Lazy Sunday

It was what Rae referred to as a "lazy Sunday." The week's work was over; Saturday when the household jobs left during the week were done, and Sunday was the day for doing whatever she fancied.

She sat at the breakfast table wearing only her comfortable dressing gown and between gazing at nothing in particular she sipped a cup of lemon tea.

Opposite her Clay (Clayton) her son, sat on one chair and had his feet propped up on another as he idly flipped through a soft porn magazine, pausing occasionally when the picture of a particularly decorative and nude female appeared. Rae would peruse the magazine later when Clay had put it aside and she thought he wouldn't see her reading it. Between his flipping Clay spooned cornflakes into his mouth.

A fly buzzed around the kitchen and Rae followed its progress from one place to the next and considered getting up, fetching the fly swat and pursuing the insect, but decided that was something for later, if the fly was still around.

The magazine Clay was reading claimed to be serious, with articles about how to find your "true self, or "get in touch with your deep self," usually written by psychologists. It also offered, for a price, how to become a millionaire in a month. Rae wondered why, if they could tell you how to become a millionaire in a month they needed to charge for the information.

"Adultery," Clay suddenly muttered.

"What?" Rae asked, not sure if she'd heard him correctly.

"Adultery," Clay repeated, "it say here that 73.6 percent of men have committed adultery at least once before they're fifty."

"I don't believe it," Rae said.

"Well it says it's based on university research."

"What does it say about women?"

"Oh...er...ah yes, 62.2 percent women have committed adultery at least once before they're fifty. What do you think point six percent of man and point two percent of a woman looks like?"

"Don't be silly Clay," his mother replied, "it's just an average like saying the average family has 2.3 children or whatever it is."

"Yes, I suppose so, but what about this; if 73.6 percent of men have committed adultery and only 62.2 percent women, it must mean that the women have committed adultery with several men."

"I suppose so," Rae said, turning her attention once more to the fly.

Clay, pursuing his theme said, "It says here that adultery is on the increase, why do you think that would be mum?"

"You'd better ask your father that," Rae replied cynically.

"I would if I had a father."

"Of course you've got a father, how else do you think you came into the world?" Rae snapped."

"You know what I mean mum," Clay protested, "when did we last see or hear from him, six...no seven years ago."

"No need to remind me," Rae muttered, "now finish your cornflakes I want to wash up."

Clay was not to be deterred; "I suppose the advent of the contraceptive pill and all the other contraceptive things, tube tying and vasectomies, might have something to do with more adultery, you know, all pleasure and no consequences."

Rae gave up fly watching and replied, "Possibly, but there can still be consequences."

"Like what?"

"There are all sorts of nasty diseases and infections you can get if you play around, sexually I mean."

"Yes, I suppose so," Clay said thoughtfully. "Do you suppose dad got a dose of something nasty?"

"Frankly I don't know and I don't care, I only know he didn't give me anything nasty while we were married but what's happened since..." She left the sentence unfinished, her voice fading away.

"You've never played around have you mum?"

"Certainly not," Rae said indignantly.

"Mum, I know I shouldn't ask but why not?"

"Why not what?"

"Why haven't you played around...well...I mean, why hasn't there been another man in your life, you're a really good looking woman?"

"Huh, you should know the answer to that; there was one man but look what happened."

"He stayed over for one night but why only one night?"

"Don't be a hypocrite Clay. He wanted to marry me but you had tantrums and he said he couldn't cope with that, and don't try buttering me up with your "good looking" flattery.

"But you are good looking mum. I suppose what you're saying is that I spoiled things for you?"

"You can say that again," Rae replied sourly.

"You know mum, I was as jealous as hell, I can see that now. I wanted you all to myself."

Rae seemed to soften a bit and said, "I understood that, it's often that way with a mother and son."

Clay seemed to consider this for a few moments, and then said, "Yes, I've read about that, sons actually fancying their mother and hating their father because he's getting what they want, and I suppose the same applies to any man that comes into their mother's life, it's called Oedipal something or the other."

"Complex," Rae said.

"What?"

"Oedipal Complex," Rae repeated, "I can read too you know."

