Thanks to those of you who liked the first part of the story, and asked me to continue it.. For those who are looking for literary perfection, try reading Hemmingway. Special thanks to The Ciguardian, for his invaluable editing help.
Chapter 2: Life begins at 20.
Eric's brain was reeling. He could still scarcely get his mind wrapped around how great his twentieth birthday had been, thus far. First, there was the 2005 Mustang rag-top that his mother, Sue, had surprised him with. The moment she'd let him open his eyes in the garage and he got his first glimpse of it, he'd practically pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. It was the perfect 'chick-magnet', all fire-engine-red and gleaming chrome, in absolute 'cherry' condition. He knew that, with a car like that, he couldn't help but score with the babes.
He couldn't imagine the day getting any better, but it had. His mother had suggested that he take her out for a drive in the new car. Now, that wasn't exactly the sort of 'test-drive' that Eric had been imagining. He'd been thinking more along the lines of cruising the town and looking for some of the girls he'd gone to high school with. Granted, his mom was actually more 'hot' than practically any of the girls he knew, but she was his mom, for cryin' out loud. He had -- maybe -- a snowball's chance in hell of ever scoring with her!
And then? Eric's brain was still boggled by what had happened. No sooner had they hit a back country road on the outskirts of town, than his mother had started unbuttoning her dress. Not all the way, but enough buttons at the bottom and top that -- with the wind blowing over her -- the cloth was flapping away from her body so that her almost-transparent panties and her breasts (oh, shit, she's not wearing a bra!) were open to his gaze.
They'd come across an old dirt side-road, and she'd had him turn onto it and drive along through the meadow until they came to the crest of a hill. There, she'd had him stop so that they could get out and enjoy the view.
Eric recalled thinking that he'd been enjoying the view -- of his mother's near-naked breasts and through her almost-transparent panties -- just fine, and really didn't care to look at anything else. Still, she was his mom, and he obligingly got out and went around the car to help her out. No sooner had she stood up than she'd put the palm of her hand on the lump in his trousers -- the lump that, with a sly expression, she proudly admitted having given him -- and suggested that she "...take IT out for a 'test-drive'.
He still had a hard time believing how calmly -- yet eagerly -- she had dropped to her knees, unfastened his trousers, and slid his throbbing erection between her glistening lips. He hadn't lasted very long; the sheer unexpectedness of having his MILF of a mother attack his cock like that had him hair-triggered, and -- fairly quickly -- he'd found himself telling her that he was going to cum. She'd merely smiled around the thickness of him and, with utter delight in her eyes, increased her sucking of him until he'd emptied himself into her waiting throat and she'd swallowed everything he had to give her.
After that, she'd let him rest for a moment, as though she'd known he would need time to recover from the amazement of it all. Then she'd removed her panties and offered her bare, smooth-shaved pussy to his tongue. Eager to return the pleasure she'd just given him, he attacked her dripping sex with gusto, valiantly attempting to give her the best tongue-lashing she'd ever had. He'd become almost instantly addicted to the scent of her pussy, and to the taste of the luscious juice it wept. He'd kept at it until her body writhed and heaved on the Mustang's bucket-seat, and she'd screamed out with the intensity of her climax.
Now it was over, and they were back in the Mustang, clothed again and driving back to the house. Eric's mind was awhirl, picturing scene after scene of what might happen when they got back to the house. Her words to him echoed over and over in his head: "Take me home, so we can finish this in the comfort of our bed."
Not 'my bed', but 'OUR bed' -- as if she was suggesting that, from that night on, they would always fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms.
********
Sue, likewise, was riding a wave of passion for the entire drive home. She couldn't take her eyes off of the handsome young stud whose cock she'd just sucked, and whose tongue had just taken her so close to heaven. Nor could she keep her hands off him. She would have loved to suck his dick while he drove, but the idiots at Ford Motor Company had decided that -- even though the car was an automatic -- the gearshift belonged on the center console instead of the steering column, and it got annoyingly in her way. So she contented herself with just fondling it with one hand and rubbing her cunt or breasts with the other. She had left her panties on the ground where they stopped for their oral expedition, and hadn't re-fastened her dress. She wanted to leave herself purposely exposed to Eric, half afraid that -- if he didn't have her near-nakedness as a distraction -- he might begin to have second thoughts about what the two of them had already done. When they approached the end of the side road, however, she realized how impractical this was. Too damned many other people would be able to see nearly as much as her son was seeing. So, reluctantly, she stuffed his cock back into his shorts and buttoned up her dress, not wanting to give passing traffic even the suggestion that they might be anything other than a mother and son out for a drive.
The ride home -- from the point where the side-road met the main road -- took about half an hour, and it gave Sue time to calm down -- for her somewhat-satiated lust to ease up, and for her to do a bit of thinking.
There was a line that society had set, a standard for 'proper' behavior between a mother and son, which she and Eric had crossed. And, although the experience had obviously been magnificent for both of them, what if it had been a huge mistake? What if it resulted in damaging the relationship she and Eric had enjoyed before they'd crossed that line? After all, she was the mature adult. She had been the one to initiate what had happened. Eric was only responding, was only accepting what she had offered. She doubted that, on his own and without her corrupting influence, things would have progressed to the level that they eventually did. Suddenly, she was very nervous about what they'd done. She knew that the only remedy for it was for her and Eric to talk about it in depth, once they got back to the house.
