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I don’t have much time left. Having already outlasted their prognostications, my doctors aren’t sure if I’ll be around for weeks or hours. I’m hoping for the latter – the pain is pretty bad now. I burn. Everything burns. Every fiber, every sinew is a white-hot wire, glowing bright as a magnesium flare, all consuming and insatiable.

It’s funny how pain purifies, clarifies and distills. When I’m not grinding my teeth in agony, I think about everything that has come before. Some might say that what I feel now is a just reward for the life I’ve lived, but I have no guilt. None whatsoever. I know with certainty that I have no regrets, just as I know my pain is a doorway. I know that soon, I’ll step beyond that threshold and find escape.

As I have endured these past weeks, most of my waking hours have been spent reflecting on the arc of my life and the extraordinary woman who defined most of it. When our children grew up, they came to know the bare bones of things, but we never really discussed details. Before I’m claimed, I want to tell our story as best I can.

Right now, the Roxanol is my friend, keeping the beast at bay long enough to collect my thoughts, but I find that the lassitude that comes with the relief makes it hard to concentrate. Things seem to oscillate between the warm fuzziness of cotton wool and the knifepoint awareness of the slightest sensation that comes with exquisite distress. I have difficulty sometimes finding the thread of my narrative, and memories sometimes become encumbered with newly recalled details that somehow seem more significant now than they ever were before. One of my daughters is at my bedside, guiding and prompting me as I attempt to recall everything. Of our four children, she is closest to me and knows perhaps the most. Hopefully her focus will allow a coherent story to emerge…


My name is Rick and this is the story of my mother and myself, a tale of a life and love that almost didn’t happen.

I was born about 6 months after my mom’s 17th birthday, in an all too common circumstance; a trusting young girl abandoned after deceitful representations of affection and the usual unfulfilled, sweet promises of an older, manipulative guy. I never knew my father, which was no loss. After my mom became pregnant, he disappeared into the merchant marine. We never heard from him again.

I was most fortunate growing up – I had a very good childhood, in large measure due to my maternal grandparents. Unusual for their generation, they never judged their daughter for her mistake, only insisting that she carry her pregnancy to term, then to decide if I would be given up for adoption. Perhaps it was the fact that Mom was a late, unplanned child, born when my grandparents were entering their mid-forties, which allowed them to view the situation she found herself in with some equanimity and understanding. In any event, I was blessed to be a welcome and well-loved, if unexpected addition to the family Lindermann.

While I was growing up, Mom always said that keeping me was the single best decision she ever made. She had drifted through her middle teenage years, a smart, pretty girl who was never much interested in anything beyond gossiping with her girlfriends, shyly interested in various boys and going to parties. She had done well in school, but it did not hold her interest, with all of the other pleasant distractions that were accessible to a well-liked, attractive and popular young lady.

In becoming a mother though, she found herself. My entry into her life lit the proverbial fire under her feet, and with the support of Nana and Gramps, she finished high school with an academic flourish, home schooling for her senior year. At this time, Gramps received a big job promotion, which required him to move from our central Ohio home to the metro New York area. Mom elected to come along. With Nana doing most of the day care, Mom enrolled in a community college for a year and excelled academically – She always said that love for a child was probably the strongest motivator a woman could have. Mom channeled her protective maternal instincts into scholastic accomplishments and was rewarded when she was able to transfer the following year into a nearby, very prestigious 4 year college.

One of my earliest childhood memories was Mom’s graduation. I still recall the infinite, brilliant blue skies and enveloping warmth of that early June day, as I was perched on Gramps’ shoulders, watching mom walk across the podium for her degree. I also clearly remember the storm which subsequently followed at home, when Mom announced that she was done with school and getting a job. Nana was beside herself with confusion and frustration. How could Mom throw away her life after having done so well getting herself back on track? Graduate school beckoned, or possibly Law, or Medicine!

“Ricky needs me now, more than ever,” she had replied firmly, “and the two of you have sacrificed enough over the past 5 years for me. It’s time that I do what I should for my son.”

The arguments went on for days, but in the end, a compromise was reached. Through his connections, Gramps would secure mom a part time job at his company and Mom would go to law school at night. We would continue to live with Gramps and Nana.

This defined our lives together until I was 10 years old. Up at 6 am for school, a kiss and hug from Mom and then again at 3:30, when she would be waiting for me. Three precious hours together, doing homework and all the other things we needed to accomplish. Then it was dinner for the four of us, usually prepared by Nana and Mom. She would then head out the door for evening classes. I never forgot the sharp regret I would feel when she would give me my hug and kisses, before admonishing me not to be a pain to Gramps and Nana and to be in bed “on time and under budget.” She would then be up late into every night for her own studies, so we could have the weekends free. During that time, I doubt that she got more than 5 hours of sleep a night.

Those weekends were sacred time. Mom and I would go on picnics, visit the zoo, check out the dinosaur fossils at the Museum of Natural History, or sometimes just stay home and watch old movies. Occasionally, Gramps and Nana would join us for an outing, but mostly it was just Mom and I. I think it was during this period that Mom became my best buddy. We could talk about anything and she would answer any question I had honestly and openly, even the embarrassing ones about how I came to be and why I didn’t have a regular daddy. As time went by, Mom made sure to push me (sometimes very much against my wishes) into the wider world.

“You’re always going to be my boy, hotshot, but I’m not going to let you be a Momma’s boy,” she would say, usually ruffling my hair as she spoke. She saw to it that I had my share of good buddies, sleepovers and tree house time, even though it often cut into the limited hours she could spend with me.

Probably with me in mind, Mom still lived with Gramps and Nana, even as I progressed through middle school and high school, so I never lacked for guidance and role models. Gramps got me going in Pop Warner football when I was 8, and I continued that through middle school. Mom rarely missed a game, even though my playing time was limited – I struggled in the lower weight limit divisions, as I was slow to grow compared with some of my friends.

Puberty caught me soon enough, and with that everything changed, beginning the journey that brings us to this narrative. I turned into what Nana would affectionately call “The Composter.” My appetite was insatiable and I think I was personally responsible for a 50% increase in the household food budget. In the space of about three years, I went from a 90 pound, hairless chicken to about 5 foot 10 inches and 150 pounds of wiry, lanky teenager. I continued to grow another 2 inches and filled out some more, reaching my full growth around the time I graduated from high school, at 6 foot even and around 170 pounds.

I imagine now is as good a time as any to describe myself.

I mostly owe my Mom for my facial features. I have high cheekbones, a broad forehead and hair that is long and straight. I generally keep it in a short ponytail. I’ve worn it this way since I was fifteen, Mom laughingly calling it my “surfer samurai” look. The color is somewhere in between my Mom’s strawberry blonde and a brunette color, darker when it’s wet. My eyes are green. I’d have to say I’m proud of my physique. I’ve always liked a good, sweat-busting workout, as well as swimming and running, which I have continued all through high school and college. No one is ever going to confuse me with a body builder, but I have just a hint of a six-pack and take pride in maintaining it.

I guess there also needs to be the obligatory description of the equipment. Well, let’s just say I’m favored with something that’s a little bit better than average, around 7 1/2 or 8 inches long and around four or five inches of girth. The supporting cast is proportionate. I’ve had more than one girl say I’m fairly easy on the eyes, but I tend not to pay a lot of attention to that. When all is said and done, I’m a rather shy, serious and somewhat introspective person. I really take after my mom that way.

Ah yes, my mother – Jennifer Marie. I suppose most of you have been putting up with our family biography to get to this point. If you are expecting moist tales of nymphomaniac, six-foot Amazonian goddesses with double D everything, you may as well pack it in now and move on to one of those one-page stroke fairy tales, because that’s just not how it is.

To me, my mom is beautiful. Period. How and why should be apparent as you read this account of our lives. Her face is striking, with high, sculpted, almost Asiatic cheekbones, an aquiline, slightly prominent nose and piercing blue eyes. She wears her straight, strawberry blonde hair in a layered, elegant shoulder length cut with long bangs. Somehow, she makes it look both sophisticated and cute at the same time. Her lips are fairly full, with a strong chin beneath them. Her jaw line is just somewhat square, but delicate enough to offset the angularity of that part of her face. If you can believe it, she would tell you her best feature is her teeth, which are large and even, but not prominent, straight and very white. She doesn’t smile a lot, but when she does flash her pearly whites, it lights up the room. I’ve been known to do and say some pretty goofy stuff just to hear her wonderful laugh and see that gorgeous smile.

I’m constantly surprised by the depth and breadth of her interests. She loves cinema, particularly film noir, French New Wave and classic Hollywood. Her taste in music is amazingly eclectic. There has always been something playing in the house for as long as I can remember. Most of the time, I hear her listening to Bach, The Beatles, Coltrane and Miles, but I’ve also seen her boogie in the kitchen to AC/DC and Led Zeppelin, as well as singing along to old Patsy Cline songs. If she put her mind to it, I bet she could do a pretty fair karaoke version of “I Fall to Pieces.”

One of the most endearing things about her is her secret guilty pleasure – The Three Stooges. She’d be terribly embarrassed to admit it, but I can always crack her up with my imitation of Curly. I consistently get a smile from her when she asks me to do a chore and I reply “Soitenly!”

Another favorite was when she would help me with concepts I didn’t understand in my homework. I’d just say, “I’m trying to think, but nothin’ happens.”

I can still remember the first time I tried that one out on her. We were doing some algebra problems and she was drinking a mug of decaf as we sat at the kitchen table. She was so pissed when the coffee came out her nose and got all over my homework, but we couldn’t stop laughing for about ten minutes after that. We’d quiet down for a few seconds, but then look at each other and break out into gales of laughter all over again. Gramps and Nana were convinced we had completely lost our marbles. I had to copy my entire assignment over again, but it was so worth it.

As an objective frame of reference, think a little of Marg Helgenberger, but a bit plainer, rounder and less angular, with an extra 10 or 15 pounds. That extra weight is pretty well distributed, in my very subjective opinion. It is not too concentrated in one particular area, but certainly enhancing some features, like her breasts and hips, which are noticeably fuller and rounder than our Helgenberger archetype.

Understand, Mom is and always was beautiful in my eyes. She’s not a runway model, some airbrushed and Photoshopped stereotype. She’s a real lady, with a real world figure. Her hips are full, lush and smooth. Her belly has that wonderfully sensuous, slight swelling of a mature woman. All of the lines, curves, swellings and creases fit together with what I consider to be perfect harmony.

I absolutely adore those perfect, soft, womanly curves. She’s my Venus de Milo.

I lusted after Mom before I loved her. I suppose that’s not so unusual for a thirteen year old who was just beginning to make wood, but I think it was different for me in one big respect.

The first time I ever had an orgasm, it was because of Mom.

It happened one October afternoon, just before a football game. We were running late because Gramps and Nana were unavailable to drive me at the last minute. Mom had just gotten back from work and wanted to change out of her city clothes before we left. She was tired and moving a bit slowly. I was impatient to get going – it was to be my very first time as a starter.

After pacing downstairs for several eternal minutes (teenagers are well known to inhabit an alternate dimension where different rules on the passage of time apply), I called out crankily, “C’mon, Mom, we’re gonna be late!”

Her voice floated down to me, patient as always, “Just a couple minutes, sweetie – I’m almost ready.”

I don’t know what possessed me at that moment, but Mom’s answer wasn’t satisfactory. I clomped up the stairs and barged into her bedroom.

Her bare back was turned to me and she was only wearing a pair of plain, high-waisted, pale blue cotton panties. Her skin was alabaster, without a single blemish and her rounded hips were simple perfection, smoothly contoured and flawlessly curved. The elastic leg holes of her briefs were snugged right into the crease where the back of her thighs met her buttocks, seeming almost to lift and display her bottom.

All of this registered in the split second before she began to turn in surprise, a vision tattooed into my memory with a hot needle, dipped in the darkest of inks. As she turned, reflexively bringing her arms up to cover her breasts, one hand lagged by the slightest of moments and I saw her nipple.

