Jason & Amanda -- Crimes of Passion Ch. 1
I had finished my schoolwork and needed a break before my mother got home from her latest date.
My Mother was in her early 30s, which means she had to spend most of her youth raising me. I was 18 now and going to college, so hopefully I would be able to carry my weight and take care of her for a change.
College classes were exciting and challenging -- especially criminology and law. I didn't know where my interests lay when I started taking classes last year. But I see myself as an investigator or detective someday. It just seemed to fit with my personality.
My mom, Amanda, was a lovely and caring woman. She consistently met all of my needs in maintaining our home and providing ample affection.
I didn't have to do much while she was around, and I saw it as her way of showing her love.
When someone shows you they love you to the degree my mom does, it is not hard to love them back...and I really love my mom.
Her only failing, if there was one, was that she was barely able to keep food on the table. As a fitness instructor at a local gym, she didn't make a great deal of money.
Aside from her great nurturing ability, I should also mention -- and many could attest -- that her greatest asset was her physical appearance.
This is not something I like to focus on since I think that constantly being objectified by men her whole life has taken its toll.
She is strikingly beautiful with an amazing body that is hard to ignore.
Her beautiful dark hair, toned legs, well-proportioned butt, and large natural boobs turned heads wherever she went.
Instead of her looks working to her advantage, somehow, she attracted terrible men who just wanted to use her.
It had been like this since my parents divorced many years ago. They were never close, that I can remember. They slept in different bedrooms for most of my childhood.
I suppose this left my mother starved for affection, and after the divorce, she made up for lost time.
It was hard to watch as she went from a bad relationship to worse.
On occasion, she met someone who lasted longer than a one-night stand. Even so, the men didn't last long.
For her, it was almost like being beautiful was a curse, attracting men who always wanted sex but not the long-term relationship she was hoping for.
I tried to ignore the many signs of her exploits, such as an occasional used condom in the bathroom trash can or the nights I had to put my headphones in to stop listening to the sounds coming from her room.
It was Friday night, and my mom should have been coming back from her date. I had been through this enough to know the drill.
I eased back on the couch to watch a movie, knowing I'd skedaddle back to my room if she returned with a man in tow.
However, this night was to be a departure from the date nights that came before.
It would stand out as one of those key moments where small choices can change your life in big ways.
* * * * * * *
I was not far into my movie when I heard my mom turn the lock and stumble into the house.
This wasn't the first time she was drunk, but she seemed more inebriated than usual.
She sat down on the couch next to me, still wearing her short skirt and tight top that exposed her midriff.
Clearly, she was dressed to impress whoever she met up with that night, though there was nobody with her.
"Hi, baby. Why are all guys such jerks?"
"That bad, huh?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure this guy spiked my drink -- I called for a ride and got out of there once I started feeling strange."
My mom could drink, so I dismissed her assertion as possibly just being paranoid.
Either way, she met a guy she didn't like and bailed. It happened all the time.
She popped onto the couch next to me. "What are we watching?"
"Nothing much, just some sci-fi. You'd probably like it."
She smiled and leaned against me. She was very comfortable with physical contact, so this was normal for us to snuggle up.
It was not lost on me that my mom was most people's idea of a dream woman, but you should know that I did not regard her that way.
Yes, I had seen her in bathing suits and sometimes dressed in bedroom apparel that left little to the imagination, but I refused to allow myself to look at her that way.
She was a touchy-feely person, but even when she hugged me or planted kisses on me, I made sure not to go there out of respect.
I knew my friends masturbated thinking about her, and they often joked about it.
I would tell them to 'cut it out,' and I meant it.
I loved her truly, and the constant objectification pissed me off, as did the undeserving men who should never have been allowed to touch her.
My mom interrupted the movie. "Why can't I find a nice, attractive guy that's willing to commit to me? I'm not getting any younger...."
Wanting to cheer her up, I said, "You will, Mom. There's got to be a guy out there that sees you for who you truly are. These guys are just looking at your exterior. I don't think they can see how kind, caring, and lovely you really are. You're a rare find, and anyone would be lucky to be with you."
I meant every word I said.
Her pretty brown eyes softened as she looked at me with love. "Jason, you are so sweet."
She looked thoughtful for a moment. "It takes one to know one, my handsome, strong, and kind man." She squeezed me, her warm body comforting.
