Please read my original story "Son and Mom Have Sex" to see where this one begins.
*
Over the next three days, Mom and I talked several times on the phone.
The main theme of these talks was the fact that we didn't feel guilty about what we had done.
"Harry, I feel so young, so alive, so free, freer than I've felt in years. I never imagined that a young, virile guy your age would even want to hug and kiss and touch a fat, old woman like me. I've never gotten so hot and wet so quickly in my life. My nipples never felt bigger and harder. You made me cum bigger, harder, more often than I've ever done. Harry, you woke me up sexually like never before."
"Maybe it's the incest thing, Harry, the fact that mom and son should never do what we did, but damn it, it was the best sex of my life. As soon as the ache goes away in my back, legs and pussy, I want to see if I'm still attractive to you and not just a one-time thing."
"I love you, Mom, with all my heart and soul. I don't feel the least bit guilty about what we've done. I know Dad treated you like shit, that he cheated on you more times than you can count. He ignored you physically and sexually, and you didn't deserve that."
"I promise you, Mom, never to hurt you in the ways Dad did. I'll be there for you, any time, any where, any time you want. I'll give you what you want, Mom, just the way you like it."
"When I get over this soreness, Harry, I just want to do what we did the other night, nothing wild or crazy, nothing weird. I want, no, I need, Harry, you to hold me, kiss me, touch me and play with me like a man should do for a woman. I want that naughtiness of incest to turn me into a hot, horny woman who will fuck her own son without a second thought. Harry, one night with you has me spoiled already. I want you, Harry."
And when the soreness passed, Mom invited me over for dinner and to spend time with the kids. I knew by the way Mom looked at me from the time I walked into the house that she had plans for me and her later.
Mom didn't look any different, she didn't dress any different. It's just that every time she saw me look at her, she lowered her eyes, looking at the floor, acting shy, flirty.
At the dinner table we sat side by side, and her knee would press against mine every now and then: her hand would brush against mine and I would feel a rush of arousal. As we cleaned up the kitchen after the meal, her body would "accidentally" press against me and I saw the blush in her cheeks.
While I sat in the den with the kids talking, laughing, watching TV, Mom sat across from me in her favorite chair. Her knees no longer pressed tightly against each other, now slightly separated, and when she thought I was looking, her knees parted a little more, coyly giving her son a peek up under the hem of her housedress, up between her legs, a look at her thighs a son shouldn't see. But she did want me to look, to see her as more than a mom, but as a woman who had wants and needs and wanted me, her son, to fill them.
As the kids gathered up their stuff and headed upstairs to bed, Mom picked up the newspaper, opened it and started to read the paper. As the kids went upstairs, Mom rustled the paper to get my attention, then slowly made a move to cross her legs. It was a slow process for her, giving me, her son, an opportunity to look way up under the hem of her housedress, way up the length of her stocky thighs, all the way up to the flash of her tightly packed panty crotch before she finished the move. Even after she finished the move, I could see a good deal of her thighs. She sat like that for several minutes, acting like she was reading the paper, showing me her forbidden skin, until it grew quiet upstairs.
She then put the paper down, slowly uncrossed he legs, then got up and walked across the room to the kitchen doorway. She stood there in the doorway and shyly looked over her shoulder at me. When she saw me begin to get up, Mom walked further into the dimly lit kitchen.
I followed her into the kitchen, saw her standing in the middle of the room, her eyes diverted to the floor. I turned off the last light in the kitchen and walked up to her. I took her hands in mine and felt the electricity in the room.
I leaned down and kissed her lightly on the side of the neck. Mom jumped, aroused by my touch.
"I love you, Mom, like a man loves a woman." I kissed her neck again, then her cheek.
Mom turned her head and we kissed lightly on the lips several times.
"This is so very, very wrong, Harry, but I can't deny the feelings surging through my entire body this moment. I ache for your touch, your kiss, the feel of your body against mine."
I left go of her hands and now held her by the hips. Her arms found my shoulder and the back of my head and she pulled me to her for a lover's kiss, a long, slow, deep intimate kiss between a man and a woman, the forbidden kiss of a mother and son. The moment was extremely erotic as Mom's full-figured body pressed against my muscular young body. I felt her large, hard nipples against my chest, even through her bra and dress, her rounded stomach, her puffy pubic mound pressed tightly against my steely erection.
