Momma's Boy

Author's Note: While most of my stories are either true or, at least, based on true events, this one is fantasy only as I've never had children. However, "Blue Eyes", this is for you. Thanks for the inspiration. "Mom"

Jane sighed heavily, looking around the office, wondering what she could do next to keep busy. Her boss grinned at her,

"Bored yet?"

Jane gave a crooked smile back and nodded,

"Yeah, I was trying to figure out what to do next. I can't believe it's so slow."

Vanessa shrugged,

"It's Spring Break. Most of our customers are away."

Glancing at her watch, she continued,

"Look, it really is slow and there's not a lot left here you can do. Why don't you call it a day and take the afternoon off."

Jane's eyes widened briefly and she tried to put forward a "responsible employee look" (whatever that may be!).

"Are you sure, Van?"

The other woman chuckled and nodded,

"I'm sure. I'm the boss. Now go enjoy the afternoon off."

Jane grinned,

"Ok, boss lady. If you insist! Thanks!"

Vanessa watched as Jane got into her car, then drive off. She didn't mind giving Jane the afternoon off. It really was slow and there was no point both of them being bored. She knew that when things got busy again after the break, she could count on Jane to be there.

Jane hummed along to the radio as she drove home, enjoying the relatively traffic-free streets. She was so lucky having landed this job. While it didn't pay what she was used to, it was still enough to live on and have a bit left over. Besides, the owners of the business were such nice people, that it more than made up for the dip in salary. Jane couldn't remember the last time she had actually enjoyed going to work; yet it was something she did now.

Having a job and being happy at it had affected her personal life, also. She was a lot more easy going at home, which made things easier for both her and her son. Jane had been one of those young girls that managed to get herself knocked up early – at 15 to be exact. Now, 25 years later, she was proud of how well she had handled things.

After a tearful confession to her parents, and adamant refusal to give the child up, she spent her teenage years going to school and working part time to help support her child. She had even managed, with the help of her parents, to save enough to go to college. After graduation, she had landed a well paying job that allowed her to save for, and finally purchase, a small house for her and her son. They didn't have a lot of luxuries, but they weren't starving either.

Paul had been a good kid and grew up adoring his mother. He knew how hard she worked to make things good for him and he always did his best to please her and make her proud of him. Once in high school, he managed to keep straight A's and hold down a part time job, proudly handing his weekly cheque to his mother for his "share" of the bills.

Each time he did this, Jane would feel the love and pride in her son swell up inside her and, while the money would have helped a great deal, she put it into a separate bank account for the day Paul would want to go to college.

As Paul grew into manhood, his mother was amazed at how good-looking he was; yet he never seemed to have a girlfriend. She hoped he wasn't gay, not because she was against it, only because she didn't want him to have to go through the pain she knew would be waiting. She had seen it happen with friends. She was relieved to find a couple of old Playboy's under his bed one day when he was about 14.

All the time he was growing up, Jane never dated. Her entire life was devoted to her son. Sure, there were times when she was lonely for companionship her own age, but each time she reminded herself that this was her decision and her responsibility.

As she sat at the intersection, waiting for the light to turn green, her thoughts turned to one time, when Paul was around 18, and she had inadvertently walked in on him in the shower. She froze in her tracks, glued to the sight of her son standing with his back to the spray, a soapy hand wrapped around a very hard prick, his eyes closed with the pleasure he was giving himself. Jane had felt herself get immediately wet as she watched his hand move faster and faster. It must have been the sudden draft of cool air from the still-open door that caught his attention and he opened his eyes, only to yell out,

"MOM!"

, then turn away from her, his ears and neck going scarlet.

The shout startled Jane out of her trance and she mumbled a quick,

"S-sorry…"

before rushing to her bedroom and shutting the door tightly. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she wondered just what she'd been thinking, standing there, watching her son masturbate. Giving herself a mental smack, she knew exactly what she'd been thinking, but she didn't want to admit it. Watching his hand slide up and down the thick shaft had turned her on, she could feel it in the way her nipples and clit had hardened, not to mention the slick heat that was wetting her panties.

She heard the shower turn off and braced herself, but Paul didn't come to her room. After about a half hour of waiting, she took a deep breath and went to the kitchen to prepare their dinner. She made something quick and easy and called Paul. He came down the stairs and sat at the table but neither of them made eye contact or spoke. As usual, Paul did the dishes then headed back to his room, quietly telling his mother he had a test to study for. Again, there was no eye contact and Jane had to strain to hear what he was saying but she just nodded and told him she was going for her bath.

