*****Author's Note*****
This is the second part of my story between mother/son love. You will be confused if you attempt to begin this story from the second part. So go back and check out the first if you haven't already. This next part will reveal more about the mothers thought process. I can assure you that this is the way my real mother acts. It may seem strange, but I am used to it.
As always, drop that feedback on me at anytime. I enjoy reading the tips you guys/gals leave and will apply them where possible. I will start this part with the last line of the first part so that there is no confusion on where it's starting. Alright then, enjoy the second part of my story. Peace!
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"Uhm, we need to talk," my mother whimpered in a voice so soft that I could barely hear it.
My stomach began to turn instantly as I knew exactly what she was going to be talking about. I felt some relief at the fact that she was the one who made all the moves last night, so if anything, she couldn't blow up at me.
"Oh... sure, we can talk, but can we eat first because I am starving?" I replied.
It was a load of crap though. My stomach knotted up instantly when she pulled away from me and my appetite disappeared with it. I was wracking my brain trying to think of all the scenarios that could happen. Out of all the processes that I ran through, only one of them ended well. This did wonders for my stomach as it was now in my throat. Even though her robe was open and she had on a new cyan colored bra and panties set, I had no interest in looking at her body at the moment.
I turned around and made my way to the dining room table. I pulled out a chair and sat down trying to look as chill as possible. I didn't want to let out the fact that I was nervous as hell, so I just looked at the fake plant we had in the corner as if it was very interesting. She came in the dining room with two plates and placed them on the table. She then went back in and grabbed two cups of orange juice. The entire time that she came in and out of the dining room, she never made eye contact with me. I sensed that she was even more nervous than me which made me feel a bit better.
She sat down at the table the same way that I did when I was afraid to face her. She was turned sideways facing away from me. This was completely uncharacteristic for my mother. She is very confrontational by nature and will not hesitate to make eye contact with you even while discussing embarrassing things. Yet here she sat, avoiding my gaze the entire time. I grabbed a fork and started eating so that I could have something to do. I had lost my appetite, but I knew I needed to fill myself up. For the next five or so minutes, the only sound in the air was a metal fork hitting a glass plate every so often. Once I was nearly done with my food, I called out to my mother to get her attention.
"Mom, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" I asked while trying not to suffocate from my stomach being lodged in my throat.
Startled by my voice, she jumped a little. She was so deep in thought that she had tuned out of reality for a moment. Her plate still had a lot of food on it as she was eating very slowly. Maybe she had lost her appetite as well. It was becoming clear that my nervousness didn't even compare to hers.
After a minute or two of gathering herself, she slurred, "I want to talk about last night."
She was speaking so low that I couldn't understand a word she was saying. I could have told her to speak up, but that would've put her on the spot. Instead, I got up and pulled up my chair in front of her so that I would be able to hear her better. Once I sat down in front of her, I saw her closing her robe tighter. This was not a good sign. It means that she was switching back to her motherly self and being cautious around me. Even though she sat a few feet in front of me, I could feel an invisible barrier between us.
Feeling sad but anxious to know, I asked, "Can you say that again?"
Still avoiding my gaze, she looked into her lap and whispered, "I want to talk about last night."
Playing the fool, I responded, "Oh about that comedy movie? It was hilarious. The reviews were right."
Realizing that I am avoiding the real topic purposefully, she looked up at me for the first time. I noticed immediately that the white of her eyes had a reddish tint to them. This was clear evidence that she had been crying. I made a mistake and showed a concerned look from the revelation of her eyes and she dropped her gaze to her lap again. We sat in silence for about thirty seconds before I broke it again.
"Was it not about the comedy movie? Maybe it was that action movie? Sorry, I don't remember much about the action movie. I "slept" through it," I said.
She looked up at me again, but this time she had a slight smirk. This gave me confidence that my jokes were well received. She then put her head back down and spoke again.
