Author's note.
The second, fictional part of the story of our intrepid swimmers and their foray into adulthood. All characters are obviously over eighteen (even if barely). All characters are a figment of the imagination and bear no resemblance at all to anyone, living or dead. If you have not done so, I suggest you read Part 01... This story would make little sense otherwise.
Thank you for reading, I appreciate comments and votes. It keeps us motivated.
*****
With Steve out on his date with Brenda, I decided to hit the little gym we had in the basement. We didn't have too much equipment there, just an orbital bike, a couple of standard bikes, and a weight bench. An assortment of weights and a tv made up the rest of the room.
Being less inclined to bulk-up, we only had smaller weights. Gaining weight was never on our mind. If anything, cutting was our forte. Thus we made plenty of repetitions using lighter dumb-bells.
Without a partner, I couldn't do barbell exercises anyway. Too risky. I needed a spotter, and Steve was somewhere frolicking away. I told mum I was hitting the bikes and she asked me if I minded her training with me. No objection obviously. I didn't even know why she asked, it's not as if the place was mine.
I rarely bothered with a shirt downstairs, opting to let the sweat flow and leave the AC off, however I would not be forcing myself too much today so I put a light tshirt on. Mom came down five minutes later having changed into her grey leggings and tight green top. By that time I had done a bit of stretching and warmed up decently. Watching mom do her warming up however precluded me from starting anything.
Finally she climbed on to the bike on my left and I linked the two via the bluetooth connection. This meant that we would be doing our exercises as if we were riding the same track. I'd never bothered to check, but I imagined they were quite expensive. They even had a link to an iPad where you took part in a race. Again, I never bothered to do that. I promised myself I would ask Steve. My technical knowledge didn't stretch that far. I knew how to use the main apps in a computer but never bothered to dig deep.
The training session began slowly, a 90rpm cadence that was slow and loose. I was aready warmed up and ready to unlesh hell on the poor bike, but knew that mum was slower than I was and her muscles not so warm.
The speed was just right to allow us to talk with a slight puff to our conversation. I wondered why mum had not opted to potter around the house setting things straight, then hit the gym in the early evening to pass the time with her friends... or what I called 'sports widows'. Today this naturally left the evening free for her to peruse any of her hobbies, or indulge in some binge tv-watching.
It didn't matter at all to me anyway, since the last days had become a bit of an eye opener for us and for some reason, had opened up a calmness to our life I never knew was missing. I cannot explain it really. It's not as if there was any tension at all. Actually, most of the time we were not in each other's presence.
Despite her not being employed, mum was an activist in so many charities that she was only very fleetingly at home in the mornings. She was even a helper in a couple of church-groups, which puzzled me as she has never ever shown any interest in religion. Well, I actually think she once said 'A total waste of time'... but I guess she loved to help with kids.
But since our subsequent foray into mother-sons love, or affection, it seemed as if we were suddenly looking into a new era of natural bonding and calmness. I was content to go with the flow.
Sometimes when you are biking indoors, these things come into your mind and you start drifting mentally away, blissfully unaware of the conditions around you, slipping quietly into the zone as your mind takes over your body and flies free to allow you time to think while your actions are done automatically... It is frightening to have that happen to me when I am on the bike, and suddenly I wake up to find that I am miles and miles away from home and I wonder... how the fuck did I get here?
A gasp brought me out of that reverie, and I looked sharply to my right at mum who was flushed red in the face and signalling me to slow down. I looked down at my cardiometer, horrified to find that I had slipped into race mode and was pedalling like a man possessed.
"Ooops... Sorry. I didn't realize I had gone into race mode. Sometimes I think too much about other things not related to what I'm doing and I lose track. Let's warm down a bit."
My shirt was totally soaked, practically dripping, and without breaking my pedalling, stripped it off me. In the mirror I could see that my body was gleaming wet with my sweat. It gave me such a thrill to see that I was doing so much good. Looking at mum in the mirror as well, she was sweaty as could be, and she surprised me by taking off her top too. The little green shirt joined my sodden one between the bikes, and I grinned at this sudden change of events.
For all her old-woman protestations, mum was truly a beautiful woman. She was still a slight person, very petite slime frame. Her breasts stood proudly, two smallish globes topped by very pink nipples which stood to attention, glistening with sweat, very erect.
I groaned as I imagined my lips curled around those beauties. It is astonishing how men are so easily drawn to what are, in effect, mammary glands meant to nourish newborn children. I am no expert as I have mentioned before, but I know beauty when I see it. Mum's breasts were just that. Beautiful. Not a sag or a bounce as she continued pedalling on the bike.
I felt a constriction in my pants, and had hardly realized that I already was at full mast. I adjusted my length down my shorts, knowing that my penis could easily slip out my shorts. Mum looked and laughed at my obvious discomfort.
"How did we get to this in a couple of days?" I asked her.
"This what?" mum replied.
"Well. This. Me, you, shirtless. It would be okay for me, but aren't you aware of the effect this is having on your son? It's not normal for sure."
"I know. But I like it. It's so liberating. I love you both. I need love. Not only maternal love, which you two provide amply. But physical love. I want to be held, and kissed and loved. But I'm also afraid of what I could find. I have thought about this over many months. I have forgotten the number of times I've come to wake you up on the morning and find you naked in your beds with the covers on the floor.
Do you think it was the fairy who covered you up? Hell no. It was me. And now that we are in full confession mode, I have something to say which might shock you."
I mumbled that I could hardly hear anything which might shock me more than where this was heading. But I did.
"I took photos of you while you were asleep. Well, photos of your cocks actually. And I masturbated to them."
If there was anything else, that surely wasn't exactly what I was expecting. I stopped pedalling altogether.
"What? When? How long have you been doing this?" I was shocked, although not unhappy that this was happening.
"Remember your eighteenth birthday party? Yours and Steve's? It was the next day. You were both consenting adults by then."
I spluttered with laughter at her boldness. In reality, I would hardly call sleeping people consenting. Of age, certainly, but not consenting.
"Chris. I'm forty. I'm desperate. And I have this love for you both that I cannot understand. It goes beyond what is deemed normal. If you think it not right, I will pick up that shirt, put it on, and make no more moves about this. I want it badly to happen. But I also want YOU both to want it to happen."
It was at that point in time that I knew I wanted this... weirdness.. to continue. Sure, it was wrong, or else, it was drummed into us that it was wrong, but try telling that to an eighteen year old whose raging hormones would provide an erection to every woman on the street.
Instead of talking, I simply got down from the bike, pulled my bare-breasted mother against me, hot sweaty bodies mingling, feeling her nipples, hard rubbery nubs tight against me, and kissed her deeply. I drank from her soul, and it felt just right. My erection had returned in full force and I ground it against her mound as we kissed passionately.
I picked her up and carried her over to our exercise mats, where we sank down onto the soft rubber, panting. Our hands were all over each other, and as mum grabbed my hard cock, I cupped her cunt over her grey leggings. Definitely wet. Definitely hot. And willing.
It seemed that her heat was as urgent as mine. Grabbing my shorts by the sides, she pulled them down and my dick slapped against my stomach in protest. She engulfed me and sucked me hard. I have no yardstick on which to compare, but it was amazing. She blew me expertly, and I had to struggle to take my cock out of her mouth. I wanted to have my cherry busted by mum. But I also wanted that first time to come inside her too. There is no need to mention that birth control never even entered my mind.
It was simply incredible the way she was able to get me all in her mouth, and probably down her throat. I had no misconception about my size. I wasn't big. I was a very ordinary slightly less than six inches. A size which, at that moment however, was hard enough to break rocks with.