That comment seemed to remind both of them of what had happened earlier and, for the second time that day, Jane watched as her son's ears turned crimson and he slipped into the sanctity of his room. She felt her own face redden at the unacknowledged reference and hurried into the bathroom, trying to forget what she had seen and focus on drawing her bath.

Laying back in the hot water, steam rising around her in wispy, scented tendrils, Jane lazily ran a sponge across her breasts and down her stomach. The warmth of the water against her soft flesh caused a shiver of pleasure and her nipples hardened in response to the heat, then sudden coolness.

Her eyes half open, Jane peered down at her body.

"Not bad for a 40 year old,"

Jane thought to herself as she took stock. Her pale breasts were still fairly firm, with only a slight sag to the sides from laying on her back. The dusty pink tips were hard and long, from the difference in temperatures, Jane told herself. The slight roundness to her belly was unseen as she lay back, giving her a clear view to the closely trimmed mound nestled between shapely thighs.

Jane had always either trimmed very close or shaved completely, no matter that she was the only one that saw it. She thought a full bush ugly and not very hygienic and always kept it closely cropped. The heat of the water had caused the fleshy outer folds to swell and turn a deep pink, the blood flow causing a gentle throb to make itself noticed.

Jane ran the bar of soap over her breasts, a soft gasp escaping her lips as the slippery sensation caused her nipples to harden even more, sending a tingle directly to her clit. Lifting her hips, she let the bar slide down her stomach and across the fleshy mound just above the pouting lips, then turning the soap sideways, running it lightly up and down her slit. Her nipples hardened even more and she brought her free hand up to lightly pinch them.

She couldn't help the soft groan and let the soap slip from her hand and into the water. There was no use denying it any longer, she was hot and needed to cum. Telling herself that it was only because it had been so long since she'd been with a man, she allowed herself to replay the scene she had witnessed earlier. One hand pinching her nipples, the other parting the swollen folds to lightly tease her hard clit, Jane closed her eyes and remembered the sight of her son earlier that day.

Paul had grown tall, at least 6' and his body was toned and defined, obviously playing baseball in the summer and hockey in the winter helped. A small patch of dark hair was centered on his otherwise bare chest, a few fine wisps circling small, dark nipples. Unconsciously, Jane licked her lips as her mind's eye traveled down her son's hard, young body. His flat stomach wasn't quite a six-pack, but it was taut and hairless, except for a faint trail below his belly button that drew the eyes to a thicker patch.

Both hands were busy stroking and teasing her wet slit as Jane pictured the thick meat her son had been fisting. She already knew he was cut, hell she was the one that had insisted upon it. However, the last time she had viewed her son naked, had been about 10 years ago. He had definitely grown since then. He wasn't very long, perhaps 6 inches, maybe a bit more, but the girth was what had impressed Jane. She doubted she'd be able to close her hand around him, then wondered how he'd feel inside her. It had been so long…

Her clit throbbed with the thought and she groaned again, lightly pinching it before sliding two fingers into her aching cunt. The image in her mind was no longer her son, just a male. To be quite honest, at this point in time, the image wasn't even a male to Jane – just a nice thick, juicy cock. Lost in her fantasy, she plunged her fingers in and out of her hot pussy as the other hand rubbed her clit. She could see the hand stroking the shaft, the head a deep red colour. Faster and faster the anonymous hand moved and faster and faster her own hand went.

Suddenly, her back arced and her hips thrust against her fingers in a sharp series of jerky grinds as she felt her needy cunt spasm around the digits filling it. In her mind she could see the hot piece of meat shoot jet after jet of creamy cum, the sight making her ache to taste it, feel it. A whisper in her mind was what sent her over the edge –

"Oh, Mom! I'm cumming for you…."

A horn blared and caused Jane to blink and shake her head. Waving apologetically at the driver behind her, she hit the gas and continued through the intersection, wondering when the light had actually turned green.

She squeezed her thighs together, hoping to relieve some pressure on her aching clit, wondering what had made her think of that time when Paul was a teenager. It had been fantasy only, albeit she had been a bit ashamed once she came down from her orgasm. However, remembering that time had caused her to become extremely aroused and she knew she'd have to get off when she got home. At least she'd have lots of time before Paul got home from his job.

To be continued…