There was a pause in their conversation until Clay said, "We had a kid at our school who suffered from that."

"Suffered from what?"

"Oedipal thing, or I suppose it was that."

"What do you mean, he suffered from it?"

"He used to boast that he was having sex with his mother."

"He was lying. How old was he?"

"Thirteen, same age I was then, and it was true."

"How do you know it was true?"

"His mum got arrested and they put her in jail for three years and he got taken into foster care."

"That's terrible," Rae said grimly."

"What, getting caught you mean?"

"I mean incest, and it just goes to show, it's like adultery, it nearly always comes out in the end. One of them involved wants more than the other wants to give, or they have to boast about their conquest, or they just get too confident and careless and get caught.

Clay grinned and said, "Well he did boast about it so I suppose someone reported him, and she was pregnant to him."

"My God," Rae gasped, "She could at least have taken precautions and just think of the psychological damage she did to that poor boy."

"I've read about the psychological damage, but this kid said it was wonderful with her, and he swore that when she came out of jail he was going to get together with her again."

"And did they?"

"I don't know, they took him to another school and we lost touch with him after that. It'd be..." Clay considered for a moment and the went on, "He was thirteen then and I'm nineteen so she'll have been out of jail at least three years now, and so they might have got together. They were a single parent family of course and..."

"Careful what you say," Rae cut in sharply, "we're a single parent family."

"I know that mum, but what I was going to say was that it started when she told him he ought to know about sex, and she'd teach him, and it took off from there. He said she was so hot for him she wanted him every day."

"Well he must have been hot for her," Rae said, "and I don't need to teach you about sex."

Clay took his feet off the chair, the conversation was getting interesting. "A pity," he chuckled.

"What do you mean, 'a pity'?"

"Well, you know mum, the Oedipal thing."

"Complex," Rae added, "and you're not telling me you've got an Oedipal thing - I mean complex - about me."

"You said you've read the literature, and that says that boys have this thing for their mothers, so what do you want, do you want me to be abnormal and not have an Oedipal complex about you."

"Yes...no...I mean, you can see for your self it's against the law otherwise that woman wouldn't have been put in jail."

Clay seemed to side step the issue and said, "Mum, if boys have this thing for their mothers and they do commit incest, does that mean that mothers have a thing for their sons?"

Rae felt a faint flush diffusing her face, and she replied, "I suppose the woman and her son you've told me about shows that women can have those sorts of feelings for their sons."

"I wonder what it's called?" Clay said meditatively.

"I don't know," Rae replied, and then a sudden thought struck her. "There's something on the net about a mother and son who are lovers."

"Yes I've seen that," Clay said eagerly, "and there's one about a German brother and sister who've had kids and..."

It seemed to hit them simultaneously, the fact that they had both been viewing incest sites on the net. Clay's face flushed and Rae's flush deepened and there was an awkward silence.

Trying to clear what felt like a lump in her throat Rae finally said in an unusually high pitched voice, "Of course in the case of the mother and son they'd been separated for years, and it was only after they met again that they...they became lovers, I think it's called genetic sexual attraction,"

That did nothing to disperse the embarrassment and Clay did nothing to help this when he said, "That kid at school hadn't been separated from his mother until they put her in jail, so when she comes out and meets him gain they might be hotter for each other than ever."

"Maybe, but perhaps genetic sexual attraction works even if mother and son haven't been separated," Rae said.

"It could be," Clay said, "but suppose -- just suppose -- that I left home and didn't come back for two or three years, would we be genetically attracted to each other?"

"You're not thinking of leaving home?" Rae asked anxiously.

"No, not yet."

"Not yet, what do you mean not yet? You are thinking of leaving home!"

"Mum," Clay said in a placatory tone of voice, "I meant that one day I shall probably want to get married, or I'll have a job that means I have to go away and..."

"Who...who are you going to marry, not that awful Brenda girl you've going out with?"

"No mother, I'm not marrying Brenda, or anyone else just yet, I was just projecting into the future," Clay said with heavy patience.

"Then you shouldn't project," Rae said, "not with a girl like Brenda."

