1
The local weather app must have been broken. It was nearly 6PM that Tuesday evening in mid-September and apparently it was ninety degrees Fahrenheit. Bullshit, thought Karen. Her car was like a furnace inside. She drove home with her jaw hung slack while the thick humidity clung to the roof of her mouth like steam in a sauna!
And the rest of the world hadn't even made it to Hump Day before the roads had become a seething concrete death trap for the inhuman mechanical herds, stampeding home without care or common sense. Driving in that heat played on her nerve, having to brave roads belonging to aggressive alpha males who'd been in the sun for too long.
She was so damned tired. It was hard to believe that the holidays had passed. She was in desperate need of a cool shower, some real coffee and a well-deserved lie down. It didn't come soon enough.
Karen got home at half six, well done and ready to stick a fork in herself. Restricted by her tight business skirt, she limped in small barefooted steps to the front door with her handbag over her shoulder and her shoes in hand.
As she opened up and crossed the threshold, the heat of the day seemed to dissipate some, only radiating then from her tired, aching body, and from the kitchen across the hall where the comforting if not excessive aroma of home cooking almost finished her off.
Shuffling like a zombie now as her feet relaxed against the cool laminate flooring, she tottered into the kitchen – her shoulders slumped – and met Michael with a look of exhaustion.
'Jesus Christ, mom,' he reacted sympathetically. She attempted a sarcastic smile which soon turned into a tired and miserable pout. 'Bad day?'
'Meh,' she said and blinked slowly, hoping that the feeling would soon pass. 'Hot-ass day, long-ass drive, stupid-ass drivers and stress, but that,' she said and breathed deeply through her nostrils, 'smells divine...'
Michael knew how to roast a bird, though today he might just as well have thrown it on the roof for a couple hours. She said nothing about being in no mood for hot food, or to eat at all. So long as he ate, that's all she cared about; and her coffee; and her shower; and her bed.
And as though on cue, he handed her a cup, just the way she liked it – sweet enough already and coloured like the people of the country it came from. Just the right temperature, as it had waited five or ten minutes for her arrival, she sipped at it and afforded herself a little jolt of clarity. That was when she noticed something about her son.
'How do you feel today, honey?'
'Okay I guess,' he said. It was written in his words and in the way he offered them. He wasn't being entirely truthful. 'I'm just sick of making a deal out of some things. I'm just getting on with it.'
Karen didn't know if she trusted him to get on with it, though, at least not alone. Ever since their relationship had changed, he'd used that as an excuse to cut ties with many of his friends, rather than to fight for them. That wasn't healthy, but she had trusted him then. Hopefully regretting that might force him to change his mind soon; because if not...
'We can talk about that,' she offered.
'Not right now,' he insisted. 'First get off your feet and relax and we'll eat in a bit.' And then he did smile. It was the smile of an older man, not one of a late teenager. She smiled back coyly, but furthermore gratefully, and returned to her coffee.
'I'm taking this upstairs. I need a shower and a lie down,' she said, letting her hair down and unwinding her slender long neck.
And the shower, barely warmer than tepid, was heavenly – so relieving to her exquisitely hot and tender flesh – that she stood beneath the raging torrent with her eyes closed for so long that she almost fell asleep on her feet.
She came crashing back to reality so abruptly, taken by surprise as from out of nowhere her son's arms slipped around her waist from behind and drew her back into his own nakedness. She let out a startled gasp, felt her knees jerk unsteadily, and would have fell were he not holding her so firmly.
'What do you think you're doing, young man of mine?' she urged.
'Helping you to relax?' he replied devilishly. It was but a half-certainty. After all since when did she question his motives, lately?
'Oh you're just going to let the kitchen burn down?'
'At least we won't catch fire under the shower...'
'Oh for God's sake,' she scolded. 'Michael, I'm too tired. I'm old. I can't keep up with you anymore.'
'Mom I just want you to feel good,' he assured, pressing his hips up against her butt, slippery, hot and so hard. Despite her vocal reluctance, Karen couldn't help being turned on.
'Do you know what would make me feel really good right now?' she asked with a twinkle in her dark eyes.
2
They were still soaking wet, the both of them, partly from their shower and then partly from the fresh perspiration caused by the heat between them. Michael revelled at the sight of his mother, thighs widely parted as she lay at the edge of his bed, her dark hair, wringed, damp and curling around her bare shoulders.
He lapped and licked relentlessly at her blooming pink pussy, killing her with the roughness of his cool tongue, and every time she came near to coming from within, he denied her and engaged her throbbing clit instead.
'I'm going to have to shower again, you... randy little sod,' she cooed, fighting not to clamp her thighs tight shut over his head and suffocate him.
'Oh mom I love it when you speak European,' Michael teased and then lovingly nuzzled his mouth and nose right in between her sticky labia where he resumed tongue fucking her until she begged for him to fuck her properly, but he was having none of it.
Two fingers eased their way into her, fingertips facing upward, and he began to curl them in a teasing "come hither" motion, once again sucking at her clit and enjoying the taste of her. In and out he slid as her hot pussy moulded itself around him at the knuckles and he was so tempted to replace them with his stiff member but relented. Soon her pelvis was bucking to his rhythm and her hips were swaying seductively.
'Ohhhh,' she sighed.
'I love it when you do that,' he admired.
'Do what?' she asked, now thrusting forth to meet his movements.
'The looks you give. The sounds you make!'