It was a rosy peak, rising out from the flesh of her breast not like a nubbin, but more of a pink, Hershey’s kiss, ever so slightly larger. To my eye it was as her back and behind, free of any imperfection.

By the time she finished turning, my mouth hung open and I was blushing, but probably not as much as I should have, because a lot of blood was rushing somewhere else very, very quickly.

It was a good thing that my jersey wasn’t tucked in at the time, as I was suddenly sporting, the strongest, most tingly woodie ever.

Eyes flashing, Mom held her arms tight against herself, not realizing how the pressure of her self-embrace pushed her breasts upwards, inadvertently emphasizing her cleavage.

My face got redder, my dick got harder and my jaw dropped further. Thank God my tongue wasn’t hanging out, but wasn’t of any use to me anyway.

“Jesus H. Christ, Ricky!” she shouted in anger. “Don’t you ever knock? How dare you barge into my room like this!”

“Uh, uhmmm, yeah, uhm, sor..sorry, uhm, Mom,” I mumbled inanely.

“Standing here staring at me is NOT going to speed this process up, young man,” she said acidly. “Now, git!”

I skedaddled in infamy, still blushing and tumescent, but something made me pause as I closed her door behind me. Looking back through the crack, I saw Mom putting her bra on.

Her back was again turned to me, the cups of the utilitarian, white bra dangling around the back of her waist as she engaged the hooks. Spinning the garment around, she leaned forward slightly, thrusting her arms through the shoulder straps. I could see the wonderful bulge of the sides of her breasts as she brought her arms up and the bra began to slide into place.

God, I was so hard, I literally didn’t know what to do with myself. The tingling I felt in my groin was beyond any sensation I had ever experienced. The pleasure that came with that tingling was combined with the anxiety and enormous guilt that came along with knowing I shouldn’t be spying on my own mother.

While I squirmed with barely understood arousal, Mom finished putting her bra on. As an incredible tightness built within my groin, Mom reached up to cup her breasts, adjusting the cups of her bra.

Suddenly, without even touching myself, unbelievable, incomprehensible pleasure burst in my head and groin simultaneously, totally stunning me. Without warning, my cock was twitching and squirming and I felt an incredible tightness in my balls as my ass clenched. Suddenly my pants were wet and I was mortified, staggering back from the door, tripping over my own feet to land sprawling in the hallway. I scrambled to the bathroom in total embarrassment, certain I had peed myself.

Locking the door, I peeled my pants and tighty-whiteys down to inspect the calamity. My dick was covered with whitish slime that smelled funny, a little bit like bleach. The same fluid saturated the front of my underwear. Reaching for a washcloth, I dampened it under the tap and started to clean up.

Zowie! I could barely touch the head of my cock! Man, it was sensitive! The lightest pressure was almost unbearable, but at the same time, incredibly pleasurable. As I cleaned myself, my erection returned with a vengeance, nearly as hard as when I was looking at Mom.

I was jerked back to reality by the slap of Mom’s palm on the door.

“I’m ready now, Mr. Impatient,” she snapped. “You better get out here pronto, or I’m not going to take you. Let’s get this show on the road!”

Quickly stuffing myself back under cover, I washed my hands and stepped out into the hallway. Mom was right by the door, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot, still clearly pissed about my indiscretion.

“Let’s go,” she said curtly.

Our ride to the practice field was made in tense silence. I knew I was in trouble and Mom was letting me stew in my juices for a while before she lowered the boom.

When we arrived at the parking lot, she put her arm across my chest, checking me before I could escape the car. Reaching out to me with her other hand, she cupped my chin and forcibly turned my head to face her.

She spoke quietly, but firmly, in measured tones, her calm demeanor actually emphasizing her displeasure.

“Ricky, are you a little boy or a young man?”

“I’m not a little boy,” I replied somewhat sullenly.

“No you’re not. Young men don’t behave like little kids, now do they?”

“No, Mom.”

“As a young man, you have certain responsibilities. The most important of these is to always treat your Mom with courtesy and respect. That is, of course, assuming you want me to treat you like the young man you are becoming. Do you want me to respect you, to treat you fairly?”

“Yes, Mom,” I sighed, rolling my eyes.

“Well then,” she continued, pointedly ignoring my attitude, “That includes always knocking before you come into my room from now on. You will respect my privacy,” she declared, steel in her voice. “If it happens again, you’ll be grounded for a month and no allowance, no Nintendo and no movies. Are we clear?”

Suitably chastised, I nodded my acquiescence.

“I’m sorry I was rude Mom. I won’t do it again.”

“Apology accepted,” she acknowledged, her demeanor returning to normal.

“Mom, you’re not going to leave, are you?” I asked anxiously.

Smile returning, she squeezed my hand reassuringly. “I wouldn’t miss my son’s first start for anything. I was planning to follow Mom and Dad here anyway, until our plans changed.”

“Hop on out and get ready. I’ll find a parking space and see you shortly.”

Later, I saw Mom in the stands, hooting and hollering along with all the other parents. When the second half began, I saw that Gramps and Nana had made it as well. It felt really good to have my whole family rooting for me.

It would have been amazing if I had played a great game, but I didn’t. I did do the next beast thing, though – I didn’t screw up. That was enough for me. When it was all over, I got a slap on the back from Gramps and big hugs from Mom and Nana. We went out for pizza after that, completing what turned out to be one of the most important days of my life.

I never got another chance to see Mom undressed or in her underwear again after that day. I suspect that she had at least some inkling of how my seeing her had affected me and was very careful not to give me the opportunity for another eyeful.

It didn’t really matter though – the damage had been done and I was changed for good.

At that point, I was totally focused on trying to get another glimpse of Mom. Any opportunity was to be seized upon, but Mom was very careful since that first wonderful incident. Failing to get any more chances, my emphasis gradually shifted. Of course if you can’t see Mom in the flesh, the next best thing is those wonderful garments that cover her special parts.

I remember the first time I snuck into her room and rummaged in her underwear drawer. Even though she was long gone for a day’s work in the City, I was so nervous, I shook like a baby’s rattle. Running my trembling hands over the lacy cups of one of her brassieres, I became hard as a brick. Rubbing my fingertips over the shiny smoothness of one of her nylon granny panties, I almost came without touching myself.

When I pulled my shorts down and got my cock out, the moment I slid my glans across the gusset of her briefs, I shot a huge load all over my hands and the panties. I almost passed out from the pleasure and the excitement of doing something so forbidden, so nasty. When I finally came down from orbit, though, I knew I was in trouble. My cum was everywhere, coating my hands, splooged in her panties and dripping on the carpet by her dresser.

I was immediately assailed by terrible guilt. Not only was I a pervert, who whacked off into his own mother’s underwear, I had made a huge, disgusting mess in her bedroom. I was doomed and damned all at one instant. Damned for my sinful behavior and horrible thoughts and doomed because I knew in my heart that I would never be able to stop doing it again and again and again.

Frantically, I rushed to obliterate all traces of my transgression. I cleaned myself up and dashed to the laundry room, rinsing Mom’s undies in the sink and then throwing them in the bottom of the hamper, out of sight and mind. I flew back upstairs with a sponge and some dish soap and feverishly scrubbed my jizz out of the carpet. I dashed back downstairs to put the cleaning stuff away and then sprinted back to Mom’s bathroom, grabbing her hair dryer, which I then used to dry the damp spots on the carpet where I had cleaned my sticky spend out of the shag.

Trembling with anxiety, I bolted to my room, locking the door behind me before I flung myself on the bed. Then I waited, overwhelmed with guilt. I waited for Mom to come home and discover my horrible actions, throwing me out of the house. I waited for Gramps to come home and beat me within an inch of my life. I waited for God to smite me with a thunderbolt, punishing me for my sin.

After about ten or fifteen minutes of waiting for the sky to fall, I realized nothing was going to happen. After thirty minutes, recalling the silky feel of her panties on my dick, I got hard again. Five minutes later, I was back in the laundry room, fishing the still-damp panties from the hamper and retreating to my room for another round of jacking off.

Thus began my relationship with my mother’s underwear. Within two weeks, I knew every article by heart; what size (34C bust, size 7 panties), what location in the drawer and the usual order of use. I never escaped the feelings of guilt and shame when I spunked her panties, but I simply couldn’t help myself.

At first, after I saw Mom that day, I couldn’t get the visions of her breasts and panty-clad ass out of my head. I was constantly sneaking glances at her, hoping for a flash of thigh or a brief peek of her brassiere through the gaps between buttons in her blouses, or, holy of holies, getting a look up her skirt to see her panties. The more I looked, though, the more I noticed everything about her appearance – how she combed her hair, put on lipstick or, rarely, eye shadow, what her sense of style was for her work clothes, what kind of pantyhose she used and also her perfume.

I guess at that point, I was beginning to appreciate her as a whole woman for the first time and I surely loved what I saw. It’s a given that a guy that age spends a majority of the day with thoughts of jutting asses and jiggling breasts running through his head, but I imagined all that and saw so much more in my mother.

Her arms were shapely, with only the slightest hint of softness that comes with her age. Her legs are…well, to me they’re magnificent. Perfectly proportioned for her height, with exquisitely turned calves, they are almost an anachronism, a modern day reincarnation of the great pins of the 50′s movie stars. A comparison to Cyd Charisse would be close to the mark in my mind, but I confess a complete lack of impartiality.

As long as I am admitting to bias, let me describe the miracle of skin and muscle that is her ass. It is, in a word, womanly. Not a bubble butt, not adolescent, nor compact. It is beautifully proportioned to the rest of her anatomy, but is…lusciously full, mobile, superbly pear-shaped, flawlessly smooth and topped by a sensational, very sensuous, flared waistline. Whether encased in denim shorts, tight Capri pants or even plain slacks, it is an absolute vision of promise and an invitation to totally forbidden thoughts.

Just to be clear, I would not walk on hot coals to place my hands upon it. For that privilege, I would wade through waist deep lava while gargling sulfuric acid and razor blades. For a chance to caress it, kiss it and otherwise worship it, I would sell my soul, in an instant.

Yeah, I like my Mom’s derriere just a little.

I think these features are attractive enough when seen as mere components, but it’s how they all work together that makes her beautiful to me. Perhaps because I am used to looking at her every chance I get, I pay more attention, but I think her face is marvelously expressive. Her deep blue eyes can positively dance with mischief, humor and laughter. When she is truly angry with me, a grey coldness creeps in and they dissect my guilty thoughts and actions like scalpels. Fortunately, I have not been on the receiving end of that particular gaze very often. I can recognize at least 8 or 10 different smiles, ranging from “come get your chicken soup” to “come hither right now.” That latter smile is why I’m telling this story, of course.

Mom is an extremely observant and perceptive person. She’s also very cautious and detail-oriented, as well as being a bit of a control freak, but she has to be in her job. She’s the youngest and first female partner at March, Briggs and Dufrense, a moderate sized law firm in the City. She got there by being smarter, nice-tougher and generally harder working than most of the other associates. Once she was hired on, it only took her 4 years to make partner. She specializes in corporate and international law, which is well suited to her careful, meticulous nature. She’s a member of the Bar in New York, New Jersey and unusually, a couple Canadian provinces as well. In addition to loving her, having a crush on her, lusting after her greatly and generally adoring her, I admire her tremendously.

As you can probably tell, I have been hopelessly attached to this woman since forever. Of course, the lens of puberty completely changes the focus and perception of a growing boy, and I was no exception. What was once “When I grow up, I’m going to marry you, Mommy!” at 6 years old becomes furtive trips to the laundry hamper for used panties at 13. Is there anything that can compare to the slight residual warmth, intoxicating scent or taste of the gusset in a freshly discarded pair of panties? Not to a young, hyper stimulated teenager, I would guess.

It was at middle school time when I really began to notice Mom as a woman. My voice was deepening, my bones were aching from my growth spurt and there was hair growing in unexpected places. Equipment that was once single purpose developed very interesting and downright startling new capabilities.

