This is a sequel to A Winter Hike with Mom. I recommend reading that story first to understand David and his mother's first experience, but it is not essential.
I leaned across Mom and looked out of the window. It was a clear moonless night, and I could see the occasional light below as we flew over the Rockies on our way back to Philly. I felt Mom's breath on my cheek and inhaled her faint perfume. We were on the red-eye. Mom was sitting next to me in the window seat, silent, alone in her thoughts. I had the aisle. We were in business class on our way back from Dad's funeral. My father had died in Oceanside, CA. Drowned in the damned marina trying to save his girlfriend, who had fallen off the boat late at night. I pulled down the blind and sat back in my seat.
It had happened twelve days ago. My mother was upset, very upset. So was I. Relatives had died before, but not like this. I had never seen her cry, ever, before that funeral. Afterwards Mom spoke to me in the limo taking us to the airport, still distraught, weeping.
"I wish I had stayed with your father, David. It all happened so fast back then. Our families wanted us to split. But now I'm forty and where am I, really? On my own and so busy at the Institute I don't know if I will ever find someone. I've left it too late." My parents had broken up at college when I came along. They weren't married and I was an accident.
"Mom, you've got Topher." Topher was Mom's new boyfriend. He was amiable enough, although he wore too much aftershave, and was perhaps not the sharpest tool in the shed. But he was better than the last one.
"Topher," said Mom, hopelessly.
OK, perhaps I should not have mentioned Topher. Mom was thinking about Dad. This was pretty heavy stuff from my Mom, a physician-researcher, who doesn't go in for self-pity. By the way, Mom hooked up with Topher pretty soon after our adventure in the Pennsylvania woods. I don't know why, but I suspect the two events were linked.
I've been much closer to Mom ever since that little incident on the hike six months before. We'd had an emergency in the cold, shared a sleeping bag, and things happened that are forbidden between mother and son. We couldn't help it. It was my first time. But far more important, she saved my life on that day at great risk to herself. I never forget that.
Since then our relationship has changed, but nothing physical had taken place again. Mom and I have both chosen to carry on as if nothing happened. But, you know, it is difficult to put the genie back in the bottle after it has been released. As a consequence I am beginning to understand the meaning of the phrase 'sexual tension'. And now my father is dead, Mom's only true love.
Occasionally I see her watching me when she thinks I'm not looking, especially if I'm half-dressed. I certainly sneak looks at her, too. Like her ass when she bends over to unload the dishwasher in her jogging pants. She has a great ass. Two boiled eggs in a handkerchief is the expression that comes to mind. She is a very attractive woman, dark, slender and athletic. Aside from looks, she has a spark of vitality and fun that I never tire of. Her mother was Italian. I found myself spending more time at her Rittenhouse Square apartment, helping with things that she doesn't really need help with.
But most of the time during semester I lived in student accommodation. It was easier to entertain Hilda there. She was the other big change in my life. My first girlfriend. Late in the day by most people's standards, but my very own. She had just finished her first year at UPenn, like me. She was a little overweight, bossy, and her face was a stranger to make-up. But she was kind enough to have sex with me. Mom was always polite and sociable to her. But I could tell Mom didn't really like her.
The funny thing is, both my Mom and I had found sexual partners pretty quickly after our involuntary woodland tryst. So, all done and dusted, then. No issues at all. Moving on with our lives. Well, not really, as it turned out.
Neither Mom nor I had smiled, let alone laughed, since we heard the news about Dad, nearly two weeks before. The flight back, I felt, could be the beginning of a return to normality. I was looking forward to getting back together with Hilda. Two weeks is a long time.....and I seemed to be thinking about sex more and more as our sad trip concluded.
Anyway, by now my IPad mini had lost its charge and I was tired of staring at the seat in front. Mom was wide awake too, and doing nothing in particular. I decided to try and cheer her up. Mom has a mischievous sense of humor, which had gone missing since Dad's death. I had persuaded her to have a drink a little earlier, but it hadn't done the trick. Then, as luck would have it, Mom gave me my chance. She must have been tired of the silence, too.
