A note from the author.
This is a follow up to a story I published in March 2020 entitled 'My Son and Me, At Last We Do' yes, it has taken a long time! I recommend that you read that before reading this although, this does stand by itself as an erotic episode.
This is what happened when I next saw him three months or so later when he came home en route to a training course in New York with the bank for which he worked.
Love
Jayne.
Although not at all a Shakespeare fan the phrase, 'parting is such sweet sorrow' swept through my mind as I clung to my son at Dubai airport. Saying our goodbyes after a week together got to me and all thoughts of airport decorum were pushed from my mind. As our lips met, albeit fairly briefly, I was acutely aware that it was not an embrace or kiss of a son and his mother. On the flight home I was pretty miserable and although I was able to sleep for a few hours I couldn't stop thinking about the last few week.
It was the first time I had seen Peter since he'd moved to Dubai to work for an investment bank a few months earlier. In some ways I was dreading it as I was staying in his two-bedroomed flat with him whilst his flat mate was on vacation and I had the feeling that it might well be too close for comfort. Over perhaps a five-year period I had developed strong feelings for him which I was learning, mainly by whatsapps and chat rooms, were reciprocated by him. Although neither of us had been brave enough to mention it to the other before he relocated to Dubai, our behaviour when we were together illustrated the mutual feelings of an attraction that was worryingly more than just maternal. During those five years several events had suggested that there was a strong, mutual, sexual attraction between us. These included the time of my fortieth where my husband, Kevin had let me down about going to the Ritz and in the car on the way home, Peter had consoled me to the point that I thought we were going to kiss. Or at my anniversary when we danced and he held me in a completely, non-son/motherly way squashing my breasts against his chest and I felt the stirrings of an erection; then there was the afternoon when he came home unexpectedly and I was lying topless on my back in the garden. I looked up, our eyes met and we both smiled. In what seemed to be a very obvious way his gaze slowly roamed over my body and zeroed in on my D cup breasts. I froze as I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to sit up and flaunt them at him and another part hoped he was going to sit on my sun bed but he didn't. Then there were the times we saw each other around the house in our underwear and those when I went into his room to kiss him goodnight as well as when we touched each other, held each other's gazes or smiled at what really were silly little in jokes between us that no one else knew about.
As the plane thundered westwards and back home to what I thought of as 'sexual safety' all those thoughts had filled my mind and, indeed, my dreams as well. And now I was about to see him again as he was on his way from Dubai to New York for a training programme with a short stopover at home.
Following my divorce from Kevin and the splitting up of our assets, I now lived in a lovely two-bedroomed maisonette in Docklands. Quite amicably, I'd agreed that Kevin kept the house that had been the family home and that I kept the maisonette and the holiday home we had in Majorca.
Kevin had arranged a get together lunch for the four of us at what had been our family home. Peter, my daughter Sara and I were staying there overnight then moving to my place in the morning where he and Sara would stay with me for the rest of the weekend before Pete went off to New York on the Sunday evening.
It was a nice lunch although frustratingly Peter and I were never alone and we didn't have the chance to chat much and I, particularly but he as well I imagined, had to be careful with glances at each other. Equally, although obviously thoughts of those few days in Dubai were going through my mind and I guessed his as well, we couldn't discuss our feelings. And if his were anything like mine then I was surprised at just how cool he appeared to be.
The lunch went on until five-thirty or so when Sara surprised us by saying that she had to leave as she was due at a surprise party she'd forgotten about; how she'll ever make it as a lawyer with such a lack of organisational skills I'll never know! And then around nine, which was one am Dubai time Peter said he was absolutely knackered and was it okay if he crashed out so Kevin and I were left alone for the rest of the evening.
We went and sat in the small living room that when we'd lived there as a family we'd called the snug. It hadn't changed much and still had the same three-piece suite with a coffee table separating the chairs from the couch, a large TV and a bureau. It was nice cosy room and I felt very comfortable as Kevin poured as both large brandies that I noted were Hennesy XO and smiling I remarked. "Wow, I get the good stuff do I?"
"Yes none of the cheap Spanish plonk for you my dear on such an occasion."
"And one that's ended rather suddenly."
"Well not really ended Jay has it?" he asked sitting next to me on the green, leather Chesterfield and continuing with, "After all we have the whole night ahead of us so, it's just like old times isn't?"
"Yes in some ways I guess it is," I replied looking at him across my glass that I was holding to my mouth as our eyes met. And as they did, I was surprised to see the look in his eyes that I had become familiar with over the years, 'He wants sex' rushed into my mind followed quickly with, 'We mustn't.' Illogically, I was thinking, it would be unfair to Peter who was asleep upstairs but I quickly readjusted my thinking to recognise how daft it was to think like that of my son about his father who was still my husband.
It wasn't as though Kevin and I had not had sex since we'd separated as we had a few times but there'd been nothing for probably nine or so months. Equally, I hadn't been with anyone since well before Dubai which was almost three months ago now and my only sex since then had been self-induced.