Mom almost certainly knew what was happening before I did, and of course she had taught me all the basics at a much younger age, to satisfy my insatiable curiosity. Nana, Gramps and Mom were all kindly tolerant of my withdrawn surliness and generally antisocial interactions as testosterone overran my synapses, but they kept me on track. Gramps was great a getting me settled into my new role as a real guy and second man of the house. Some of that instruction was real old school stuff, very much nose-to-nose and occasionally resulted in prolonged discomfort when sitting, but we got through it okay and I was the better for it.

Academically, I was a good student in school. I had to really bust my ass to excel in math and science, but with much pain and sweat, still managed to do well in these areas. As you might imagine, when it came to grades, Mom took no prisoners. Somehow, though, she always found the right combination of motivations to carry me through any difficulties. She never used her own considerable accomplishments as a yardstick against my own efforts, I think because she knew I would do that myself. There was an unspoken assumption that, of course, I would give a maximum effort in any subject I studied. She had high expectations, but also seemed to have a sixth sense for what represented my best efforts, and never criticized me when she knew I had done my best on something and had come up a little short. I loved her very much for that.

Towards the end of middle school, Mom was gearing up in her push to becoming a partner at her law firm and I was spending more and more time on homework. Our chances to spend time together seemed to be dwindling to nothing. I think both of us sensed this subconsciously, but for me it showed in a general increased crankiness and more arguments with Mom. After a particularly irrational outburst, which centered around difficulties with my math homework, Mom sat me down and slowly, painfully extracted the truth from me.

“All right, Ricky. What is your major maladjustment here? You can’t tell me that all of this venom you’ve been spewing lately is just from problems with quadratic equations. You’ve been exceptionally rude and ungrateful lately and I want to know why. Are you having problems with someone at school? Is it something to do with girls?”


Girls and sex were a very sensitive topic. I was thinking about them constantly. If I went more than fifteen or twenty minutes without fantasizing about fucking some female, it was a rare event. At the time, I was nursing simultaneous crushes on two different girls in my algebra class and secretly lusting after my French teacher, Mrs. DuPre and the lady next door, Myra Gordon. A few months before, I had discovered the delicious secrets of Mom’s used panties as well, which was a source of tremendous excitement as well as secret self-loathing. I felt like such a perv whenever I spunked in them, thinking of her, but I absolutely couldn’t help myself.

“I thought so. I had a feeling that the testosterone level has been rising around here lately,” she chuckled. “You can’t fool your old Mom when it comes to this stuff – you’re a glass of water to me,” she said, with a kind, all-knowing smile.

“God Mom, you’re embarrassing the crap out of me!”

Placing her hand on mine, she gave me a squeeze and said softly, “Ricky, the very last thing I want to do is to make you uncomfortable or embarrassed, but I have noticed some changes lately. You know I won’t judge you on this. I just want to know that you’re okay. Okay?”

“Okay, Mom,” I sighed. “It’s really hard to talk about though, I have so many confusing feelings about it all.”

“Why don’t you start by telling me who it is you think is pretty?”

“Well, in my math class, there’s Sally McPhee and Grace Kim. They’re really cute and nice,” I said in a rush. “I’ve talked to them a little bit, a couple of times, and I’ve seen Grace smile at me once.”

“I don’t know Sally, but I met Grace and her mom and dad at the last parent-teacher day. If her mother is any indication, Grace is going to grow into a gorgeous young woman. She also struck me as a very kind, genuine person. You’ve got very good taste, hotshot!” she concluded.

That made me feel real good to hear Mom say that, and I felt a little better opening up to her. “Uhhh, there’s a bit more though, and it’s this stuff that has me more confused,” I confessed uncomfortably.

Mom looked at me a bit speculatively and pursed her lips in thought, finger rubbing absently under her lower lip.

“Well,” she drawled, “Unless I miss my guess, I’m thinking that you are having more -shall we say- explicit thoughts about someone, and this is what’s troubling you.”

I stared at Mom aghast. She seemed to be looking through a window into my most private feelings. It felt as though she was reading my mind and knew everything about my secrets. It was at once alarming and strangely, a little bit exhilarating.

“I’ve seen you staring at Myra Gordon’s bottom, you know.”

Myra was our next-door neighbor. “Jesus, Mooommmm!” I felt like crawling into a hole and pulling it closed behind me.

“What about that is not perfectly normal?” she inquired, in a puzzled tone. “Surely your friends talk about who’s hot and who’s not, right? It’s also entirely okay to be attracted to older women too, you know. I’ve overheard you talking with Jack Hamilton about Mrs. DuPre’s ‘enormous rack.’ I also heard you threaten to punch him out when he said I was hot. (That was so sweet of you, by the way.) Your stick-in-the-mud old mom knows exactly what a ‘MILF’ is,” she concluded, an amused twinkle in her eyes.

If I could have blushed any harder at that point, I would have burst into flames. “Mom, you’re killing me! I’m soooo embarrassed!”

“You’re an absolutely normal young man,” she stated emphatically. “How on earth could I be upset that you feel this way about girls and women? I just hope that when you have more serious questions about girls and relationships that you’ll continue to talk with me. There’s no topic that is off limits there – if you’ll be honest with me, I promise to never, ever judge you and I’ll give you the best practical advice I can, if you want it.”

“Thanks, Mom. It’s just really hard to talk to someone about this stuff, but I’ll try to be honest.”

Mom took my hands in hers and looked at me seriously.

“Are we still best friends?”

Swallowing with difficulty, I simply nodded.

“Then you know that you can absolutely trust me, right?”

Smiling and touching my cheek, she continued, “I know sometimes that a guy needs to talk with another guy about some of this sex related stuff, but I also know that Gramps is not exactly the easiest person in the world to approach when it comes to this kind of thing.”

Mom was right on the mark about Gramps. In many ways, he fulfilled a lot of the needs that a growing boy has for a father figure, but when it came to women and sex, I guess his worldview was colored by the experience of Mom’s teenage pregnancy.

“The only thing I’m going to hold you to is being honest,” she said kindly. “I know how hard it can be talking with your old Mom about this kind of thing, but please don’t keep any secrets from me – there is nothing, I repeat, nothing that you could say which would upset me in any way. Even if you told me you liked boys more than girls,” she concluded.

“Ewwwww, that is soooo gross, Mom!”

“I happen to know that’s not true, anyway,” she said in a matter of fact tone. “But I do believe that there’s still someone you’re attracted to that you haven’t told me about, right?”

My secret shame burned within me like a small welder’s arc and my tongue felt like it was hewn from granite. I wanted so much to say what was really on my mind, but I was terribly afraid of what would happen. Head bowed, swallowing with great difficulty, I tried to speak but somehow, a twenty-pound rock had materialized in my throat, choking off the forbidden words written in my heart.

Reaching across the table, Mom put her hand under my chin, forcing me to look up. I couldn’t meet her eyes. Speaking quietly, encouragingly, she tried to coax my acknowledgement.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise I won’t be mad, whatever you say, whoever it might be. I promise.”

Try as I might, I was mute with fear. Finally meeting her gaze, lower lip trembling, I gave up, shamefully shaking my head.

Taking my hands in hers, Mom put me out of my misery, softly saying the words I couldn’t bear to speak.

“It’s me, isn’t it, Ricky?” she asked gently.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I was choked with emotion. “God Mom, I’m soooo sorry, but I can’t help it! You make me feel so good when I think about you, you’re so beautiful and sexy, but I know it’s wrong, so wrong! I feel excited and awful at the same time – I’m a horrible pervert! How can you even look at me?”

There it was, out in the open. I loved my mom, as a son, but wanted her so much as a woman.

Mom smiled kindly and enveloped me in a big hug, kissing the top of my head. “You poor sweet boy. That secret must be tearing you up inside. It’s okay honey. Truly. It’s okay,” she soothed. “What you’re feeling is normal – N-O-R-M-A-L,” she spelled out.

“I’ve known for some time now how you felt, but you need to know it’s perfectly okay for a fella your age to have those feelings. It’s really one of the biggest, best compliments a growing young man can pay to his mom. I’m not mad at all. Actually, I’m VERY flattered that I can get a hunky, young guy all riled up at my age – but more importantly, I still love my son this minute as much as I did before he told me, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed with tremendous relief. “But Mom, you don’t look old at all. All of my friends say you’re a real babe,” I added somewhat boldly.

She laughed and ruffled my hair. “I’m going to have to watch myself around you, handsome. You’re already turning into quite the smooth talker,” she said warmly and strangely, with a little bit of pride.

Somewhat more seriously, she added, “Ricky, you just joined a club with about a billion other members. I wouldn’t worry about your feelings towards me for another second. You’re going to find out soon enough that this is just a phase you’re going to go through. It’s an almost universal phenomenon in young guys. You’ll work through it just fine and be okay when you come out on the other side of this – you’ll probably even laugh about it then, and I’ll laugh with you,” she said wistfully.

“My boy is turning into a young man,” she sighed, giving me another big hug.

Feeling greatly relieved, I got around to the other thing that was bothering me.

“Mom, I think we’ve lost some of the time we used to be able to spend together. It seems that all we can do occasionally is to watch a movie, but then we’re both so busy with other stuff, I don’t know what to do. I guess I just miss being with you, you know, hanging out. I’d really like to spend more time with you.”

“Well, you’ve said a real mouthful there, bucko. I’m feeling a little bit the same way, but you know things can and have to change over time, especially as you grow up some more. You’ve got your own life to live and build and part of that is being more your own person, spending more time doing things you must do and want to do for yourself. I’m not going to spend extra time with you at the expense of your regular friends, athletics or your schoolwork.”

She looked past me, eyes focused on some thought she was developing. “Tell you what, sport. We don’t have enough hours in the day for all the things we want to do, so we’ll have to make lemonade out of our lemons. Let’s go to the kitchen. Momma’s gonna teach you how to help with the cooking. That way we get a little more time together but we don’t have to take time away from the other things we need to accomplish.”

“Mom! I’m a GUY! Guys don’t do that kind of stuff!”

“Indeed!” she snorted in amusement. “You know Bobby-Joe Boudreaux?”

“Duh, of course, Mom. He’s the Cajun bar-b-que king on the Restaurant Channel.”

“I’ll have you know that he’s one our firm’s clients. He owns 5 restaurants, employs at least 200 people and is pulling down over a million a year, AFTER taxes. A casino in Las Vegas is after him to open a named restaurant in a deal that on its own is going to be worth at least 4 times that much all by itself.”

She then dug the knife in a little further. ” I also happen to know that he owns a Jag XK and a Lamborghini Gallardo, along with a condo overlooking Central Park.” She then whispered conspiratorially, “I’m pretty sure he has at least 3 or 4 girlfriends in his current collection and I’ve heard that one of them models for Victoria’s Secret!”

“No way, Mom! He’s not even that good-looking!”

“‘Way’, young man. Very ‘way.’”


“Watch your mouth, Ricky! I thought that might get your attention. Now, I’m not saying this is what I think you should do with your life, but I do know you’re smart, hardworking and creative,” she smiled. “You’ve already made me very proud, you know.” She gave me a big hug and kissed my forehead. “I suppose what I’m getting at here is that my client wakes up every morning looking forward to his day. When you get older, you’ll understand how important that is.”

“I’ll bet he likes waking up every day, especially with Miss V.S. to look at in the morning.”

“Hush, you naughty boy! You know very well that’s not what I’m talking about! The point here is that if you’re really good at something and have a passion for it, the material rewards will follow that too. Most importantly, you’re very likely going to be happy in your life.”

“Okay, Mom, I think I understand. Let’s get to work. What are we cooking tonight?”

“That’s my boy. We’re going to have a good time, I just know it. You’ll thank me for this later, I’m sure.”

“How so, mom?”

“Well, as young man who is now beginning to notice the charms of the opposite sex, I’ll let you in on a secret. Women are absolute suckers for men who can cook, myself included.”


With that, we added a new ritual to our daily schedule. I didn’t know it at the time, but this one change in our routine would have a profound effect on both of us.