"How are you getting on with Brunhilde? She seems like a nice girl," said Mom.
This was crap. Mom thought she was a dimwit with only one useful function; to initiate me into the mysteries of sex. I thought that was a bit harsh, but it is possible Mom was on the right track. Either way, I was very grateful to Hilda. At the time it never occurred to me that Mom might be jealous.
"Well, Mom. She is very giving. Her name is Hilda. Not Brunehilde." Mom snorted. I carried on.
"Mom, we can talk, can't we?"
There is not a mother in the universe who will answer no to that question.
"Of course, Davy."
"We'll, I 'm a bit confused about some aspects of my physical relationship with Hilda."
"Go on. I'm all ears." Mom's eyes brightened.
"Well, when we first started being intimate ..."
"I'm sorry David you'll have to be more specific. Do you mean having sexual intercourse?" Mom was a stickler for correct terminology.
"Yes. The first time it all happened so fast I didn't have a chance to do a good job. You know, to please Hilda ."
"How unfortunate. I expect you got another opportunity?" Mom was enjoying this, I could tell. Her eyes were wide and intense.
"Oh yes. I was determined to please her the next time. So when I was ready to blow my load...."
"You mean ejaculate?" interrupted Mom, frowning with a phony expression of professional interest on her face.
"Yes, anyway, this time I was ready to give Hilda a real treat. So, just as I was about to ejaculate I withdrew out of her and came all over her face. There was so much cum, she looked like Frosty the Snowman."
"Really? What happened then?" Mom was struggling to keep a straight face. I shook my head to emphasize how baffled I was.
"Well, instead of being pleased, like I thought, she went ballistic. Jumped up yelling at me and ran into the bathroom to wash it off. I don't understand it."
Mom laughed so hard and so long I thought they were going to divert the plane. She finally calmed down, after the stewardess gave us an angry 'be quiet' look, and I continued.
"Mom, in everything I've seen, you know on the Internet, the woman looks so pleased when it happens. I can't understand it." Mom was still struggling, but she managed to speak.
"Well, Davy....she does sound like a strange one, I must say. Perhaps she needs some counseling. You could suggest it to her. I know some sex therapists."
"I don't know, Mom. She might take it the wrong way."
We lapsed into silence. I was glad to give Mom a laugh. But we'd been in the air for a while. It was time to get some sleep. The cabin was quiet, the lights down low, and most passengers were asleep, no thanks to Mom. I pulled the thin blanket over my lap and made sure my seat was back as far as it would go. Just for comfort I loosened the top button on my jeans, no more. Mom settled down under her blanket as well. The engine noise soon lulled me off to sleep.
I was in a cinema watching a film. Not sure what it was. The film itself wasn't sexy. The cinema was not very full, but someone was sitting next to me. I don't know who, you know how it is in dreams. Anyway soon a hand stole over into my lap and started softly rubbing. The hand unbuttoned my fly all the way down and pulled out my dick, which was getting hard. It felt great. The soft petite hand, which was wet and slippery, started to stroke me. It felt my dick all over, squeezing me softly, playing with me. As I got harder the hand started to pump gently, ever so gently. I got really hard. Gradually the pace picked up and the grip tightened, stroking and tugging all the way up and down. It was so warm and wet. I was getting to the point of no return.
I didn't look to see who was sitting next to me. It might have been a man which would have spoiled things, and in any case you are only so logical in dreams. Then I heard a voice whispering in my ear, soft, feminine, very familiar.
"You can come on my face anytime, my darling David."
And then I came.
I think I woke up instantly. I opened my eyes and sat bolt upright, looking around me. Mom was fast asleep, turned towards the window. I watched her for signs of life. Had she said it or was it my imagination in the dream? Then something else got my attention. I looked down at my lap, still covered by the blanket, thank God. But I had a problem. My hand checked while the other firmly held the blanket in place. My fly was unbuttoned all the way down, just like in the dream. My dick was free and untrammeled. I don't know how that could have happened. Worse, my now shrinking dick had very unhelpfully shot a huge load onto my lap under the blanket. I had a big problem, and I didn't think the flight attendant would help. Business class only gets you so far.
