You could say that Mike was advanced for his age. He was in his last year in high school, but his understanding of psychology, especially as it relates to the female of the species, was remarkable. Basically, he divided girls and women into two categories: strong and weak. Mike preferred the weak variety, and he pursued them like a lion running down a baby wildebeest on the Serengeti. His success rate was also remarkable, especially considering his average looks.
Around school, he had just about run out of prey, though. His reputation was such that his rich pickings were drying up like a bad year in the Sahara. Girls talk, and the word gets around about a guy who appears to be sweet and gentle until he's talked your panties off and had his fun, and then suddenly turns to chase the next straggler. The landscape of broken hearts at Mike's school looked a bit like bones bleaching in the sun out on the savanna.
Mike wasn't particularly physically imposing, which was to his advantage. He could appear innocent that way, the better to lure his unsuspecting prey into bed. But no girl was quite enough in and of herself, and after a few encounters, Mikey headed for greener pastures, leaving the poor coed to wonder what had happened. He was even able to create in them the belief that the breakup had somehow been their fault, which was a real talent on his part. Many a young girl actually felt sorry for him when their affair ended. Mike never felt sorry for anything.
Mike had inherited his talents from his dad, Lance. Lance was and always had been a hound. Lance finally settled down with Nancy because of the advantages she brought him. She was trusting, cute, younger than him, and from a wealthy family. Lance used her connections to get a good position and her trust to obscure years of cheating. But he always took care of Nancy and Mike emotionally, superficially at least. Nancy was actually happy, in the sense that "ignorance is bliss". In a way, it was a pretty functional family. It just wasn't a Norman Rockwell kind of functionality.
As a trusting and weak-willed mother, Nancy had always been easily manipulated by her one and only son. She doted on him, and he learned early how to push her buttons without her knowing it. He got most everything he wanted through honey, not vinegar, and Nancy was quite happy with and proud of her son. After all, Mike was a good student, and he seemed to be very popular at school.
It's hard to say when exactly Mike began to think of his mom as a potential outlet for his sexual desires. She was very cute. She was very handy. That he could manipulate her was without question. Maybe it was the drying up of the "new woman pool" at his school, the challenge of playing the big con on Mom, or some genuine Oedipal desire. But as Mike neared the end of his high school career, he began to set his sights on Nancy. From his initial incestuous thoughts, it was almost a foregone conclusion that he would have her. He remembered a little joke his father had told him once.
"Mikey, do you know how to steal another man's woman?"
"Uh no, Dad. How do you steal another man's woman?" Mike replied.
"One piece at a time, son. One piece at a time."
-----
The first bits would be a snap. Hugs and kisses, moving into extended necking and petting. His mom always hugged him and kissed his cheek, so he could ease her down that path to the first turn. To start off with, flowers.
"Mom, are you home?"
"In here, sweetie. I'm fixin' supper."
Mike walked in the kitchen and found Nancy cutting up veggies for the wok. He walked up beside her and kissed her cheek, his right arm hiding a bouquet of red roses behind him.
"Happy spring, Mom," he said, pulling the flowers out of hiding.
"Mikey! You didn't get those for me did you? Oh, you sweet, sweet boy!"
Nancy put her knife down, turned to her son, and grasped the roses, inhaling their scent.
"Just a little present for my beautiful mother."
"But red roses, honey. They're so expensive, and people usually get them for their sweethearts. Moms usually get daisies or something."
"You are my sweetheart, Mom. I love you."
"Oh, and I love you so much, honey." Nancy put the flowers on the counter, hugged her son warmly around the ribs, and kissed him on the cheek. Mike brought his hands from around her shoulders to her face and put his lips on hers.
Timing was critical. This first little piece of Momma's pie needed to be taken with a mixture of strength and subtlety. The kiss was on her lips, firm, chaste, and just long enough to make an impression and stick in her memory. A kiss to plant a small suggestion, not to over power her.
Mike pulled back and looked lovingly in his mother's eyes. He'd used the same look in so many situations, and he knew it could begin to melt a female heart. It needed to be warm and sincere. Yeah, he could fake warm and sincere.
Pressing his luck, Mike couldn't resist another lip-to-lip with Mom, and she didn't back away, though she felt a little tickle back in her brain warning her that something was not quite right.
