personal things. I mean, we've never really talked about sex. Would that gross you out, to talk about that with mummy."
Jeremy looked surprised but not offended. "No. I mean sure. We've, like you say, we've always been close."
Susan squeezed her son's thigh, loving how muscular he felt. God, this was better than she had even let herself fantasize. Him shirtless right next to her, and so open. A month ago she would have been shocked to have acted like this, but the lonely nights with him gone on interviews and the increasingly realization of how short a time they might have left...
"What is it you like in girls?"
"Oh, I don't know...someone like you, I mean a woman like you?" Jeremy smiled as he said it, but he didn't look insincere.
Susan laughed. "Always the diplomat!" But his eyes were on her, and even covered in the flannel nightgown, she loved it. "Seriously, do you like girls who dress up? Who wear sexy clothes."
"Oh, I suppose. I mean, to be honest..." Jeremy paused and his mother felt her lip trembling, so wanting to hear his inner thoughts. "To be honest, sure, sexy lingerie is...hot. You know. Silk stockings. Panties." He blushed and, bare chested, the look was such a mixture of vulnerable and expressive that Susan felt her pussy pulse in response. "And you mum?"