While in the beginning I mostly went along with Mom to humor her and to just be with her, I gradually began to enjoy the actual process, becoming an able, efficient assistant. Our time in the kitchen became that respite from the rest of the world, like the days when Mom and I used to take a weekend day together to go to museums or the zoo when I was little. It became the highlight of my day. Being around Mom was somehow a bit more comfortable, although I still had my fantasies about her, but they seemed to be intermixed with the other erotic interests I had. She sort of became an occasional fixture in my “stable” of imaginary bed partners. It seemed as though what Mom and I talked about was coming true, and I was able to reestablish a more platonic, but still loving connection with her.

As our culinary collaboration progressed, I began to take on more responsibilities besides clean up and fetching. I became very adept at mis en place, to the point that Mom and I could fly through even rather complicated recipes in short order. Gradually, she entrusted more and more prep to me. Ironically, it was this increased trust in my capabilities that led to a fundamental change in how I thought about my Mom.

I can still remember the details with great clarity. We had been collaborating on our kitchen partnership for some time. We were working through one of Nana’s heirloom recipes for Bolognese sauce. The air of the kitchen was redolent with the aroma simmering tomato sauce, fresh basil and oregano and sautéed ground beef and pancetta. Mom was dressed in an old white men’s oxford shirt, tails tied off above her midriff, over a plain white bra and some fetchingly snug blue jeans. Her feet were bare. There was classical music playing in the background, one of Bach’s solo violin partitas, a favorite of Mom’s. In spite of our bustle in the kitchen, things felt very peaceful and relaxed. We chatted amiably about our day’s events, joking and teasing as we worked.

It was the onions that did me in. I had been learning how to handle knives properly, with limited success, and Mom was ribbing me good-naturedly about it.

“I swear, Ricky, I don’t know what to do about you! You seem determined to convert Herr Henckel’s finest creations into axes or machetes. You are NOT hacking your way through the jungle or splitting firewood here, you are cooking! You take four times as long as I do for the same thing, and half of that ends up scattered on the table and floor.”

“Sorry Mom, it’s difficult to get the coordination down. I’m afraid I’ll add fingertips to the carrots if I go as fast as you.”

“Nonsense! Let me show you. We’ll do this onion. With that, she came around behind me, her front to my back, reaching her hands around to cover mine as I held the knife. “First, know that the curve of the blade is there for a reason. It’s your friend. You don’t pick up the knife for each chop, you rock along the curve of the blade, maintaining tip contact with the cutting board, like this. You keep the blade in one place, you feed the food under it. Yes, that’s it. Curl your fingertips to protect them as you push.”

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, I was acutely aware of her contact with me. I felt the heat of her hands on mine, her warm breath on my right ear as she spoke and the soft contact of her breasts against my back, the pressure of her pelvis against my buttocks. I could smell her shampoo and the faint, clean scent of plain soap and sandalwood from her favorite perfume.

I whispered a prayer of thanks for the apron I was wearing, because I was suddenly sporting the hardest, most rampant erection of my young life. Her embrace of instruction had unintentionally, but lightly thrust me against the edge of the counter, multiplying my difficulties ten-fold. My member was positively throbbing. At the same time, I was afraid, very afraid. What if Mom noticed my hard on? As turned on as I was, I couldn’t bear the thought of what she would think if she discovered my excitement. Things sure didn’t feel like a “phase” I was going through. As much as I was aroused, I felt equally ashamed, guilty that I was still having such perverted thoughts about my own mother.

“Let’s do one more together, I think you’re starting to get the hang of it.”

“Uhh, Mom, can we take a short break? I need to hit the head.”

“Sure sweetie – don’t be too long, we need to get this simmering pretty soon if we’re going to stay on schedule.”

Carefully turning to conceal my raging boner, I eased out of the kitchen to the adjacent half bathroom, locking the door behind me. Dropping my pants as soon as the door was secured, I crab walked to the sink and drew out my cock. There was no conscious decision on my part, but it seemed that suddenly, completely and inexplicably, Mom was the central and only point in my erotic universe. There was no rhyme or reason to it, it just was. With memory of her touch and smell still strong within me I began to stroke. I lasted maybe ten or fifteen seconds, spurting six or seven huge ropes of my seed into the sink.

“Ooohhhh, Mommmmmmmm,” I groaned.

My spending was so intense I fell to my knees, visions of her bare midriff, the glow of her skin and the smell of her perfume forever imprinted in my memory. It was the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced to that point in my life. What I was totally unprepared for though, was how I felt after I came.

Up until that moment, I suppose I was really no different from any other teenage boy. Jerking off was like scratching an itch that needed relief, something you simply had to do to maintain your sanity. In the past, when I envisioned Mom in my fantasies, there was always a vague to sharp feeling of guilt associated with my thoughts. But this time was very, very different.

It seemed as though I had crossed some sort of event horizon of love and lust and was now being sucked inexorably into a black hole of incredibly intense emotions, which I was powerless to stop. It was exciting and amazingly erotic. It was tender, warm and comforting. It was also absolutely terrifying. Terrifying that I should feel this way about the one person in the whole world I was supposed to love wholly, unconditionally and above all, chastely.

As I braced myself against the vanity with shaking arms and legs, head hung down, breathing like a steam engine, I struggled mightily to make sense of what had just happened. This wasn’t a “Gee, Mom, you’ve got really nice tits and a great ass, let’s fuck” five-fingered fantasy. This wasn’t a testosterone-driven libidinous itch. This wasn’t a little boy crush like I had experienced over some of my classmates or teachers in middle school.

This was suddenly realizing that the most wonderful, beautiful, desirable creature God had ever put on the earth was living under the same roof as me. The answer was inescapable. I was truly, undeniably and hopelessly in love with my own mom! Sweet Jesus, how could this be? How could things have changed like this, in a matter of a few moments? And yet, for all of the guilt and shame that seemed to come along with those emotions, there was an inescapable feeling of rightness about it all. It was simply meant to be.

Mom was tapping on the door. “You okay in there, Ricky?”

“Uhhh, yeah Mom, be out in a second. I just dropped the hand soap container.”

“If you made a mess, clean it up please.”

“No problem Mom, nothing to clean up.” I washed my hands quickly, checking the sink for any telltales, rinsing it thoroughly, then rejoining Mom in the kitchen.

“Ready for another go? There’s still celery to chop.”

“Okay Mom, let’s try that again.”

Once again she stepped behind me, repeating her earlier instructions as we worked through the celery. I didn’t think at all about the chopping, which was why I probably did such a good job. I concentrated on every second of her innocent contact with me, totally focused on those sensations, her smell and her voice. Damn! I was hard again and it had been only a few minutes since I came! I was rising on a swell of euphoria that had as much to do with how I was feeling in my heart as the sensations my Mom’s words, smell and touch were imparting to me.

“That was well done, Ricky. You’re coming along so nicely now, I can hardly believe it. Pretty soon you’re going to know as much as I do.” Mom gave me a big kiss on my cheek, catching the corner of my mouth by mistake. I hugged her strongly to my chest, inhaling the lovely scent of her as I squeezed, reveling in the aroma of soap and sandalwood and the soft press of her breasts against my chest. “Thanks, Mom. You know, I love you.”

“Ooof! Don’t squeeze your old mom to death! I love you too, son.” She held me out to arm’s length, looking at me directly. I had recently grown taller than her, so she had to look up slightly to see my face. She smiled gently and then released me, her eyes glistening for a moment, a small shadow of a troubled look briefly appearing on her face.

“What’s wrong Mom?”

“Oh, nothing important Ricky. Moms just get a bit sentimental sometimes. You’re growing up so fast I can hardly believe it. You’re already turning into such a handsome young man. I’m sure you’re going to leave a trail of broken hearts in your path before very long,” she sighed, a little misty-eyed.

“Maybe, Mom, maybe – but I’m only concerned about yours. You’re starting to act like I’m running away to join the circus or something. I’ve still got a long way to go before I graduate, you know.”

“I know, hotshot, but like I said, mothers are pretty emotional creatures sometimes.” She sighed and smiled with some effort. “Let’s finish up here. It’s time to start boiling the water for the pasta.”

With that, we returned to the mundane tasks at hand, but I was forever changed. A large part of me knew how sick, how wrong, how evil these new thoughts were, but there was another small, persistent voice I could hear whispering in the deepest recesses of my mind, calling out like a perverse siren, luring me towards the deadly rocks of lust and desire.

Outwardly, I was composed and cheerful, but that was all a glad façade. My head and loins were locked in mortal conflict as I struggled within. I would rather be pulled limb from limb than hurt my beloved mother, but oh, how I wanted her. How I wanted her, not just her body, but her heart as well. I wanted her to desire me as I yearned for her, showing her my love in all ways a man can do for his woman.

As I silently struggled to master this conflict, a very troubling notion intruded on my thoughts.

“You can’t hide this from her,” I realized in desperation. “She’ll figure things out very quickly, with very little to go on. Then what will you do?”

I thrust these musings to the back of my mind, concentrating on the tasks at hand. Our repartee and partnership continued until dinner, but my thoughts and emotions were in absolute chaos.

Over the succeeding weeks, I was able to keep things pretty well contained, but I absolutely lived for the slightest touch from her. Anything – a peck on the cheek, kind, affectionate words, a casual touch to the arm but most especially the hugs.

I was still wrestling with incredible guilt on another front, though. Mom now consumed all of my solitary fantasies, excluding all others. I sought out pictures of women with similar features and appearance through the length and breadth of Internet porndom. Any woman whose appearance met my standards eventually found her way onto my hard drive. When I discovered the wealth of amateur incest videos on the web, it became much, much worse, the unsteady camera work, disjointed web cams and grainy, low light atmospherics lending a twisted sort of reality and solidity to my fevered imaginings. Every boy was me, every woman my gorgeous, sexy mother.

I became totally paranoid about discovery. I downloaded everything though an anonymous FTP client, religiously purging my browsing history constantly. I went so far as to regularly reformat my hard drive to insure removal of all traces of my obsession. I transferred all of my downloads to a high capacity thumb drive and secreted it into a crack in the floorboards in the back of my closet. I could not chance even the slightest possibility of discovery. I was now past feeling bad about what my desires and fantasies were, but I was dreadfully afraid of how much Mom would be hurt by my secret, were she to discover it. It was this fear of hurting my true love that allowed me to develop some degree of control. It was often impossibly difficult, but I managed to ward off the temptation to escalate my obsession into more overt acts like peeping in her bathroom or going into her room at night. Often those urges were nearly overwhelming.

As I continued to lead my daily and secret lives, the year turned over and my skills in the kitchen continued to grow. I was now the line chef as often as I was the preparer, becoming adept at all manners of braising, searing, poaching and roasting. I also got a summer job working in the kitchen of Agostino’s, a well-regarded local restaurant. I mostly did menial work but was gradually learning the ropes of station cooking and food preparation.

Mom was impressed with my development, now often asking my advice on preparation or new recipes. Looking back, I can say that my enthusiasm grew from two sources. I really did love the process and creative aspects of cooking, but I think subconsciously, I was also ardently courting my mother through my efforts, seeking her approval, her respect and most of all, her pleasure at eating my creations. I never forgot her earliest words on the subject. “Women are absolute suckers for men who can cook, myself included.”


Under these circumstances, I contemplated the arrival of Mom’s birthday. I think in her own mind, Mom had reached the “whose counting” stage, but if anything, she was looking better and better to me with each passing year. I knew I wanted to do something extra special for her, and I wanted to do it in the kitchen (I really wanted to do much more than cook in the kitchen with her, but I was still managing to keep up some semblance of a barrier between my waking and nocturnal lives.) I approached Nana with my idea.

“Nan – can you help me out? I want to do something special for Mom’s birthday, but I don’t have enough money. I’m about forty bucks short of what I need,” I explained, outlining my plan. As I laid out the details, Nana broke out into a huge grin.

“Ricky! What a wonderful and thoughtful idea. Jen will be absolutely thrilled. You can count on me. We’ll make sure to have your mom out of the house for the day for your preparations. Don’t you worry about your budget – I’ve got your back on this one. I do have one suggestion, though,” she paused. I listened attentively. Nana was the best chef of all of us and I knew that Mom’s own considerable abilities were due in large measure to her mother’s tutelage.