For a week, Mike spent as much time as possible with his mother. He was oh-so helpful in the kitchen, cleaning house, shopping. He held her hand while they watched TV or shopped. He kissed her neck and cheek. A few times, he kissed her lips, and Nancy found herself relaxing more and beginning to enjoy the kisses and to feel that they were normal and good. Mike was careful to confine his extra affections to times when they were alone, though.
Mike understood his dad. He knew that those late nights and occasional out of town trips were not all about work. Maybe Nancy had an inkling of this, too, but she was not a woman to rock the boat. Lance would never suspect anything between his wife and son if Mike kept the signs hidden. And Mike was good at hiding lots of things.
-----
On one of Lance's late nights at the office, Mike bumped the game up a notch. One of his standard techniques involved getting his prey emotional and then taking advantage. Emotional women, especially weak ones, are easier to manipulate. They tend to put themselves into the hands of someone they trust and to interpret actions that should be warnings as concern and love.
Sitting on the couch with his mom, after a simple dinner and kitchen cleanup, Mikey complained, "There's nothing on TV tonight. How about we just talk for awhile? I want to know all about your life. What was it like for you growing up?"
"My gosh, Mike, you know all about that. There's not much to tell. I grew up in Pennsylvania with your Grandpa and Grandma. All very ordinary stuff."
"Yeah, but I don't know about how you were in high school. You're so beautiful, you must have had a lot of boyfriends. Were you a cheerleader or anything?" Mike was probing for a soft spot. He wanted something he could use to flip her switch. Ideally, he wanted her crying and vulnerable.
"Gosh, Mike. I don't think about those days much. I was pretty shy in school. My parents didn't like for me to dress flashy or wear makeup. I didn't really have a real boyfriend. There was a creepy little guy who always tried to get me to go out, but I couldn't stand him."
"Mom," he said, "I can't believe that. You're the most beautiful woman. Dad is so lucky to have you. I hope I'll find a woman just like you someday." Mike kissed her tenderly, his lips slightly parted and damp, his hands holding her cheeks, his eyes gazing steadily into hers. She was melting, and she hugged him to her chest. Mike was so good to her. She loved him and wanted to show him that she did.
For an hour, Mike pressed into those areas of Nancy's memory where the dark bits are hidden. All the time, he soothed her face and shoulders with his hands, kissing her cheeks, eyes, neck, hands and lips. The tears came as she spoke of the heartbreak she felt over her first love, and she sobbed into his chest a few times. As she sobbed, her lips parting, Mike lifted her head and kissed her deeply, and Nancy responded. To her, it was an incredibly intimate moment with her loving son. To him, it was the next piece of Mom, now safely his.
Mike was horny for his mom, but there was more at stake than just sex, although that was a primary objective. He also relished the chase. He was on a power trip. How many sons wanted to bed their mothers? All of them, maybe? How many actually succeeded? Some tiny fraction? Mike was determined to be in that elite group, and so he held his libido in check.
There was just one more move to make that night. One more thing to plant in Nancy's memory. One more turn on that primrose path. As they sat kissing and fondling each other on the couch, Mike pulled Nancy's legs across his lap. She was wearing shorts, and the feel of her thighs in his hands was exquisite. Then, with his right hand on her bottom, he pulled her up into his lap. Nancy interpreted this as her son wanting to hold and comfort her. But the reason Mike did it was so that she would feel his hard cock under her sweet ass cheeks. That would give her something to remember and plant the hint that there could be even more closeness in the days to come. It also gave Mike a bit of fuel for his fantasies. As he slid his hands over his cock in bed later that night, the tantalizing thought of it lying just inches from his mom's warm cunt put him over the edge. In a deliberate move, Mike moaned, hoping his mother would hear and understand.
Nancy went to bed that night wrung out emotionally. She was indeed vulnerable, and she sought solace in sleep, dropping into dreamland soon after curling up on her left side in her bed. She had not had a good cry like that in ages. It was cathartic, but somewhat worrying. Why should she be so emotional? Things were fine, weren't they? She had some suspicions about Lance's activities, but he took care of them. He made love to her sometimes. She hadn't ever wanted another man, surely. But now she was feeling so close to Mike, and yet a little bit afraid of him. He could get to her like nobody else could. Not even her guilt-tripping parents had the strong effect on her that Mikey was having lately.