"I want to talk about you "sleeping" through the action movie," she murmured in a low monotone voice.
Not allowing her to jump to the forbidden topic, I pulled out another one. "I slept because I was stuffed from ice cream that resembled a dirt road in the countryside."
She burst out laughing.
It felt like she was getting back to her normal self, so I said, "There she is."
She made eye contact with a warm smile on her face before saying, "What do you mean?"
"I don't know. Maybe the fact that my mother couldn't look straight ahead for the past ten minutes. Made me think someone swapped her out of here," I joked.
"Oh no, I am the one and only," she giggled.
The tension in the air had lifted and she could now stare at me without issue. I leaned back in my chair and got more comfortable as I waited for her to start off the conversation.
"Thanks for snapping me out of it. I was in a different world for most of the morning," she said.
"What could be on your mind so much that you would sit in a daze all morning?" I spewed, still feigning my ignorance."
"Don't make me say it, you idiot," she chuckled.
This response actually relieved me because this was a typical girl response. My mother's girly side is something that I rarely see. The occasional scream at a random bug and refusing to do hard physical labor is about the most you will get out of her.
"Oh, you mean our little cuddle session?" I asked, choosing to use a lighthearted word rather the real term.
"Yeah, that little cuddle session," She replied. "I think that maybe.. uhm... we possibly...," she stuttered before being cut off my me.
"You think we went too far?" I asked, guessing the ending to her question.
She nodded her head without speaking and looked back into her lap. I am no fool and pretty much predicted exactly what she wanted to say. It was not a hard guess for anyone, so it couldn't catch me off guard.
"I don't think we did," I replied confidently as if nothing was strange about it.
She looked up at me instantly. "What do you mean you don't think we went too far? Do you not understand our relationship?" she asked.
Understanding that the time for jokes had passed, I replied, "Of course I understand our relationship, but I am still fine with what we did."
She looked at me and then jumped like she came to a realization of something. "Obviously you would be fine with this, you are the one who started this mess in the first place," She said in an attempt to scold me.
Feeling like she was placing the blame on me, I responded.
"Wait. Wait. Wait. So you are saying that I am the reason for us doing what we did last night?" I asked slightly raising my voice. "I seem to remember it differently."
"I don't mean last night, I'm talking about when you first decided you wanted to make a move on me," she said while looking straight at me.
"Okay, I'll admit that I was at fault during the first time. We had a little "falling-out" and we moved on. However, you immediately started coming onto me out of nowhere. The second time, I made sure to take the passive side as I didn't want you to flip out on me again. You lead the entire time," I accused.
Her eyes widened from the shock of how honest I was. I figured that since we already messed around, I had no reason to fear speaking my mind. She followed my lead and took her gloves off as well.
"Coming onto you? Yeah, right. What do I gain from coming onto a little boy. I was simply playing with my son. Since when did that become a crime?," she challenged.
"Playing with your son is not a crime, but seducing him by feeling on him is a bit questionable if I may say so," I replied.
"So you just going to act like you weren't staring at my body when we were running around the coffee table? Did you think that you were being sneaky? You were staring me down the whole day as a matter of fact. I am not some inexperienced little girl you met at uni. I know all the tricks in the book as I have seen them before," she said.
I blushed a little by her revelation of what I had done. I thought I was being extra careful during those times, but she was on me from the start. Wanting to put her on the spot also, I aired out my knowledge.
"Okay, well let's talk about your sudden wardrobe change. I've been watching you all my life and you have never wore a robe like the one you have on now, or skin-tight clothes like the set you wore yesterday. If I didn't know any better, I would say you changed so that I could have a better look?" I asserted.
It was now time for her cheeks to blush as she looked at the same fake plant that I was looking at earlier. My heart sank at that reaction because it implied that I was correct. My own mother actually wanted me to look at her? The only question that remained now is why would she.
"I...I never changed my uhm... my style of outfits. I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, clearly nervous after having her laundry aired out.