“I have two words for you, young chef: ‘St. Emilion.’ Yes,” she mused, “Preferably a ’95 or ’98, since this is a special occasion.”

I was still very early in my knowledge of cooking and knew even less about wines. “Isn’t that pretty expensive, Nan?”

“Yes indeed, but with your permission, I’d like to make it our contribution to the celebration. Besides,” she teased, “If you slip up on the dinner, we’ll have a great bottle of wine to fall back on for distraction!”

“Nana!” I protested. “No way I’m going to mess this up.”

She laughed and pinched my cheek as only a grandmother can do. “I know, grandson mine. I can tell you have been getting ready for this for some time. A noble effort in the kitchen deserves a noble wine to accompany it.”

With that, Nana and I set our plans into motion.

That year, Mom’s birthday fell on a Saturday, which worked well for our conspiracy. Nana and Gramps got Mom out the door before noon, leaving me to my devices. My planning and preparations went off without a hitch, leaving me a bit of extra time to prepare our setting for the repast. I had Nana’s permission to use her best Wedgewood china and the family silverware. I lit the dining room with candles and went back to my room to print out the menu for the evening.

When Gramps and Nana returned with Mom, I was waiting at the front door.

I took Mom’s arm in mine and guided her to the dining room. “If Madame will step this way, her table is ready.” Her favorite CD was already playing, Glenn Gould’s peerless rendition of Bach’s Goldberg Variations.

“Ricky, what’s all this? What are you doing?”

I escorted her to her chair and presented her with the menu.

“Happy birthday, Mom.”

Mom scanned the menu, her hand jumping to her mouth, covering it in her surprise.

“Ricky! This is wonderful, so thoughtful, so special! How did you manage this?”

“Well Mom, I had some planning help from Gramps and Nana, but the cooking is all mine,” I said with pride. “I wanted to show you how much I love and appreciate you.”

“My god, I’m so impressed! Look at this – it must have taken hours! She showed her copy of the menu to Nana and Gramps. “Soup, salad, lamb, risotto, there’s even an amuse-bouche!” she gushed.

“I had some help in intelligence gathering,” I said, nodding to Gramps.

Mom’s eyes narrowed when she saw the Bordeaux named. “Ricky, where did you get the money for this? That wine, it’ s nearly $300 a bottle!”

“Easy there, Jen” Gramps interjected. “That’s our contribution to the celebration. This is an occasion, after all.”

“It most certainly is. That being the case, I want to thank all of you – it’s simply wonderful. I can’t wait to start!”

The wine flowed and the courses came out smoothly. I was actually able to sit at table a little bit and savor their enjoyment of the meal. It was one of my proudest and most cherished memories.

When the table had been cleared and everyone’s chairs pushed back, Gramps cleared his throat and spoke. I stood at Mom’s side. Her hand found mine.

“Rick, I’ve been following what you’ve been doing in the kitchen with your mother for some time now. At first I wasn’t sure whether I approved or not. I didn’t want your mom turning my only grandson into some kind of wimpy nancy-boy. I have to say I’m very impressed. I’ve paid a lot of money in the City for meals which weren’t half as good – this was a real mature, fully realized effort and I’m very proud of you, especially since you did it for your mother. You have a true talent.”

Nana absolutely beamed and nodded. Mom was squeezing my hand hard enough to cut off the circulation. I was grinning fit to bust. “Thanks Gramps, you have no idea how much that means to me, coming from you.”

Gramps rose from the table. “You keep up the good work, Rick. I have a feeling you’ll do us all proud some day.”

Nana joined Gramps, walking out to the family room. Mom followed me to the kitchen as I cleared the table. Once in the kitchen, Mom threw herself into my arms, hugging me fiercely, kissing my cheeks and forehead before laying her head on my chest. “Ricky, that was so wonderful, so sweet and so unexpected,” I almost don’t know what to say. You’re the most wonderful son any mother could possibly have. It was all so well done, so much care and work obviously went into everything, right down to the music…I love you so much sweetheart!” She was tearful with emotion now.

“Please don’t cry Mom.”

“Don’t be silly. Women are allowed to get a little weepy when they are very, very happy, like I am now.”

I was acutely aware of Mom’s body against mine. We were in contact from thigh to shoulder, her breasts pressed against my sternum, her head on my shoulder. I felt sure that she could probably feel my heart, which was pounding at a mile a minute. Her familiar smell of soap and sandalwood wafted to my nose, intoxicating me more than any wine possibly could.

“It’s the least I could do Mom, you’re everything to me.”

Mom hugged me tighter still and I began to feel the stirrings of a major woody in my pants. I desperately wanted the hug to continue, but I also was frantic that Mom would feel my burgeoning erection. I felt absolutely certain that my arousal was obvious to Mom, but she gave no clue, continuing the hug. Finally, I simply had to break our embrace.

“Well, I better finish the cleanup. Happy birthday again, Mom.”

“Thank you so much Ricky. I’ll cherish this memory as long as I live,” she said with a tender smile, eyes bright with emotion.

Par for my course, I finished the evening in a state of elation and conflicted lust. Just before she retired, Mom sought me out as I was leaving the bathroom, having just finished brushing my teeth. She hugged me again, looking into my eyes.

“Thanks again Ricky. You’re so special to me.”

“You’re more than welcome, Mom. I’m so glad I made you happy.”

Then I did something so bold, so impulsive, so incredibly stupid, that I couldn’t believe myself later.

I kissed Mom lightly on her lips and then fled to my room, leaving her standing in the hallway with a stunned look on her face.

Once in my room, I flung myself onto the bed, banging my head repeatedly on the headboard in frustration. How could I be such an absolute idiot? What the HELL was I thinking? I began to fear for my sanity and self-control. The meticulous mental partition I created between my private fantasies and the real waking world I shared with my mother was in danger of collapsing completely. How could I let Mom discover that my feelings for her were NOT a passing phase? I fell in love with her more each day and my desires to be with her, to be her lover, were turning into an uncontrollable force, I feared. If she learned the true depth and intensity of my feelings, her revulsion and disgust would know no bounds. It was absolutely unbearable.

Not surprisingly, after a while there came a quiet knock at my door.

“Can I come in, Ricky?” she asked softly.

I groaned inwardly. “Yeah Mom, door’s unlocked,” I said resignedly.

She sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand, kissing the back before clasping it in both of hers.

“We need to get a few things out in the open, son.”

I nodded mutely, afraid to speak.

Mom began to speak, kindly but firmly. “Kissing your Mom on the lips like you just did is not appropriate, sweetheart. You do not want to go down this road with me. You’re a hormonally impaired young man who has a glaringly obvious crush on his own mother. I will not allow you to become infatuated with me. I will not allow any intemperate displays of your feelings in this regard.”

“Believe it or not, I can appreciate how you might be feeling right now, but you have to get a grip on yourself and learn how to control your impulsive behavior. I’ll forgive that kiss as a one-time, birthday indiscretion, but there better not be any more of those shenanigans. You will absolutely not cross that line again. There will be absolutely nothing more between us, except a normal mother-son relationship. Are we crystal clear on this?”

I nodded again, tears filling my eyes. “I’m soooo sorry Mom. I didn’t want to upset you or hurt you, no way, not ever. But…but…I can’t seem to help how I feel about you. I can’t get you out of my head!”

“Every girl I see in the hallway at school, every pretty woman I pass on the street, I always end up comparing them to you,” I said miserably.

As I spoke, Mom’s eyes bored into me, her expression stony, her jaw set and lips thinned with suppressed anger. As I watched her struggle to contain her emotions, I braced myself for an explosion.

Finally, patience and motherly concern seemed to win out and her demeanor softened for a moment. “I know this is probably very hard for you to cope with, but things are going back to normal as of right this minute. If you think you need professional help, we’ll get it for you,” she said squeezing my hand sympathetically.

Sighing, Mom got up from my bed. She seemed somehow shrunken, shoulders slumped and a bit listless. “I always felt that we had a wonderful, close and loving relationship. If you place any value at all on that, on the real love I have for you, you’ll get your act together right now. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that things came to this pass.”


I tossed and turned interminably as I struggled to fall asleep. Far off mutterings of thunder and dim strobes of distant lightning from an advancing summer storm added to my disquiet. In my dreams, I replayed my brief kiss with Mom over and over. The variations were endless. Sometimes she returned the kiss with great passion, other times, she slapped me and beat me or dragged me by my ear to Gramps. Other times, she didn’t respond at all, simply looking at me with accusatory eyes as she faded from my vision, tears running down her cheeks.

In my febrile dream, I was suddenly aware of the sound of my bedroom door opening. The hallway light was on. It illuminated Mom from behind briefly before she slipped quickly into my room, very quietly closing the door behind her. The light was nearly nonexistent, but the illumination of my fever dream revealed a diaphanous light blue peignoir, which did little or nothing to conceal her figure. She was clearly, gloriously naked beneath it. In the dim, silver-gray light coming from my window, I could just make out the movement of her breasts beneath the material of the nightgown and the hint of hair between her thighs. Her nipples appeared hard, thrusting pebble-like against the bodice of her gown. She was breathing rapidly and deeply, her breasts rising and falling hypnotically beneath the encasing, near-transparent fabric.

Feigning sleep, I struggled to maintain slow, steady breathing as I lay on my back beneath my covers. There was a brief creak and a slight shifting as Mom sat on the bed next to me. Opening my eyes to tiny slits, I could see her looking at me, her expression a curious blend of anxiety and resoluteness. Closing my eyes fully again, I was startled when I felt her hand on my thigh. It took all of my concentration not to respond as she gently stroked. Sighing, she slowly pulled the covers off my lower torso and legs, exposing me to the cool night air. As she ran her hands over my naked legs, she murmured to herself.

“So handsome…so smooth…lovely.”

Gradually, her hands moved towards my groin, fingertips teasing the sensitive skin of my upper, inner thighs, right next to my scrotum. Then it happened. Her hand gently cupped my sac, her middle finger drawing a delicate line from my perineum back to my balls. I was now fully erect, my cock moving lightly against my abdomen in concert with my racing pulse. As Mom continued to cup my balls with one hand, she gently began to stroke my shaft with the other.

“Mmmmm, so pretty…so hard,” she whispered to herself.

Suddenly, there was a warm, enveloping wetness over the head of my cock. I started and cried out, my eyes opening fully, all pretense of sleep lost.

“Oh, Mom. So good!”

“Do you like Mommy sucking your wonderful cock, Ricky?”


“Lie back. I’m going to make you cum and eat all your delicious spunk.”

“Mommm, unnggghhhhh, I thought, unngghhhhh, you said we couldn’t….”

“I love you, Ricky. I…we…need this,” she moaned between licks of my shaft. Bending to her task with a will, she took my head back in her mouth and began jacking my shaft firmly and quickly. Overtaken by the intensity of her actions, I began to lose control.

“Ohhhh god, Mom. I’m gonna… I’m gonna…I’m cumming! I’m cuuuummmmmminnnng Mom!”

As I began to shoot, I heard a creak outside my door. Suddenly, it crashed open, with great force and speed, completely overwhelming the doorstop on the baseboard, its spring shattering into pieces as the doorknob buried itself in the adjacent drywall in a puff of white dust. Mom jerked away from me as I came, my cum splattering her cheeks and forehead as she turned.

“What the fuck is going on here!” Gramps roared. “What are you two doing?” Striding into the room like an avenging deity, he jerked Mom by the arm, slinging her across the room, where she fetched up against the wall in a sobbing heap. I felt myself seized by my shoulders, propelled forcefully out of bed as Gramps shoved me with all his might. “You little SHIT!” Shove. “You perverted bastard!” Shove. “You sick little son of a bitch!” SHOVE.