She glanced over at her son, who appeared to be trying really hard to concentrate on the road despite the fact that his mind was obviously replaying their interlude in the field, and hoped that she hadn't damaged things between them beyond repair.
As they entered the town, she had him pull over into the parking lot of a convenience store, where she purchased a couple of large soft-drinks for the two of them. The talk, she knew, would make both of them thirsty. The refrigerator at home was mostly filled with the leftover beer from the cookout, and she didn't want the creeping effects of alcohol to interfere with their being able to discuss the situation intelligently. She had turned away from the check-out counter when a sudden urge hit her. She turned back to the counter.
"Can I get a pack of Winston 100's, too, please?" she asked the clerk.
As the young girl placed the pack on the counter, Sue added a disposable butane lighter from one of the displays. Depositing the cigarettes and lighter in her purse, she picked up the bag containing the sodas and returned to the car.
They eventually arrived at the house, and Eric guided the Mustang into the garage, thumbing the button on the remote to bring the big double-wide door down behind them. He rounded the car to open the door and help his mother out, and then opened the door into the house for her, as well.
"I've been thinking, honey," she turned to face him as they stepped into the kitchen from the garage, "We really need to sit and talk, for a bit, about what just happened."
"Alright, Mom," Eric said, a bit warily. His mother had been rather quiet, on the drive home. Had she been having second-thoughts about what the two of them had done in the field? Could it be that she wanted to take their relationship backward in time to a point before they'd shared those moments of intimate delight? Mentally, he crossed his fingers in the hope that such was not her intent. "I need to use the bathroom, first, though."
"So do I," Sue agreed. "I'll meet you in the living room, when you're done."
Eric headed off to the main bathroom. Although he did need to use the toilet, his main intent was to stall for a bit of time in which to marshal his thoughts. The experience he'd just had, with his mother, had been beyond his wildest flights of fantasy, and he wasn't ready to have their relationship return to its prior status as simply mother and son. He wanted -- no, he
needed
them to remain lovers -- and he wanted to think of some logical reasons why they should continue to explore this new dynamic. He used the toilet and took a few extra minutes to wash his mother's dried pussy-juice from his face. It had long since dried, and was feeling a little uncomfortable.
Sue watched Eric walk away, and then padded down the hall to her bedroom, to use the built-in bathroom there. She spent a few minutes on the toilet, and then stepped into the shower. Placing the hand-held sprayer on its waist-high wall-clip, she warmed the water and then proceeded to wash the area between her thighs. As she rinsed away the soap, she realized suddenly why she was cleaning herself. She wanted to be clean for her son, in case the conversation went in the direction she was hoping.
She finished her rinse, dried quickly, and slipped the dress back onto her body. As she moved back down the hallway, she heard the sound of running water in the other bath, and wondered if Eric was likewise cleaning himself, for her. Continuing on, she went to the kitchen and rummaged in one cupboard until she found the couple ashtrays she kept on-hand for when the couple of her girlfriends who smoked visited at the house. Taking one ashtray, she headed for the living room and made herself comfortable on the couch.
Opening the pack of Winstons, she tapped one out, put it between her lips, and raised the lighter.
Back in the bathroom, Eric realized that he could no longer stall for time; he'd taken too much time, already. The thing to do, now, was to go talk with his mother and try to give her several logical reasons why they should continue to be lovers. As he approached the living room, he saw something that shocked him so much that he came to an abrupt stop. Staying just far enough into the shadows of the hallway that it would be hard to see him, he watched as -- for the first time in his memory -- his mother took a puff from a cigarette.
Part of her body-language indicated that she was nervous, and a soft smile curled Eric's lips at the realization. Hell, he was nervous, too -- as nervous as the proverbial long-tailed cat in the room full of rocking chairs! After all, not an hour earlier, without any real preamble, his mother had sucked his cock and swallowed every drop of his cum, and then he'd slurped her pussy until she'd had a screaming orgasm. How many mothers and sons ever -- EVER! -- found themselves in THAT situation, he wondered. If that wasn't a thing to get nervous about, he wondered what was.
Still, another part of her body-language said that this wasn't her first cigarette. He stood quietly and watched as she raised the cigarette to her lips, took a long, slow drag, and opened her mouth softly. He could see the ball of smoke, hanging there just inside the soft curves of her lips. It was thick and creamy-looking and, for just a split-second, his mind called up the memory of the moment -- not an hour past -- when she'd slid her lips off of his cock. Her mouth had been open then, almost the same shape, and he'd spied the last of his seed lying in a thick, creamy pool on her tongue just before she'd tilted her head back and swallowed it.
His cock shot instantly into a rock-hard state, beneath his briefs and shorts, at the sheer sensuality of his mother's current actions. Thrusting a hand down his shorts to adjust the position of his turgid organ so that it wouldn't be quite so obvious, he drew a deep breath and ventured on into the living room.
"This is new," he said with a slight smile, trying to sound merely curious. "I can't ever remember seeing you smoke, before."
