Jennifer had left me a month ago now, and I did nothing but stay in bed all day with the shades drawn. My mother would bring trays of food to my bed and return and pick them up uneaten. I don't know how much weight I had lost. I didn't even care.
When Mom would try to talk to me about it, I would just roll over and face the wall. So I guess she felt like she had no other choice, if I were ever going to snap out of it. She did what she did and she brought me back to life.
A morning like any other, a single knock on the door and she opened it. I peeked out of the pillows with one eye, expecting to see her with a tray of breakfast, just toast and yogurt maybe, since she had long given up on me eating a big meal. But it was just her. She was wearing a bathrobe, which was unusual, but not that strange. She sat on the side of the bed, which was typical, and she reached out to stroke my hair as she always did.
But this time, before I knew it, her hand slipped behind my head and lifted it up, as her other hand pulled apart her robe and exposed one of her breasts. She didn't say a word, and I was too shocked to fight it, as she placed my mouth on her nipple and then held me there with both hands.
My lips against her warm and soft nipple, my face pillowed into her breast, my lips opened just a little and I took her nipple into my mouth. She began to rock me, and I began to cry.
I sucked her as I cried. There was no milk of course, but something so deep and primal in me broke me down, in my complete helplessness, and I was undone.
I began moving my jaw and sucking from her as if she were feeding me. My tongue reached out and lapped at her nipple. I opened wider and took in her entire areola, sucking it into my mouth, salivating and swallowing. I lifted my hands from underneath the covers and placed them around her breast, lifting it and holding it out so I could suck her in more deeply.
Somewhere in the midst of it all, I don't know how many minutes later, I realized I wasn't crying any more.
She had not moved through all of this, except to soften her hold on my head once I had latched on, which allowed her to run her hands through my hair as I nursed on her.
I didn't want this to end. And I was grateful that she seemed willing to let me suck her as long as I found comfort in it. But I was as weak as a kitten. Just leaning forward and sitting up, just the energy I put into nursing, was tapping me out. I finally released her nipple and laid back, and she let me.
She pulled her breast back into her robe, leaned over and kissed me on my forehead, and stood up and left the room, keeping the door open. Moments later she brought in a tray. Toast and yogurt. And I ate it.
She left me alone the rest of the day. And I started to think about simple things I hadn't thought about in a while. When was the last time I brushed my teeth? I really need a shower. I should shave off this beard. It was all too much to do in my weakened condition, but just the thinking about it was me coming back to life.
She brought me another tray in the evening. A protein drink and a cookie. She was fully dressed, but she did lean over and kiss me on the forehead. I so wanted to nurse from her again, but I assumed it was a one time thing, and while I was a little disappointed, I was grateful for all she had done.
When she came into my room the next morning, she didn't knock. I had both eyes open. She was wearing her robe. I was so excited to see her my heart started racing. She walked over to the blinds and opened them, and late morning sun streamed into the room.
She came back to her place on my bed and opened her robe, exposing the other breast this time. I suppose the first one was rather sore after yesterday. And then she reached out and stroked my hair, but she didn't force my head up. She made me do it myself, and I did, eagerly.
I took her breast in both hands and greedily took her nipple into my mouth, sucking in the larger part of the end of her breast as well, like I did before. I did not cry this time, though I had plenty of grief still in me. I simply sighed. And I heard her sigh too.
I worked her breast more vigorously this time, kneading it with both hands. And then I caught myself doing a bit more than nursing, as I flicked her nipple with my tongue.
"Oh shit," I thought, as I had done it without thinking. I was afraid I had crossed a line and broken a spell. But she held perfectly still, and continued to give her breast to my hands and mouth.
So I flicked it again. On purpose this time. And in response, I sensed just the tiniest little noise from the back of her throat. A grunt almost. "ughh."
Then I went too far. I squeezed her breast more tightly and flicked my tongue back and forth over her nipple.
"Ughh, ughh, no, ughh, no, no..." she pulled away from me and looked frightened at what was happening. She wrapped her robe around herself and dashed out of the room.
I felt horrible, crushed, and embarrassed. But selfishly, all I could think about were those little grunts, and my desire to hear more of them.
Maybe no breakfast for me after that, but I had to do something. So I peeled myself out of bed and headed for the bathroom to take a long overdue shower.