A sound of breaking glass, sharp pain and wetness as I hurtled out the window into the pouring rain and flashing lightning of the storm outside. Falling, falling, my mother’s plaintive cry fading into the distance as I fell and fell. “Riiiiiiccckkkkkkeeeeeeeeeeee,” she wailed. The ground rushed up to meet me and…

…I awoke with a moan, bolt upright, drenched in sweat, crotch soaked with my dream spend, my sheets damp with perspiration, blinking blearily in the golden morning light streaming through my window. Drawing a shuddering breath, I collapsed back onto my bed, shivering with the intensity of my nightmare.

When I dragged myself downstairs later, Mom was already up and about, sipping her coffee. Her hair was still damp from the shower and she was wearing an old, threadbare green housecoat over her man pajamas. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, with dark circles readily evident. Truth be told, I don’t think she looked much better than I did.

As I slid into my chair in the breakfast nook, she stared at me, her eyebrow raised in an unspoken question.

We just looked at each other for almost a full minute, neither of us speaking. I was tongue-tied and my difficulty talking only got worse as I saw her eyebrows start to narrow with impatience while she waited for me to respond. I felt that I was completely adrift, rudderless and lost. My brain knew what I needed to say, but all I could seem to think about was how pretty she looked, standing there in her simple cloth bathrobe.

Finally, shame won out and I cast my eyes downward, staring at the placemat on the table in front of me.

“Yeah mom,” I sighed. “I thought about things most of the night. I think I’ve already done some pretty bad damage to us, but I don’t want to lose what we still have. I’ll get my sh…er, stuff together from now on. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Ricky. You’re a good person- never forget that. You’re also still my boy and I love you,” she said, her voice hushed, choked with emotion.

She then lowered her voice and spoke seriously and slowly. “Just remember this, son: I know you better than you know yourself. Getting things back on an even keel is NOT going to be easy for you. I can sense the depth of your feelings for me, both good and bad. You’re facing a big challenge here and it’s not going to be as simple as saying your sorry and agreeing to ‘work on things’.”

Her voice broke briefly. “It’s going to hurt you a lot, Ricky, getting through this. I’m not sure if I can be there for you in the right way, the way you need, to get back on track.” She was openly crying now, her despair obvious.

I was on my feet in an instant, rushing to hold her. At first, she resisted my embrace, then gave way, head turned to my chest, wetting my tee shirt with her tears. I stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. I was starting to choke up myself. “I’m sorry Mom, I’m so sorry. I’ll get myself straightened out on this, I promise. I’ll do it for you, I’ll do it for us. I don’t EVER want to do anything to hurt you.”

She briefly returned my hug and broke our embrace. She put her hands on my forearms, looking into my eyes with great intensity, “Now you see why I can’t allow this…this…thing…between you and me to go one inch further. Look at what it’s doing to us, even after that one little kiss! You have no idea how much it all frightens me. I feel like we’re on the edge of a precipice.”

As she spoke, Mom grabbed my shoulders forcefully, her eyes boring into mine, testing, measuring and probing. I felt naked before her gaze.

After an interminable pause, she spoke, her voice choked with anxiety and sadness.

“When I look over that edge, Ricky, I see ruin. I see ruin and sadness. I can’t bear that thought.”

“I won’t let it happen, Mom. I refuse. I’ll be strong for us,” I said with a resoluteness I did not truly feel.

“I hope you can, Ricky. It’s going to hurt you and it’s going to make you grow up faster than I want. I’ll try to be strong for you too.”

I’m not quite sure how we managed to get through the next few weeks, but we survived. We gradually settled back into our routine, even beginning to enjoy our time together in the kitchen again. I got into sort of a weird headspace while all this was going on, with some unexpected benefits. I can see in hindsight that I was, without knowing it, redirecting my attachment to Mom into other outlets. Subconsciously or not, I think that saved my sanity. My grades were always good, but I developed an ability to concentrate that was gratifying and surprising. Suddenly the A’s were coming without too much pain and I rocketed up in the class standings, much to the approval of Gramps, Nana and most importantly, Mom.

I’m certain that Mom felt that our little talk had helped to get me to redirect my thoughts, but as time passed and I had time to reflect on what she had said to me that morning after The Kiss, I know I came to a conclusion which would have appalled her. What stuck with me was what was NOT said, as much as what she did say to me. She never flat out told me that she just loved me as her son, in that way only. The other question I asked myself in the dark hours of the night was why did Mom describe what happened as a thing between us? And why was she afraid? What was there to be afraid of when she knew I still loved her as a son, and always would? Unless, unless she felt some of the same things I did? Unless…she was somehow afraid of her own feelings? Of course, I could have been reading way too much into everything, as much as I was in love and lust with Mom, thinking with the Little Head Override was likely. For better or worse though, I began to believe that Mom simply couldn’t (and probably never would) act on what I thought were her own feelings towards me.


My 16th birthday came and went, and I got my driver’s license. Against Gramp’s objections, Mom made sure I had use of the family car whenever possible. In private, she made the reasons and the terms of her support clear.

“Here’s the deal hotshot. You need to get out and socialize. You need to see how many wonderful girls there are out there. I can’t and won’t be the only star in your romantic universe. You’ve been as good as your word so far, for which you have my admiration and respect, but I think this is a very important step for you to be taking now.”

“I understand, Mom, but you can’t expect me to acquire a girlfriend with a snap of my fingers.”

She looked me up and down with a frankly measuring eye, reaching to squeeze my biceps appreciatively. “I think you’d be surprised, Ricky. You’re a pretty handsome guy. Your running, swimming and weight room time are paying noticeable dividends and you have a certain charm about you that young ladies will have a hard time resisting.”


“But me no buts,” she said, brooking no disagreement. “My professional, womanly appraisal is that you are definitely hunky.” She smiled, squeezed my arm and ruffled my hair for the first time in ages. “Just remember, be your usual confident and assured self. The girls will be clawing and scratching to get at you, believe me.” She paused for a moment, looking at me more seriously. “I know you’re still carrying a bit of a torch for me, Ricky, but you’ve been good as gold lately, and I appreciate your maturity and restraint. You’ve done a tremendous amount of growing up in the past few months.”

“Dr. Mom’s prescription right now is to find a nice girl your own age. Do some necking and exploring together. Discovering intimacy with someone your own age is a sweet reward of being young. You shouldn’t miss that.”

“Wow, Mom. I hardly know what to say. I feel a bit sandbagged. Are you saying I should just hook up with one of my classmates, simply for fun?”

“Just get out there and see what happens, Ricky. You’re a very nice young man. I’m also sure you’re a gentleman and you wouldn’t deliberately hurt any girl you were, uhm, with. I just want you to have a normal life, seeing and doing all the things young folks your age do,” she said. I thought I could almost detect a note of pleading in her voice.

“Okay, Mom, I’ll do my best, but I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as you say to meet girls.” Inside, I was almost a little angry with her. How could I possibly make a serious effort to go out on dates with girls when I was in love with a woman?

“Remember, ‘Fortune favors the brave,’ Ricky.”

“As my general, my mother commands,” I replied, sketching off a casual salute.


I did my best to follow Mom’s advice, but it wasn’t easy. Having fallen hard for a real lady, I was not especially well equipped to deal with the adolescent game playing which seemed to be the stock-in-trade of most girls my age. I guess unlike most teenaged guys, what I wanted was something more honest and straightforward. Mom was right about girls being interested in me, though. That was a nice ego-boost, but because I was so particular and not into game playing, I quickly got a reputation as being a bit stuck-up and aloof. Well, I could live with that. Eventually, I did find someone who I got along with in Grace Kim.

As Mom had once predicted, she was growing to become a beautiful young lady. Tall, brainy, athletic and lithe, with long, amazingly glossy black hair all the way down to a major league great ass, she also had a reputation of being very choosy, a real Asian ice princess. It was with some trepidation I approached her about a date one day after homeroom.

“Hey, Grace, uhmmm, I was wondering if you were doing anything Friday. Do you think you’d like to see a movie with me?”

“I guess it would depend, Rick. I’m sort of allergic to explosions and bathroom humor.”

“Well, to be honest, I’ve been wanting to check out a double feature over at the college. It’s ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’ and Jean Cocteau’s ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ When I thought about who I know who might appreciate the movies, you’re the first person who came to mind.”

“I’d need to think about it.”

“That’s cool. Why don’t you check out the movies on the web and let me know tomorrow? If it’s not your cup of tea, no big deal.”

“Okay, talk to you then Rick.”

Grace caught up with me the next morning between third and fourth period, stopping me by my locker.

“Hey, Rick.”

“Hey, Grace. What’s up?”

She looked at me very directly, watching my face intently as she spoke. “You know Rick, when you asked me out yesterday, my first thought was to just say no. A lot of the girls I know say you’re arrogant and full of yourself, but I’m not so sure. The movies sound really interesting. They’re not your ordinary date stuff and I’m kind of flattered you thought of me to go see them with you.” She smiled suddenly, her face lighting up. “I don’t think you’re stuck up, you’re just different, and I kind of like that. It’s a date,” she concluded.

“Great. Pick you up at 6:30?”

“I’ll be ready.”


When I got home, I told Mom I wanted to borrow the car Friday for my date. I’m quite sure she was actually more excited than I was, and maybe also a bit relieved. That apparent relief actually hurt a little, but for the first time, I began to understand a little what pressure she might be experiencing from my not so secret yearnings. It was a sad feeling.

Her face broke out in a large smile as I told her my plans, her eyes sparkling. “That’s wonderful, Ricky! Who are you going out with? What are you going to do? Details, son, I wants details,” she exclaimed, her voice quickening with excitement.

“Relax, Mom. It’s just a first date, no big deal. I’m taking Grace Kim over to the college to see ‘Pan’s Labyrinth and ‘La Belle et la Bête,’ okay?”

“Well, that’s a pretty unusual but pretty original first date. You certainly seem to do things your own way, and you definitely aim high in your choice of women, hotshot.”

“I always do, Mom,” I said quietly. Realizing that comment might lead to a conversation neither of us wanted to have, I quickly changed the subject.

“Grace seems very nice, Mom. I think she’s just about the smartest and prettiest girl at school. I like her because she doesn’t play stupid games and doesn’t bullshit.”

“Watch your language, Ricky. Don’t forget that a little ‘game playing’ is part of the landscape when you date. You need to get used to that.”

“We’ve been over this before, Mom,” I said with some heat. “I don’t feel like wasting my time with girls who have agendas and aren’t really interested in me beyond my looks or for status. Besides, why do you think I feel this way? One of the reasons I love you and Nana so much is because you both talk straight and are always honest.” I was very careful to include Nana in my remarks to draw attention away from my real reasons.

Mom seemed to buy into my diversion, sighing and raising her hand in surrender. “Just be realistic, okay sweetie?” She seemed to pause, considering her words carefully. “You’re a horse of a different color, you know. Most boys really lag girls in emotional maturity at your age. You seem to be ahead of the curve. I don’t know if it’s good or bad, but I think it’s because of other…things, things between us, from before. I worry about that still, you know.”

I put on my best charming salesman smile and squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’m fine and we’re fine. You know I’d cut off my arm before I’d do anything to hurt or upset you.”

“Thank you, Ricky,” she said softly.

“And I can still talk to you, ask you if I have any questions about, you know, stuff?”

Her face lit up and she smiled. “Of course, Ricky. I’ll always be here for you – anything you want to talk about, any time.”

“Cool. Thanks, Mom.”

Somewhat to my surprise, Grace and I really clicked during the first date. She was clearly enthralled by the movies, not ever really having been exposed to classic cinema before. I was a bit surprised and rather gratified when her hand sought and found mine during the monster scene in Pan’s Labyrinth. That creature with eyes in the palms of his hands still creeps me out to this day.

We had a lively discussion about the movies over pizza and soda afterwards and I think she was impressed with my interest and passion for film history. We walked back to Mom’s car holding hands and I actually got a rather nice, if chaste, goodnight kiss when I dropped her off at her home.

On the way back to our house, my male ego was preening a bit, seeming to say, “Yeah, dude, you got what it takes, you can do this!”

