Part 01: Spring Break with Mom
This story is a continuation of "Christmas with Mom" and "New Year's Eve with Mom." To give it some semblance of continuity from here on out, all future parts will run under "Mother & Son -- A Love Story.
Sorry that continuing this tale has taken so long to get out to you. This proved to be a difficult part to write. What often hurts an incest story's credibility is how so many people suddenly get brought into the incestuous relationship. Whether the story is thinly disguised truth or simple fiction, the trickiest part is conveying a sense of reality. What I hope is to keep you wondering if many of the people and the places within this story are or were real. In the end as with all things, you decide. Either way, I hope you enjoy. I look forward to your comments and critiques. My inspiration is y'all.
P.S. Consider this a shameless plug, but if you didn't read "The Mark of Danteshwari" please give it a try. I think it was one of my better stories, but very few gave it a look. I really want to know what you think of it.
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Isn't it funny, the little things that can keep you sane? At Christmas, my world was turned upside down as my greatest fantasies and desires came true. In a snow locked Chicago, my mother and I finally succumbed to our unrequited love and become soul mates, joined in body and heart. By New Year's Eve, our bonds were cemented permanently and we both know that, although it will take some years, eventually we will be able to carve out a life that will never again be lived separately.
But for the time being, we both ached from the physical distance that separated us. Mom and I had hoped to get together for a few brief days at the end of January or by St. Valentine's Day at the latest, but alas, that was not to be. One of my younger twin brothers took a bad spill on a ski slope in mid January. He fractured his leg in three places. Oh, he would recover, but he needed a lot of care. Mom knew her place was there, and I understood that -- it was after all, her caring, loving soul that drew me to her. But I hated the separation anyway.
The thing that kept me sane was a picture taken of us on New Year's Eve. We were at the Dinner Club and an employee was taking pictures for sale. I popped for the photograph and it arrived in the mail a couple of days after Mom went home. It shows two people who are intimate and very much in love. We are sitting on a divan where we were sharing a drink and resting for a moment from having danced most the night away.
Mom is curled up next to me, her short dress showing off a lot of thigh. Mom is leaning into me, her right breast almost spilling out her strapless, low cut dress, my hand cupping her left breast as only a lover can. Mom's hand is high up on my thigh. I remember that moment perfectly. We are happy and I am aroused. Slow dancing with Mom has kept me hard most of the night and at the moment she knows that her hand is dangerously close to the bulge in my pants. She is grinning mischievously into the camera. I can close my eyes and still smell her. Sweat mixed with that ever present hint of jasmine, with the scent of her arousal delicately mixing in and wafting around us.
Whenever I started to feel too blue, I took the picture out. I studied it as I grew hard, remembering the feel of Mom's soft skin, the taste of her mouth as we kiss. I would remember the utter perfection of Mom's body against mine and the way we seem to fit perfectly body against body, mouth to mouth and cock to pussy. I usually masturbated then, calling out to Mom as I ejaculated. I missed her so bad. The winter and the cold went hand in hand with my misery and I knew it was even harder on her.
I at least could sit here and look at this picture and masturbate and call out to her. Mom was stuck in a house that held the ashes of a dead marriage. She loved and loves the twins, but they were much like the old man in their attitudes and behavior. I have no doubt they love Mom in their own way, but for too long, they have viewed her more as a convenience and live-in servant than a mother and woman. I cannot imagine how lonely she must have been.
Winter was long and passed slowly. I went to class and to work. I did what I must, but my mind and heart were not in it. My thoughts lingered on my mother and the question of when I would see her again. I called home once a week, but she was never really able to talk. I couldn't write for fear that the old man might open the letter by accident. Mom haunted my dreams, beautiful and often naked, but almost always just out of reach. Winter was long and it passed slowly, but Spring was coming and I knew with Spring, my one true love would be with me again.
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My dearest love,
There aren't words to describe how much I love you and how much I miss you. I know you're lonely, son. I'm lonely too. Each morning, I wake up, the need to be in your arms so great, I almost cry when I roll over and you're not there. In the evenings, sleep comes hard because I am not curled up with you, feeling your body warm against mine, our sweat slowly drying after making love and your seed inside me, reminding me of my sweet son and lover.