The hot water felt amazing, and energizing. I soaped and scrubbed and stretched my back and arms. When I washed my groin my dick responded. I hadn't jacked off in over a month, and hadn't had sex for another couple of months before that. But I didn't want to think about that. I would not stand in the shower and cry. I was thinking about sucking on my mother's nipples. And I got hard.
I didn't want to jerk off in the shower, so I decided to wait until I was stronger. But I stayed under the stream of water for so long that I felt the hot water starting to run out. I got out and dried off, then got a glimpse of myself naked in the mirror. I was skin and bones. I was horrified at how closely I had come to wasting away. If my mom had not intervened, I might have let myself do just that.
But Mom had freaked out. I let it turn sexual and she had run. I needed to do something to make it right. And I knew the best thing I could do is stay out of that bed, and return to the land of the living.
I brushed my teeth, getting my mouth as fresh as my body. I would have shaved, but I would have to wait for more warm water. So I trimmed up my beard a bit, good enough for now. And I went back to my room and put on some sweat pants and a t-shirt and went downstairs.
She was putting a dish in the dishwasher and froze when she saw me up and dressed. She stood up straight and put her hand over her mouth and started to cry. I went to her, and she put her head on my shoulder, careful not to put too much of her weight on me.
"How do you feel?" she dared ask.
I shuffled over and sat down on a stool. "I'm hungry."
And she started crying again.
She had made some chicken soup, and put it in the microwave for me. That and some crackers was the best meal of my life. I felt energy flowing back into me with every spoonful. She just sat and watched me eat.
When I finished, I told her I had wanted to shave but used up all the hot water in the shower boiling the grime off myself. But I was too tired to go back upstairs and finish the job.
"Wait here," she smiled and said. She turned on the hot water in the sink and went upstairs.
She came back down with my razor and can of shaving cream and a towel.
"I need a mirror," I said.
She smiled again, "No you don't."
She sat across from me and began shaving me. It was the most intimate thing I can remember her ever doing for me. Well, except for feeding me her breast of course.
When she finished, she suggested I go watch some TV while she changed my sheets. Clean sheets sounded wonderful.
I hadn't looked at my phone in the last month, and didn't want to do it now. It was too risky at this point to see who was asking me what about the breakup and where I had disappeared to. So I put on a game show and fell into that until she came back into the room.
"Mom, I need to apolog..."
"No, you don't. There's nothing for us to talk about."
I thought maybe she was just too embarrassed.
"Mom, thank you. I mean, for everything."
"Don't make me cry again. I'm just glad to have you back. You mean the world to me."
The rest of the day was uneventful. I ate a little more and she hovered a bit. When I finally crawled into those fresh sheets that evening, I knew I would survive. And I slept through the night.
The next morning, I wasn't sure what to expect. I figured I would get up and get dressed and meet Mom in the kitchen for breakfast. I thought I might be able to hold down and egg or two. But while I was still planning my morning, Mom came into my room. She didn't knock. She sat on the bed. I couldn't believe it, but she was wearing her bathrobe.
This time she just sat there. She couldn't, or wouldn't make the first move. But she was there. And I knew that she would give me whatever I needed. I wanted to give her what she needed too.
I reached out and loosened the belt of her robe. I exposed both breasts. They were beautiful. I sat up in the bed. I cupped them both with my hands. I bent forward and kissed one nipple and then the other. I went back to the first one and took it in my mouth and I flicked it with my tongue, and I felt it stiffen. I switched to the other one and it stiffened too. And then I heard it, that little grunt in the back of her throat, "ughh".
With every flick now, I heard it, "ughh". I was summoning it on demand. "ughh, ughh, ughh, ughh..."
I switched nipples again, and when I did, I pinched the other one, still warm and moist from my mouth. As soon as I pinched it, I held it and I pulled it, and the noise came out of her throat and into her mouth, "Ohh, ohh, ohh."
I took my mouth off her breast and took both nipples in my hands so I could look in her eyes when I said, "Say 'ohh', Mom. And say 'yes'.
Her mouth was open and she looked me in my eyes. "ohh, ohh, yess, yess, yeah, ohh, ohh" as I pulled and squeezed her nipples.