But as I basked in a bit of self-congratulation, images I had of Grace and me in my head, kissing, doing other things, faded to be replaced my true north star. Even after a very nice date with the prettiest girl in my school, Mom remained foremost in my thoughts.

Even so, after just a few weeks of dating, we became quite close, immediately feeling very comfortable with each other. I think Grace liked my laid-back, no pressure approach to our relationship and I appreciated her straightforward, occasionally blunt honesty. I don’t think I was ever in love, but I did have great affection for her and truly valued her friendship. She was also a fantastic kisser. We became an item, to the surprise of many of our mutual friends and continued to see each other through the end of high school.


The early summer following my junior year in high school marked a tremendous change in my life and Mom’s. I was within weeks of my eighteenth birthday. We had been still living with Gramps and Nana, I think by their mutual agreement, so I could have something that resembled the typical nuclear family around me. But that June, Gramps had started making serious noises about retirement. He and Nana were looking forward to getting out and doing some traveling, living their own lives again, I’m sure. About that time, Mom got her first partner’s bonus, which helped make her decision. She announced her intentions following a Sunday dinner, surprising the heck out of everyone, myself included.

“Mom, Dad, I’ve signed a contract to purchase a home over on Middlebury Drive,” she informed us firmly. “It’s time for us to get out of your way and live our own lives.”

In the past, on several occasions Mom and Gramps had “discussions” about moving out, which usually ended when he would say something like “What about Ricky? I don’t want to see either of you go anywhere right now. I never thought that I would want to be a parent again, but having you two around has been a blessing, and I feel Rick is as much a son to me as he is to you, Jenny. If you want to pay rent, I suppose I could live with that, but why make a big change? This will also allow you to save and invest more of your income for a couple of years.” It was a very sensible, persuasive argument, which had prevailed in the past whenever the subject came up.

I think Gramps sensed that this time the situation was different. Mom was well established in her career, had saved a very respectable nest egg and I was graduating in a year. The usual arguments from him were not forthcoming.

I believe that Mom was primed for another “discussion” and was surprised when Gramps simply congratulated her.

Of course, I was over the moon. Our own place! Just my beautiful mother and me! My mind whirled with forbidden scenarios and lecherous possibilities. I was raring to go. “Mom, when can we go see it? I can hardly wait!”

“Closing will be in two weeks and the house is vacant, so we’ll move then.”

“But when can we see it? I don’t know if I can wait two weeks!”

“I suppose a look won’t hurt. I’ll see if the realtor will let us do a walk through tomorrow after work.”

“Mom, that would be so cool. Thanks!”

You would have thought I was 5 years old on Christmas Eve, I was so excited. I was on pins and needles until the next afternoon.

When we got to the house, I found that Mom had been holding out on me. The home itself was nothing out of the ordinary, a well-maintained colonial, painted simply in white, with dark navy shutters. It was a modest three bedrooms, with a nice front yard, shaded by 2 large, old maple trees and fronted with a well-tended lawn. But the backyard, that was the kicker. We had a pool! I was floored. It was big enough for decent lap swimming and a high privacy fence enclosed the entire yard, with additional screening provided by an even higher hedge, which encompassed the whole perimeter.

“Mom, that’s totally awesome! I can’t believe you did this for us!” I gathered her up in a big hug and spun her around.

“Ooof! Easy there, hotshot!” Her eyes sparkled as I let her down. “Before you go off the deep end, so to speak, just remember that YOU are going to be the pool boy around here. That is going to be your responsibility, ok?”

“I’m all over it, Mom. This is just off the charts!”

“If you drool over this much more, you’ll get dehydrated. Let’s go inside.”

As we explored, I could see that Mom had put a lot of thought into her choice. The basement was built out into a very nice family room. The third bedroom was going to ideal for a home office for her after hours practice work. The master suite and my room were right across the hall from each other (Down, boy! Bad horndog!) When we reached the kitchen, I could see Mom’s master plan at work again. It was actually significantly nicer than the rest of the house and had obviously been recently remodeled. Mom watched me out of the corner of her eye as I took visual inventory.

“I like it almost as much as the pool, Mom. We’ll have a lot of fun with this.”

“It turns out that the previous owners were pretty serious foodies,” Mom said. “I was fairly sure that you wouldn’t have any objections to a professionally equipped kitchen,” she added with a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile.

I turned to Mom and hugged her again (any excuse!) “I love you, Mom. I can tell you were thinking about me a lot when you made this choice. I really don’t know what to say. I’m blown away.”

She squeezed me back and then disengaged herself firmly. “You already said everything you needed with those first four words, Ricky. I think we’ll be pretty happy here.”

In less than three weeks, we were moved. Our first night together in the house was two days after my eighteenth birthday, which we had celebrated in style, going into the city with Grace for a small film festival at NYU and eating Peking Duck at my favorite Chinese restaurant off Mott Street. I had the pleasure of helping Mom spend some of her bonus check on furnishings, having taken on the terribly onerous responsibilities of putting an entertainment center together. We had a seriously good time hitting all of the various and sundry cooking stores, equipping our new kitchen exactly as we wanted. Through the process, I was continually struck by how closely our likes and dislikes meshed. It was actually really neat and unsettling at the same time. Once again, I found it becoming very difficult to maintain an outwardly filial attitude towards Mom, as in my secret heart I was struggling with the feeling that we were becoming more and more of a couple.

My secret emotions and desires aside, we really did have a very happy start in the new house. Unfortunately, it only lasted a few weeks.


We had just finished dinner and were sitting in the breakfast nook sipping a little coffee together. Mom was a little antsy, having been waiting to hear from Gramps and Nana, who were in transit to a week at Saranac Lake for a well-deserved vacation. Gramps had already put in his papers and was using up his accumulated PTO. Nana had already begun gathering a voluminous quantity of cruise brochures.

When the doorbell rang, Mom said, “I’ll get it. Why don’t you clear the table?”

I couldn’t hear much of the low conversation in the entryway because I had the water running in the sink as I was loading the dishwasher. It was then I heard Mom shriek.

“Oh my God! No! No! Noooo!”

I dashed around the corner, sliding into the front hallway. It was then I saw the state trooper in the doorway, and I knew.

I ran towards Mom as she began to sway, reaching her just in time to lower her to the floor as she sobbed in grief.

“I’m very sorry for you loss.”

“What happened, officer?” I croaked.

“There was a multiple vehicle accident on the Taconic Parkway – your grandparents were killed. It involved a tanker truck. There was a fire. We would have gotten in touch with you sooner, but there were…difficulties, in uh, identifying the victims. I’m truly sorry, son. Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked, unable to meet our eyes.

“I…I…don’t think so, officer. Uh, uh, actually I…don’t really know,” I admitted.

“Your mom looks to be in a bad way, son. Just stay with her for now. When you’ve got her settled, make sure you get a hold of her employer – she’ll need time off. If you know who her folks’ attorney was, you’ll need to talk to him or her as well, to find out about a will, if there is any. Mostly, you should be with her – she’ll need you.”

“Thanks. I’ll do that.”

“You folks take care. Here’s my card. If your mother wants to talk to me later, or if her parent’s attorney needs any details, please call me. I mean that. I’m truly sorry. I really hate this part of my job, you know,” he confessed, voice tight.

Mom struggled to her feet and I took her elbow to assist her up. Rallying herself momentarily, she took the card from my hand, glancing at it briefly. “Thank you, officer…Bennett. You’ve been kind and as tactful as the situation allowed you to be. We have things we need to do now, if you’ll excuse us.”

Trooper Bennett nodded and went out the door, closing it very softly behind him as he departed. I turned to Mom, putting my arm around her shoulders.

“Let’s go sit down for a minute, Mom.” I led her into the living room, where we sat on the sofa. She held herself upright and immobile, looking out the window into the front yard with a thousand yard stare. Tears welled silently from her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks and onto her arms as she hugged herself and rocked back and forth. I simply held her, not trusting myself to speak.

My own emotions were in chaos. For all practical purposes, Nana and Gramps had been my parents just as much as Mom. For them to be suddenly just…gone…was beyond any comprehension I could muster. It felt absolutely unreal, like it was happening to another person. I seemed to be totally outside myself, numb to the events. I wondered if there was something wrong or missing within me. The shock was so enormous I simply couldn’t react to the news. As I directed my thoughts outward again, looking at Mom, there was nothing I could think of to say, so I just hugged her, pulling her head onto my chest.

We sat together like that for quite a while, probably an hour or two. Subjective time seemed to condense as the shadows lengthened and dusk swallowed the outside world. It was now full dark. Mom was spent, head resting in my lap, one arm curled around my waist while she dozed. I had one arm around her upper waist while I stroked her hair with my free hand. A slight evening breeze stirred the living room drapes in desultory fashion, bringing with it the occasional whoosh of a passing car and the steady background of chirping crickets, the sheer normalcy of the summer night compounding our personal tragedy.

Gradually, Mom stirred and came to herself. “I need to get ready for bed,” she said in a monotone. Without another word, she stood and walked slowly upstairs. I went to her office and rummaged through her purse until I found her Blackberry. Paging through the directory, I found a number for her practice. I called and left a message on voice mail, explaining we had a family emergency and that Mom would not be in the following day.

Going to my room, I could see Mom’s door was already closed. I knocked gently. “Are you okay, Mom?”

“I’m fine, Ricky, go to bed, get some sleep.”

“Let me know if you need anything, Mom. I mean it, anything, okay?”

” I just need to rest right now,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless.

I went to my room and proceeded to toss and turn for hours. Finally sleep took me, my dreams worse than my waking thoughts. Some undetermined time later, I was startled awake in deep darkness. The alarm at my bedside read 3:25. Mom was sitting on the edge of my bed, eyes red, and her face haggard. Holding my hand. She whispered, “I’m sorry Ricky, I can’t seem to get to sleep.”

“That’s okay, Mom.” I covered myself with the blanket and sheets, sliding to the edge of my bed, against the wall, patting the mattress next to me. “Snuggle up here, if you like.”

“Thanks,” she said, with a ghost of a smile. She lay down on top of the covers, spooning up against me. I put my arms around her, drawing her close, rotating my hips slightly to conceal my totally inappropriate hard on.

I held her tightly with one arm and gently stroked her shoulders with my free hand. I whispered in her ear, “It’s all right Mom, you can sleep now. I love you.”

Within minutes, she had relaxed, her breathing slow and regular, but I couldn’t fall asleep to save my life. I tasted black, bitter irony, knowing I would have signed a contract in blood only a day ago to get my beautiful mother in my bed like this, but now having to put all of my lustful-loving thoughts into the deep freeze.

Thank God she was wearing man pajamas. Anything more feminine and I would have been in deep, deep trouble. Sighing, I scrunched down under the covers, trying to keep my straining cock away from her buttocks.

Eventually, I fell asleep, only to be jolted awake by the ringing of our phone. I struggled awake, the room a blur as I tried to blink away the residue of dried tears in my eyes.

My alarm said it was 8:00. Mom was still out like a light, but had somehow turned around during her sleep so she was facing me, one arm around my torso, her face close to my chest. I could feel the moist warmth of her breath across my pecs as she exhaled every breath. I was suddenly aware of how huge my morning wood was, only inches from the front of her thighs.

The phone continued to ring. Grumbling under my breath, I quickly and gingerly worked my way from under the covers. As I straddled Mom’s form on all fours, struggling to get to the edge of the bed without waking her, my cock popped out of my pajama bottoms in all its early morning glory. Mom’s breathing changed and she seemed to stir. Cursing silently, I essentially rolled the rest of the way off the bed, hitting the floor with a soft thump as I stuffed Mr. Johnson back where he belonged. I then rushed quickly to the kitchen to get the phone.

The call was from Mr. Briggs, one of the senior partners at Mom’s firm.

“Hi. This is Art Briggs. Is this Rick I’m speaking to?”


“We got your message from last night,” he said in a concerned voice. “Is Jennifer all right?”

“She’s sleeping right now. She had a rough night.”

“If I may, could you tell me what’s happened?”

