This is the first chapter in a three chapter story. Slow build to this one.
I do not condone the behavior in this story. The purpose of this story is entertainment only. As always, rate, comment, like, and follow.
I have lived a quiet, law abiding, simple life until recently. I'm Lauren, and I come from a decent working-class family who raised me in a major city that I do not want to share. My family has owned a three-family house for my entire life. Each apartment was a spacious two-bedroom. Growing up, my sister, Becky, and I shared a bedroom. Besides the sisters' typical arguments, Becky and I have always been close. Becky has always looked out for me like any older sibling would. I followed my sister to the same university when I went to college. During our college years, we had talked our parents into renting us the second floor apartment in our house. Becky went to school for nursing while I wanted to be a schoolteacher.
During my sophomore year of college, I got pregnant by my boyfriend, John. When John found out, he immediately told me he had no interest in being a parent. Nor would he consider having a child with me. John's reaction broke my heart, and at the time, it almost destroyed me. I was devastated and terrified of being a single parent. My family rallied around me, telling me they would support me every step of the way. Nine months later, my son, Greg, was born. I continued to go to school because all I had ever wanted was to be a schoolteacher.
That was twenty five years ago. Things have changed since then. We all still live in the same house I grew up in. My parents live on the first floor. Becky lives on the second floor with her on-again-off-again boyfriend and her nineteen year old daughter, Jessica. I was living alone in the third floor apartment for the past three years until my son Greg moved back in last year. Our house has been paid off for years. Luckily, none of us have the burden of paying most of our income on rent.
Greg was twenty four when he moved back home. He had been living with his girlfriend for three years, and they broke up because my son refused to marry her or talk about a timeline for children. I never told Greg this, but his girlfriend was in the right. After four years of being together and three years of living together, he should have made up his mind on whether or not he wanted more. But...I was happy to have him back home with me.
Like the rest of us, Greg was obsessed with work. College wasn't for him, so he went into the trades and was working on becoming a licensed electrician. I wouldn't say he had commitment issues; it was more like he has always known what he does and doesn't want. When he wants something, he goes all in. When it comes to women, they have always thrown themselves at him. He's a good looking man. Greg is roughly six feet tall with brown hair and dark eyes and he has always kept himself in great shape. Even though I am his mother, I know why women salivate over him. Add the fact that he had strategically placed tattoos all over him; he was a sexy looking young man. We have always been close, with no secrets between us.
Which brings me to how everything started. I still can't believe everything has changed since a year ago when he came back home. I had gotten lonely during the three years that I lived alone. I would work, then come home and continue to work on my students' papers in the evenings. I was used to being scantily dressed, and wine had become my best friend. Once Greg came home, I tried to dress more appropriately and cut back on my wine intake. Sometimes, I was more successful than others. Everything started innocently one night while Greg and I were watching TV on the couch. I had on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and more wine in me than I should have. Greg asked, "How come you don't go out more and live a little bit? You're super hot and shouldn't be shuffling back and forth from work to home every day. You do realize that you have a right to live and have fun, right, Mom?"
I was taken aback at my son calling me hot but brushed it off as he had to say that about me. Don't get me wrong, I am ok looking. I have been described as cute, and like my son, I have kept my body in shape. I am petite at five-foot-three, with black hair and brown eyes. At forty-four, my body held up. I still have my perky b-cup breasts that look bigger because of my slim waist, slightly wide hips, and small, firm, round bum. Like I said, I am cute, but no one has ever called me hot before Greg. While blushing from my son's compliment, I told him, "Thank you, sweetie. I like my life. You don't need to worry about me. I appreciate you and how you worry about me. But, trust me, I like my life," I lied. He was right, I hadn't dated in years, and I would get lonely at times. I had never been a floozy who slept around with different men. I was a mom, then a teacher, and I always placed my needs at the bottom of the list. We talked about nothing for the rest of the night while I continued to drink more wine than usual. When it was time for bed, I was noticeably wobbly on my feet. Greg walked me to my bedroom and helped me to bed. He covered me and was walking out when I said, "Too old to kiss your mother and give her a goodnight hug?" I don't know what made me say this to Greg. Maybe it was my loneliness and wine catching up with me. Or my need for human contact. As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a shiver down my spine from embarrassment.
Greg stopped at the door before turning around and giving me a big smile. "I'll never be too old to give my mom a hug and kiss goodnight," he told me as he walked back to the bed. I was surprised when Greg got to the bed, he pealed the blankets back, exposing me to him. He climbed into the bed next to me. I lifted my head, nestling his arm under my neck. I wrapped an arm around my son before resting my head on his chest. My son ran his fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head while asking, "Is this ok? Are you comfortable?"
All I could think of was my poor son. He was stuck consoling his lonely mother. Although, having a man hold me felt good, even if it was my son. "This is perfect," I said in a hushed tone. Before I knew it, I was passing out.
My dilemma hit me the following morning. I woke to our bodies being intertwined with each other's. We slept on our sides, facing each other. One of my legs was wrapped around my son's waist. One of Greg's legs was nestled between my legs and his face was hovering between my shoulder and neck. I could feel his warm breath on my neck, causing chills throughout my body. More importantly, I could feel my son's penis settled against my mound. I felt small against my son as thoughts whipped through my mind. I thought about how vulnerable I would be if this were any other man. I knew my feelings were inappropriate, and our embrace was going to be embarrassing if he woke up. The warmth flowing through my body caused me to flinch, which created friction as my slit rubbed against my son's throbbing penis. I knew I needed to get out of bed and protect both of us from what was sure to be a humiliating experience for my son. Slowly, I started to untangle our bodies, trying to keep from waking him. Once removed, I slipped out of bed and hurried to the shower.
The experience of being in bed with my son like that caused me to lose my breath in the bathroom. I stripped my clothes, reached between my legs, and felt the dampness that the situation caused. I felt horrible and humiliated that the embrace caused me to get wet. I quickly got in the shower and tried forgetting about my body's reaction. When I got out of the shower, it dawned on me that I hadn't brought any clothes with me. I wrapped a towel around me while thinking about what to do. I thought, 'Greg doesn't know what happened, right? I'll just go to my room and wake him so I can get dressed.' As I walked into my bedroom, wrapped only in my towel, I noticed that Greg was still asleep in my bed. I had hoped he had woken up and gone to his own room. I was struggling with what to do or how to act. My head was debating whether I should wake him and ask him to leave or if I should quietly attempt to get dressed while he was sleeping. I decided to let him sleep as I quickly dried off and started to dress. I watched Greg through my stand-up mirror to make sure his eyes were closed. I felt sneaky getting dressed while my son was feet away from me. I don't know why my behavior suddenly changed this morning. I knew everything I was doing was inappropriate.
Once I was dressed, Greg woke up. I felt the redness forming on my face as I heated up. I tried to act normal as he got out of my bed. "G...G...Good morning," I stuttered from nervousness.