During the early stages of our separation I had more as a joke than anything worked out how many times Kevin and I'd probably had sex and basing it on three to four times a week for 25 years or so it surprised me when I came up with getting on for 4500! So the previous sex we'd had since the separation had been conducted with that in my mind together with the thought, 'One more fuck will do no harm!' Now, though, as we eye flirted, well he did, there was another thought which was the same one that had caused me to reject a couple of sexual suitors recently; it would be unfaithful to my feelings for Peter.
Kevin moved a little closer and putting his hand on my knee said quietly, "And maybe we could make it more like the good old times?" with the emphasis on good as he squeezed the bare flesh of my tanned leg.
My immediate reaction was to think of our son upstairs in bed and without thinking I asked, "What about Peter?" Fortunately he took that to mean disturbing him and not as my flustered thinking had confusingly meant it.
"He sleeps like a log and with his jet lag he'll never wake up and what if he did? After all we're still an old married couple aren't we?" he said smiling as he closed the small gap between our hips so they were pressed together as he slid his other arm around my shoulders. "Come to bed with me Jayne," he went on sliding his hand further up my leg so it was under my skirt and near to my panties.
I was torn. If I slept with him and Peter found out God knows what that would lead to and that concerned me. But on the other hand, he was still my husband and it wasn't out of order so I hesitated as he went on, "Come on let's go to our bedroom and make love."
Somewhat to my annoyance I was finding his invitation quite impelling and the prospect of having sex with him very attractive. Even as the marriage was going tits up when we were both cheating I hadn't stopped enjoying him as a lover. Similarly, on the few occasions since the separation when we'd had sex, which was what I called it now rather than making love, it had been good; something about familiarity, I guess, not breeding contempt! And on top of all that I had not been with anyone recently. I was thinking of that as Kevin pulled me into an embrace and it hit me that this was probably the longest I'd gone without sex in twenty-five to thirty years. That said, I still felt a little surprised when I didn't resist or hold back as he pulled me against him and kissed me on the head.
Other than creating a bloody great scene I knew that I had to go along with him and let him take me to bed, after all I was a dutiful wife so, I didn't resist him and raised my face so that he could kiss me. The kiss was lovely and, as he'd said, just like old times when things were great between us. As his tongue opened my mouth and slipped into it and as my lips writhed against his so my mind was cleared of all other considerations and was purely focused on kissing and being kissed.
Since my earliest memories of making out I have always really loved being kissed and kissing. I think it's so intimate and affectionate and in some ways can be even more significant an act than intercourse. Alright, with the latter you're usually near or completely naked which brings another feature to the situation but that apart, it's one of my favourite aspects of sex. Over the many years I have been kissing, which started when I was 15, I've learned a lot and have, I think acquired a range of skills and developed a good kissing style. I do try hard and I put a lot into it, including, of course opening my mouth and using my tongue in his, as well as squirming my lips against his, licking around his lips and sucking both his top and bottom lips. Fortunately, Kevin is as avid a kisser as me and that was always a core part of our lovemaking and a major reason why the sexual part of our relationship worked so well from when we met, throughout our time together and on the few occasions since the separation. It was also the main reason that shortly after he'd kissed me I was walking up the stairs to our bedroom with the front of my dress undone and the skirt part hitched up around my waist with his arm around me.
We hardly spoke. There was no need for that. He didn't need to ask my permission for anything as in our lovemaking he could do anything he wanted to me and I could ask for whatever I wanted. Equally, I didn't need to query anything as we were being driven by our bodies that had taken us over and were directing our minds and not the other way around as is the norm between casual lovers. All thoughts of whether it was right or wrong, my attraction to Peter and my lack of recent sex left my mind as that focused solely on my husband and what we were doing. It also wasn't the time nor was there the need for subtle undressing of each other. He didn't need to coax my dress off, I readily removed it and hung it in the wardrobe that used to be mine. There was no need for him to persuade me to remove my bra as I, teasingly as I used to do, turned my back so he could unclip it for me and I could slip it off. Naked above the waist I turned to face him as he was removing his trousers and socks and I flaunted my breasts at him even having the confidence to cup each one and hold them up for his attention. That was both visual and physical as he kissed and licked them before sliding his hand down my body, into my knickers and without hesitation finding my clit and making my body shudder.
With my mouth glued to his I had one arm around him as with my other hand I found his erection and joyfully, almost, stroked and rubbed its familiarity. As usual, he responded by slowly fucking the surrogate pussy I was providing and like that we clambered onto the bed that somehow he'd turned down without me knowing or, as it suddenly hit me, he'd turned down earlier in anticipation of getting me into it! Whatever the timing I was beyond caring as we lay side by side on it and ground our bodies together, ran our hands all over each other and kissed and kissed. Somehow my knickers came off and he laid on his front with me squashing my breasts against his nicely muscular back. This was a position, that for some reason I'd forgotten, we'd used many times as part of our foreplay. I squirmed myself against him and reaching under his body that he lifted up a little I found his gorgeous hardness and gently wanked it. With my other hand I found his, still pert for his age, ass cheeks and squeezed and pinched them and then slid my fingers into the crease between them and, as I knew he liked, ran one along it pausing and pressing right on his anus causing him to grunt, "Oh yes oh fuck yes Jay." So I pressed harder and it slipped it in a little way causing him to grunt and sigh even louder, "Mmmmm fuck, that's fucking brilliant."