Stay strong, John. I know that our day will come. We will steal our moments in the meantime and they will be all the sweeter for the rarity of their occurrence. I miss you so much, sweetheart. I roam through this house that is no longer my home, aching to turn and see your smiling face and rush into your arms and kiss you and let our love sweep us away.
When your brother's asleep, I steal into your bedroom, trying to absorb your presence there. I step into your closet and hold your clothes to my face, inhaling your scent and remembering us intertwined on your bed, joined together, you swollen inside me. When I can, I lie on your bed and imagine you here with me, making love to me, making me moan and squirm. I play with myself, pretending you are deep inside me until I find some release. It is never fully satisfying, but it will have to do until I am in your arms again.
Soon, darling, it will be soon. Your little brother mends quickly and arrangements are being made. Your spring break is coming and I have such plans for us. Be patient, my love, I will be with you soon.
Love,
Mom
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I read Mom's letter again, my body rocking a bit as the El rolls along.. It came two weeks ago and Spring Break was now upon us. I haven't heard from Mom since the letter. My last call home, my brother answered and told me Mom was out shopping. I chatted with the dork for a while, but hung up finally, frustrated that I didn't even get to hear her voice. I finished my last mid term and collected my check from the bottling company. My supervisor kidded me about taking a week off and "goin' down to Florida and sniffing out some young tail," as he passed me my paycheck.
I got off the train at my stop and walked down the street to my apartment building. The weather of early April was still cool enough to wear a heavy sweater, but you could smell Spring in the air -- like the world was coming back to life after a too long hibernation.
I walked upstairs and stopped at my door. It is open. It had been locked when I'd left. Either my heart's desire was about to granted or my television would be missing! I let my bookbag slip from my shoulder so I could sling it at a dope addict and stepped warily in the room. It was dim, the shades drawn and utterly quiet. And then I heard her voice -- to my soul it was like a drink of cold water to a man dying of thirst.
"Hello, my love." I turned and saw my mother leaning against the kitchen counter, lovelier than I remembered. Another man passing her on the street might note a pretty, middle aged woman, but to me, my mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. Mom stands five foot, four inches tall and has black hair. It had been longer the last time I saw her. She'd cut it shorter, almost a pageboy and very becoming -- it framed her lovely face drawing attention to her big, brown eyes. Mom had on a tight, V-necked sweater that showed off her tremendous cleavage as the material molded itself to her heavy gourd-like breasts. Her bra did little to hide her erect nipples. She was wearing a knee high skirt that emphasized her shapely calves. My cock began to swell just at the sight of her.
"Mom!" I said softly and then I was moving and we were in each other's arms, our lips pressed to each other as our tongues became reacquainted. Her body felt so right pressed against mine. The flames of passion raced through us as we hugged each other tighter. My hand caressed her ass cheek over the material of her skirt and then I started to bunch the material up until I could feel the soft as butter skin of her ass. I squeezed and then ran my finger upwards until I touched her panties.
Mom broke the kiss, giggling and trying to wriggle out of my groping grasp. "Stop it, son! We don't have time."
I pulled her close and nuzzled her throat and whispered, "Then we need to make the time. We need to make up for all the time we've been apart."
Mom replied with a deep throaty moan and pressed herself against me as I again squeezed her ass cheeks. I ran my tongue along the curve of her upper breast and with my free hand, placed her hand on the jean covered bulge in my crotch. Mom sighed again and after briefly squeezing my blue jean covered cock, again pushed me away.
Mom's face was flushed as was her upper chest. Again she laughed and shook her head. "I'm serious, John. We have to go. We've got a plane to catch!" She picked up an envelope from the kitchen counter and waved it at me. I could see the symbol of a major airline on the envelope.
"A plane, Mom? What plane?"
Mom giggled again and hurled herself back into my arms. "The plane that's taking us to Florida, you silly boy!" Mom was having fun teasing me and enjoying every minute of it. "It's Spring Break and Momma is taking her lover son to Florida." Mom kissed me, rubbing her breasts against me as she did so and then slipped one last time away from me.
Bending over, she lifted up my duffel bag and handed it to me. "I packed for you, son. Let's get moving before we miss our flight."