"Mum, let's get back to the subject; we were talking about genetic attraction, so do you mind if I ask you a rather personal question?"

"What?"

"It is very personal."

"Ask it, I don't have to answer."

"Have you ever been genetically attracted to me?"

Rae looked confused as she tried to decide whether to answer truthfully or not. If she didn't answer at all then Clay would know that she had contemplated him as a sex partner. She tried for something resembling a middle way.

Speaking very carefully as if she was weighing each word she said, "Well, it is well known that mothers have a special bond with their sons, and sometimes the affection they feel does have a sexual edge to it; I mean, love often does that to people even if it never comes to actually...er...fulfilling it, if you know what I mean."

"Oh yes, I know what you mean," Clay said.

"Since you've asked me, I might put the same question to you; have you ever been genetically attracted to me?"

"I've already admitted I suffer from that Oedipal thing..."

"Complex," Rae interrupted.

"Okay complex, and so I suppose I must be genetically attracted to you."

Rae suddenly stood up and grabbing the fly swatter she commenced chasing the fly round the room. It landed on a window and Rae took a vicious swipe at it and missed. The fly settled on the ceiling where it was out of reach.

Agitated she said, "I'm going to have a shower and then do some gardening, you can do the washing up." She fled from the room.

Showering was not the only thing she had in mind. The conversation and the mutual admissions of being genetically attracted to each other had gradually worked her up to something approaching a sexual frenzy. In the shower she began to masturbate frantically muttering to herself, "Please God don't let him touch me, don't let him touch me, if he does I shall give in, I know I will, please God...ah...oh...ah...ohwaa...mmm...mmm...oh Clay...Clay...touch me darling...mmmmaaaah..."

She leaned against the shower wall exhausted by her orgasm, but her orgasm had not been enough. Too much had been said, too much revealed and none of it could now be unsaid.

She started to cry, but pulling herself together she headed for her bedroom and dressed for gardening.

Meanwhile Clay had washed up the few things that needed washing and following Rae's example he made for the shower and did his own share of masturbating, the first ejection of his sperm hitting the shower wall and oozing down in a long sticky strand.

Like Rae he realised that they had been some very important revelations and there was no way back from them; their relationship could never be the same again. He toyed with the idea of leaving home, but discarded that because if he returned one day the old genetic attraction might come into play.

He contemplated suicide, but after reviewing the various methods that could bring about his demise he had discarded this option as well.

The idea that finally came to him might seem to have no connection with Oedipal complexes or genetic attractions, but seemed to him to be a placating middle way of putting things right with his mother; he would go and help her in the garden.

Irrational? Yes you are right, but in such situations we are given to doing irrational things that have little or nothing to do with the problem being faced. And so irrational or not, Clay put on what he thought were clothes suited to gardening, old jeans and a t-shirt.

He went to the garden, there to find his mother already weeding, and now we must seriously question Rae's choice of gardening clothes.

She had chosen pale pink shorts that moulded to her nether region like another skin. If I say that these shorts shaped themselves to every nook and cranny I'm sure you'll know what I mean. In contrast her upper body was clad in a very loose old t-shirt that when she stood upright clung to her undoubtedly delectable breasts, and when she leaned over the garment flopped open to give the viewer a clear vision of these unbridled breasts. She had long dark hair that was now tied back with a ribbon, and it has to be said that among her other excellent features her hair was one of the most attractive.

When Clay first came upon her she was bending over tugging at a large recalcitrant weed. Her rear was facing Clay and he got an excellent view of firmly rounded buttocks and shorts that clung to the cleft of her vulva. A vision of his penis passing through that cleft into paradise rose up before him

The t-shirt yes, but we might ask why Rae had chosen such an inappropriate garment as these tight shorts for gardening, but the answer I suppose must remain a mystery, but imagination might fill that gap.

It was as Clay stood behind and close to her that the weed suddenly surrendered and it took Rae by surprise. She tumbled backwards to be rescued by Clay, who grabbed her and in doing so found himself with two handfuls of surprisingly firm breasts.