As we watched the movie, Mom moved in closer, her head resting on my shoulder. She whispered, "I feel so...strange."
"Huh?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her turn her head towards me, no longer watching the movie.
She whispered in my ear, "I love you...Jason."
I felt her breath on my face and smelled the fresh scent of her hair as she gently nuzzled my neck.
She moved slowly and subtly as she maneuvered her face, brushing her lips against my neck and cheek. She inhaled as though she were taking in my scent.
With her so close, her smell was overpowering -- a mix of her body and perfume. She smelled heavenly. Like, if I were to pick out the perfect scent of the perfect woman, that would be it.
It was not often that I was this close to her for so long.
I froze, motionless, as I felt my mom's lips caressing my cheek.
She gently kissed my ear lobe. The sensuality of her tender motherly nibbles was delightful.
I felt slack-jawed as my mouth hung open, and I closed my eyes, falling deep into the sensations she brought on.
I knew I shouldn't, but...it was like I was hypnotized.
The gentle kisses continued down my neck and onto my jaw. Then up my cheek and back up to my ear, where she nibbled on my lobe.
Her breathing was overpowering in my ear as she whispered, "I think about you..." before continuing her sensuous kissing on my ear.
My eyes rolled back into my head as I felt her tongue lick and caress my ear and neck.
My brain must have been delayed by a good amount because the implications of what she said, plus what she was doing, didn't register fully.
What did she mean...when she said, 'I think about you?'
Did that mean what I think it meant?
I had never in a million years gotten a hint that my mom was the type of person that would have thoughts about her son.
I had been so adamant about keeping things above board with her, especially since she was so beautiful and easy to objectify.
I had never once thought there would be a problem in the other direction.
It was then that it registered for me -- she must have actually had her drink spiked with something. There is no way my mother would cross a boundary like this otherwise.
She must have been admitting to something buried deep, something that would only come out if her inhibitions were removed.
It also was clear that what she said was the truth. She did think about me.
My ego swelled. How could a woman as attractive as her think about me...in that way!?
My mind went places as I felt the intimacy of her mouth on my skin.
I knew to allow this to go further was a violation of sorts. She had been drugged, and I was responsible for stopping this.
For the first time, I was unable to control my arousal, and it was directed towards my mom.
She moved closer, and her hand was now on my leg. I knew I had to stop this...and soon.
I thought, just another minute. I'll never experience this, or anything like it, for the rest of my life. Just one minute, and then I'll do the right thing.
She was incapacitated after all...and probably wouldn't remember any of this.
Isn't that how these types of drugs worked?
I always loved my mom's attention -- she was always so good at touching me and making me feel warm and comfortable.
Maybe a few more minutes wouldn't hurt anyone?
I shut my eyes tight and relaxed into her ministrations as I thought more about her words.
She said she 'thought about me.' When and where did she think about me?
It sank in when the full depth of her sensual words finally registered. She thought about me...when she touched herself. That is what she meant.
Oh my God. My ego swelled even more when I realized my gorgeous mother had those kinds of secret feelings for me.
You cannot blame me. If you saw her, you would realize how tantalizing the thought was.
The level of temptation to allow me to think about her sexually had increased in an instant.
Was it possible that I had subconscious thoughts about her? I had been so good ever since I hit puberty.
When I saw her bend over wearing yoga pants, her curvaceous butt, and toned legs on display, I would look away.
When she wore her bikini in the backyard tanning, and I felt myself responding when I saw her flawless skin, perfect tummy, and her barely covered breasts, I looked away.
I definitely looked away when I saw flashes of her panties when she sat in a skirt or walked from the bathroom to her room in a towel.
No, I definitely did a good job. I would never allow myself to think of her as a sex object.
While I was caught in my thoughts, she had repositioned herself so she was directly facing me.
I felt her leg swing over and her weight press against my lap as she straddled me on the couch. I kept my eyes closed -- as if that made this ok.
Her soft scent was overpowering as I felt her face touch mine.
Her lips gently pressed against mine. I opened my eyes. She was looking directly into mine...with desire!
My God, not her big beautiful brown eyes! They were enough to make someone's heart stop under normal circumstances, but the intimate expression of warmth and love they contained burned through me.
I felt myself entertaining the possibility of not stopping, even though I knew she was in some kind of trance.
