The Polaroid wore dog-eared edges and was fading from the years. This did nothing to detract from the beauty of the subject, though.
Julian looked down at the much enjoyed picture where he'd propped it on the warped box of the hotel towel rack. His throbbing cock was in his hand and it bobbed up and down, -- a wild horse leaping against the confines of decency.
The old bulb that hung naked in the steam stained ceiling flickered in-time to the rattle of the noisy fart fan.
He closed his eyes and imagined that she -- the subject of this picture was there in front of him.
Just like that. The sounds of the cheap motel bathroom faded away.
The picture he concentrated his whole being on was of a young, long-haired brunette -- 19 maybe, at the most -- not much older than Julian himself. (On account he turned 18, two days prior.)
Her fine china-skin; pale and beautiful. She wore a light pink night shirt with a teddy bear printed on it. This garment had ridden up enough to offer a peak of dark bush between her fine legs. She was on her knees and gazing up, her chin raised just slightly at the photographer, that hopeful look of desire in her eyes. Certain of a hard cock, just waiting to slip into her eager mouth.
He wished his crush was on her knees for him. On her knees and desiring a taste of his dick. Just like she had been in the picture.
Julian tugged his cock a few more times. Standing at attention. A glistening around the foreskin of pre-cum. This dream woman caused him so much frustration.
He needed to release pretty quick -- not a lot of time before they had to leave. She would soon call out, telling him to come out once she finished dressing. Not much room in a cheap motel for two people to get ready for the day -- especially while keeping modesty.
Though he'd been so horny for the past two days. His nuts ached when he walked. Blue balls. Julian knew the load he was carrying around would be totally epic when he did shoot it off. He just needed a little alone time.
"Julian? My love, it's not like late, late, but we gotta get going. I really don't want to be late for the wedding."
That lilting feminine voice he knew so well called from the room outside.
"Yeah -- yeah, okeh mom."
Julian moaned a curse under his breath. Now he was all flustered after she called out. She's right outside the door, waiting impatiently.
He stuffed his cock back into his slacks and zipped up -- flushed the toilet to cover what he'd really been doing. Checked in the mirror to see if his tie was straight. Slipped the picture in his back pocket and came out into the morning light of the hotel room.
There she stood, looking adorable, but a little vexed at the lateness of time. And it was she that had taken so long to get ready.
"Oh, good -- at least you're dressed. And looking very handsome, by the way."
"How do I look?"
Willamina pirouetted, tossing a feminine tease in her summer print dress. Knee length. Bare legs and peep-toe pumps. Glossy lips and scented like wildflowers. Her brunette hair fell down over her pale shoulders in fine waves and ringlets.
"Oh, wow! Mom!"
Julian swallowed a lump the size of his fist. He stood with his hands in his back pockets. Feeling the photo back there, like a magic talisman. He felt real amazement at how beautiful she was there in the morning shine.
"You look great!"
There was no doubt that Willamina Clairmont was a MILF. All Julian's friends spoke of the 34-year-old widowed mother in hushed and reverent tones.
She'd been only 16 when the beer-swilling sperm donor had given her the gift of Julian. He'd been older than her; a cradle robber. Now that the bastard was dead and vanished into the grave, these two revealed in the respective spring and summer of their lives. No time to waste.
"Thank you handsome man...can you...uh, grab my bag and get it in the car? I gotta use the bathroom before we get on the road."
"Sure. I gotcha."
Julian moved to grab her suitcase and lug it to the car outside the hotel door. His nuts ached and his cock still hung swollen a little in his underwear.
He looked down to double check to see if anything had leaked onto the front of his light colored pants. That's all he needed this morning was a damp stain to dry with a crust. With all his concentration, he willed his second brain to settle down and he'd let it loose later...
...a promise he intended to keep. As soon as fucking possible. He'd suffered through last night as he lay in bed -- the reason his balls screamed out this morning. They had to travel on the cheap, and a double queen room left so little privacy between mother and son.
His older cousin's wedding would happen early this afternoon and he hoped like all hell to have a little privacy when they got there -- a bathroom away from everyone...blissful release...
With her overstuffed suitcase tossed into the trunk of their Olds Ciera, he limped back through the door of the room, clear morning light pouring in through a split in the curtains. It was high spring in every sense of the word.
The sky in its careless hues. Air fresh and the interstate calling a heart hopeful in adventure and the future, onward, down the road. Hopes of many loads shot off in the name of the joy it brings.
Willamina stood watching Julian as he came back into the room and closed the door, shutting out the sounds of the nearby highway and its traffic.
She stood coquettishly, with a gentle smile, glowing.
"Honey?"
"Yeah? Hey mom --"
"Have a seat."
She pointed to the bed beside her.
"Honey..."
In her hand was the dogeared Polaroid of the lovely young woman on her knees.
"Where did you get this photo of me? I thought your dad got rid --"
She saw the strawberry blush of embarrassment -- of horror in his face and body language, even as she said it in a sweet tone. No accusation or shock in her voice. Only love. She quickly sat at his side in a comforting gesture.
"Oh, honey, it's okeh."
She looked at the picture in her hand. Memories flooded back of when she'd been so very young. Of what she'd done for his father -- her husband, in those days before he became such a hateful person. She'd enjoyed his masculinity, and he'd reveled in her oral talents.
All before he's started striking them both...for his own angry enjoyment. Before his fists left them bruised and hiding in the closet.
So long ago.
"It's okeh, honey, I know. I've known..."
"You're a young man and I know well what young men do and what they like. And it's been plain as day with you since...oh, well, since you were like 15 --!"
Julian wanted to crawl away. Crawl away and hide. How did she know he'd held an Oedipean desire for her since just before -- well, just before his bastard father up and died?
"Mom -- I -- I --"
There was no point. When she looked at him like that -- the time he broke her vase and blamed it on the dog, -- or stole money from her purse? There was no way around it. She read him like a book. His every secret, open to her. How could she not know?
"It's just alright honey. What ya feel is natural and alright."
She handed him back his picture. He took it, his hand trembling.
"You are all the best parts of your father -- none of the bad."
With her fingers, she brushed a few loose hairs that draped down over his forehead.
"It's alright, ya know...handsome man."
Willamina crossed her lovely legs. She thoughtfully smoothed her soft skirt out. Against all of his willpower, he could feel her closeness. Her warmth -- the vitality that glowed like the spring morning outside. His eyes drank in the smoothness of her freshly shaved legs. The scent of her perfume; like a variegated field of summer.
His second brain knew the minutiae of the moment. Those lips, those breasts were so close. Her eyes sparkled like a girl awaiting a dream.
But this was his mother!
No matter what, his cock screamed out in the night as he lay there dreaming of sweet release. Surely boys like him went to hell for that type of love.
Circular thoughts. Kissing her. Going to hell. Kissing. Touching. Fondling. Hell. The circle goes round and round.