For her part Rae felt something hard pressing against her back. The sight of his mother's rear end and now the handful of breasts had brought on a lightening reaction; he had an erection.

Rae knew what it was, and she had her own response in the form of a lubricating vagina and a ticking clitoris.

Since Clay was touching her fairly intimately, and despite the fact that in the middle of flower bed was not the best of all possible places, this might have been the climatic moment for mother and son, but it was not so.

Recovering her balance Rae disentangled herself from Clay's grasp. Since she was not wearing panties Rae suspected that the crotch of her shorts might be showing signs of her emotional condition. Not daring to inspect her panties in front of Clay, flushed and trembling, she fled to the house and her bedroom. Removing her panties there was the wet stain that betrayed her sexually agitated condition.

She took off her t-shirt and lying on the bed she masturbated for the second time that day. Recovering from her orgasm she began to bemoan her current fate.

"What is he doing to me, what is he doing to me?" But in true caring mother mode she added, "What am I doing to him?" Logic might have added, "What are we doing to each other?" but logic rarely applies at such highly charged moments.

She heard the sound of the motor mower ebbing a flowing as Clay pushed the machine up and down the lawn. It might be expected that she would be pleased that her son was willing to share the work in the garden, but no, she grew angry.

"How dare he work me up like this and then calmly mow the lawn?"

Still lying on the bed she decided that since their talk over breakfast Clay had deliberately played on her emotions. He had raised the subjects of adultery and incest and had led her to believe he really did have a fancy for her. Of course she failed to acknowledge her part in that discussion, but that would be to admit that for a long time she had wanted Clay -- forgive my putting it so starkly -- wanted him to fuck her.

Her lazy Sunday was in ruins. Her emotions were in turmoil and Clay was playing with her, laughing at her. She rose from the bed and for a second time that Sunday showered, partially to try remove any residual smell of her masturbating and partially to try and calm her self.

Finished showering she made way back to the bedroom naked, carrying her t-shirt. She noticed that the sound of the mower had stopped, and she had got part way across the room in order to get herself another pair of shorts when she heard Clay's voice.

"Mother." It was very soft but distinct.

She stopped in the middle of the room and stood stock-still. She felt rather than heard him move up behind her and she made an attempt to cover her breasts with the t-shirt. Clay's arms were round her, his hands gently removing the T-shirt. She resisted momentarily and then yielded.

His hands were on her breasts, pressing, his forefingers and thumbs gently squeezing her nipples.

"You're so beautiful," he said, and she felt his lips touch her shoulder.

Barely above a whisper Rae said, "Don't darling, please don't," but her voice carried no conviction.

His chest was against her back and she could feel he had already removed his t-shirt. His flesh against her back, and his hands fondling her breasts sent quivers of hot desire coursing through her. She made one last attempt at resistance.

"We can't darling...we can't," but again there was no conviction. She knew what was about to happen, knew it must happen, even that it should have happened long ago.

Clay moved her to the bed and eased her down on to it. For a few moments he stood beside the bed gazing at her as he removed his jeans and underpants. She could see clearly his erect penis pointing upward, and she thought she could see it throbbing in time to his heartbeat, its head already shiny with precum.

Wordlessly Clay lay beside her, his hands once more caressing her breasts, and then his lips were on hers and in a final act of surrender she opened her mouth to receive his tongue. As they exchanged saliva Rae knew there could be no turning back now. Perhaps the trail that had led to this moment had been laid down long ago and they had reached their destination.

He had stopped kissing her and his lips now closed over one of her nipples. As he sucked and gently nibbled his hand began to stroke her body, gradually moving down towards genitals. A finger began to stoke along the cleft of her vulva until it slipped into her vagina and started to move in and out of her.

"How gentle he is," she thought; his lovemaking was so unlike the rough treatment she had known with her husband. Clay's touch spoke not of raw lust, but love, and for a while Rae allowed herself to float in it as if in a pool of warm water, giving up her body to his caresses.

He had stopped touching her and Rae feared that he had found something about her that repulsed him, but no; he was kneeling between her open thighs and raising her legs and placing them over his shoulders. He was looking at her genitals.