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...."