Having to actually say it out loud proved to be nearly impossible. My voice broke and I could not hide my anguish. “My grandparents were killed in an accident yesterday…” I couldn’t continue.

“Dear God. This is terrible, terrible news. I’m so sorry, Rick. I know from things your mother has said that you were all quite close.” Clearly struggling to marshal his thoughts, he asked, “Please let me know what we can do to help.”

“I’m not really sure, Mr. Briggs. I guess we need to make funeral arrangements and stuff like that, but I need to talk with Mom before anything else. Can I have her call you back when she wakes up?”

“Please do. Anything we can do, anything at all, she just has to ask. Have her call my private line when she gets up, I’ll be waiting.”


“Take care, son. We’re all thinking about you. Don’t forget, anything you need, any questions, that goes for the both of you. If you need someone to talk to, I’m available any time. Let me give you my private number.”

I took down the information and left the notepad on the kitchen table. I was suddenly feeling terribly drained. Pausing first in the bathroom, I made my way back to bed.

Mom was still asleep, her back now turned to my former position in the bed. I carefully eased over the top of her, back to my original location, scrunched up against the wall. I knew I couldn’t trust myself to lie on top of the bed next to her, so I carefully shimmied back under the sheets. As I settled back in, Mom suddenly rolled over, facing me, her eyes still closed. Mumbling in her sleep, she again burrowed her head against my chest and flung her arm over me. Sighing, I did my best to ignore the newly resurgent hardness in my PJs. Once again I could feel her warm breath flowing over me, her arm curled tightly around my torso.

The conflicting emotions I was experiencing threatened to drive me mad. I reveled in our closeness, feeling an incredible tenderness as Mom held on to me, but at the same time I was absolutely throbbing with desire, consumed by waves of guilt that I could not control myself for even one minute, especially now, when Mom needed me the most. How could I possibly be excited at this minute, with Nana and Gramps gone? “Jesus H. Christ, Rick!” I thought to myself. “Get a fucking grip! Your Mom needs you to be there for her and all you can do is get a boner!” I felt like an absolute shit.

Somehow, I fell asleep again, awakening later with a jolt from troubled dreams, as I felt Mom touching my face.

“I’m sorry, Ricky. You were moaning in your sleep. Are you okay?”

Struggling to wakefulness, I croaked, “Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Just a bad dream. What about you?”

Mom gave me a ghost of a smile. “Thanks for sharing your bunk with me, sweetheart. I don’t think I’d have gotten a wink without you.”

“Anything you need, just tell me. I’m here for you, Mom.”

She sighed and a tear trickled out of the corner of each eye. “You’re my anchor, Ricky. You’re such a good son.”

I gave her a hug and kissed her forehead. “We’re going to be okay. Just tell me what I can do.”

“Please hold me for just a couple more minutes, sweetie.”


That first day was pure hell. We spent half our time on our phones, which were constantly ringing. Between dealing with the Ulster County coroner’s office, the funeral home and concerned friends and neighbors, we were totally exhausted by midafternoon. Then we had to pull ourselves together to go to our church to arrange the memorial service and to stop by the funeral home and wade through the painful details of the cemetery plot, headstones, caskets and flower arrangements. We agonized over the necessity of closed coffins and the knowledge of how Gramps and Nana died, and in the end decided that cremation would be best, all ironies aside. Mercifully, we were able to conclude the arrangements in a couple of hours.

By the time we returned home, it was near six o’clock. We were running on sour, empty stomachs and jittery with excess caffeine and fatigue. I made us some scrambled eggs and toast and we sat in the family room, eating mechanically, paying no attention to the insipid sounds of the TV, each lost in our own thoughts. Between my fatigue and the demands of the day, I felt as though I was wrapped in the emotional equivalent of cotton wool, everything around me seeming fuzzy and dampened. After a while, Mom snuggled under my arm and we just sat, neither of us saying much as we decompressed from the day’s stresses. I enjoyed our contact, all the while praying that Mom wouldn’t notice the ever-present, throbbing barometer of my love and lust, my nervous eyes constantly darting to her face to check for any recognition of my arousal.

As I sweated bullets, worrying about Mom noticing my rock hard cock, I lost all track of time. Unaccountably, our phones had finally fallen silent. Some time later, Mom sighed, got up and stretched. “I’m going to take a bath and get changed. I’m exhausted.”

I nodded and forced myself to stand.

“I’ll do the same.”

I sat numbly on my bed, waiting for Mom to finish drawing her tub. Once I heard the water stop, I made my way to the shower and cleaned quickly, retiring again to my room. Later, I heard Mom go back downstairs and turn the TV back on.

Although I was terribly tired, between the sadness and residual coffee buzz, I was in no condition to sleep. I must have sat for a long time, unaware of time, because when I zoned back into reality, it was dark outside. I could still hear the TV downstairs. I quietly made my way down the stairs to the family room.

Mom was sitting stiffly on the sofa, staring vacantly at the TV, her cheeks wet. Looking at her, I could feel my own tears beginning again as well. At that point all I wanted to do was to hold her and comfort her, making the last 24 horrible hours disappear in my embrace.

I went to her side and took her hands, drawing her to her feet. I led her, unresisting, into my room and tucked her under the covers, scooting myself back into the corner of the bed and wall, on top of the sheets. I put and arm around her upper chest and stroked her hair.

“It’s all right Mom, I’m here. Just relax and close your eyes. Let it go. Let it go.”

Gradually, Mom stopped crying and after about fifteen minutes, she fell asleep. I lay next to her for a long time, once again cursing the fate that had finally brought my mother into my bed in this way. After an interminable wait, sleep finally claimed me. My recollections are of a jagged mosaic of erotic images and guilt. At one point, I dreamt that Mom was jacking me off in my bed, both of us naked. Gramps and Nana were watching from the doorway, shaking their heads with disapproval before they faded from view. At that point, I woke up.

To my shock, Mom had thrown off the covers and was spooned directly up against me. I was sporting a painfully hard erection, which was nestled directly in the cleft of her jutting buttocks. Almost as bad, my arm had somehow gotten trapped underneath her, my fingers unconsciously molding to the gentle curve of her abdomen. I could sense the warm smoothness of her skin underneath the fabric of her nightgown and the slight, sensuous movement that occurred with each breath she took.

I was jammed up directly against the wall next to my bed with nowhere to go. I knew if I moved, I’d probably wake Mom up and there would be no hiding my aroused condition. As delicious as the sensation of my cock against her silky ass was, I was terrified of the thought of Mom waking up at that moment. I was mortally certain she would kick me to the curb if she woke up with my boner poking her butt.

Mom stirred slightly in her sleep, nestling closer to me. The soft press of her ass against me was unbearable. I was tremendously excited, penis pulsating mightily. Mom snuggled in even closer, sighing contentedly, almost seeming to deliberately grind against me.

Then it happened. With almost no warning, I went over the edge. Gritting my teeth with a low grunt, I spurted in my pajama bottoms, immediately soaking myself as I throbbed and shuddered against Mom’s wonderful, smooth ass. Dear God, what was I going to do? There was no way I could hide my cum-soaked groin from Mom if she woke up. I had to get up right this minute.

With a groan, I heaved myself out from behind her, simultaneously twisting and rolling over her hip to land on the floor with a loud thump. Unaccountably, as I maneuvered myself over her, I thought I saw the faintest of smiles on her face. She then appeared to awake with a start as I hit the floor next to the bed.

“Whaaa? Unh, Ricky, wasshappening?” Mom blearily inquired as I jostled her. She sounded sleepy, but strangely, her eyes were bright.

“Sorry, Mom. Gotta pee real bad,” I mumbled, bolting for the door, keeping my back to her.

“Please do, Ricky. I don’t want to wash any bedding today,” she teased, a wan half-smile on her face.

“Thanks a lot, Mom,” I groused.

After I shut myself in the bathroom, the extent of my release became apparent. The entire front of my pajama trousers was completely soaked and tacky with my semen, my groin and thighs sticky-slick with what seemed like a quart of my spending. I was confused by the way in which Mom seemed to wake up and the disconnect between how she sounded and her expression, but I was simply too sleepy to process the apparent contradictions any further.

I quickly set about cleaning myself off with a wet washcloth; shuddering at the touch of the cold, rough fabric on my cock and balls as I scrubbed off my juices. I rinsed the p.j. bottoms in the sink to obliterate the evidence of my cum. Rooting around in the hamper, I couldn’t find any old shorts or underwear to put on. “Damn, they must still be in the laundry room,” I thought to myself. I couldn’t very well put my now-soaking pajamas back on. I had to get to the laundry room without Mom seeing me through the open doorway of my bedroom.

Carefully poking my head into the hallway, the coast appeared clear. Butt naked, I quietly padded to my doorway and peered around the doorjamb. Mom was facing the opening, but appeared to be asleep. I quickly darted across the intervening space and made my way downstairs. I found a suitable pair of shorts and a tee shirt in the dryer and then made my way back upstairs.

When I arrived back in my room, Mom was sitting up in the bed, pushing her tousled hair off her forehead. Looking at me, she truly smiled for the first time in two days.

“Did you sleep well, sweetie?”

“Uhhh, yeah Mom, not too bad,” I mumbled.

“Thanks again for last night, Ricky. It seems I can’t sleep unless you hold me these days. I feel safe and protected when I’m with you. It’s about the only thing that feels good right now.”

“It’s the least I can do, Mom. I’ll do whatever it takes to help us get through this.”

“I love you, Ricky.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

“Now, if you’re through prancing around the house in your all together, I’d appreciate a cup of coffee.”

I blushed incandescently. Tongue-tied, I nodded once and went to the kitchen. God, I was so embarrassed, totally busted by Mom. I could only wonder if she had actually been awake when I came against her ass. Well, looking on the bright side, at least I didn’t have a hard on when she saw me in the hallway.

A short while later, I returned to my room with mugs for the both of us. Mom was still sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in thought.

“Here’s your coffee, Mom.

“Ahh, thank you, Ricky. Now, what’s with this running down the hallway naked?”

“God, sorry about that Mom. I just wanted to put on some old shorts and a shirt, but there wasn’t anything in the hamper. If there had been a way to close my door before I went by, I would have done it. I couldn’t very well walk back into my bedroom naked, you know. ”

“I should hope not. As much as I might like waking up to a handsome, nude young man, that wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Mom!” Secretly, I was relieved but puzzled that she didn’t ask about my pajama bottoms. Suddenly, I was confused and very, very anxious. Did she know she made me come in my pants? How could she not notice that I should have been wearing them down to the basement to get my clean clothes? How could she just ignore all the evidence?

“Sorry, kiddo. I’m just teasing you a little. God knows I need something to cheer me up these days.” She smiled reassuringly.

“If seeing me naked is what cheers you up, then I’d say we have a problem, Mom.”

“I suppose I deserved that for jerking your chain, Ricky.”

“On the other hand, if that’s what it takes to make you happy…” I said, standing next to her, pretending to pull my shorts down.

“Ricky! Don’t you dare!” she exclaimed in shocked tones.

“Just kidding, Mom. You know I’d never…”

She let out a gusty sigh. “I know, Ricky. It’s just that things are just so out of kilter, so strange; I probably shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool, Mom. Things aren’t very normal right now and we’re both under a lot of stress. Anyway, I guess we should get going now,” I added, deliberately changing the subject. “Are you hungry at all, Mom? Can I fix you something?”

“Don’t go to the trouble, sweetie. Just bring me a yogurt, that’ll be fine.”


Mom smiled wanly and stood up, giving me a long hug and kissing my forehead. “You’re a good man, Curly.”

Not trusting myself, I hugged her back briefly and then left quickly for the kitchen, yodeling as I left. “Woop woop woop woop!”

Being a little goofy that morning definitely helped us get through the day. As for the rest of the week, the less said the better. The funeral and memorial service were about as painful an experience as you can imagine. The only solace there was the turnout. I counted over ninety people at the service. I don’t think Mom let go of my hand for the entire day.

I was still in shock, unable to come to grips with the fact that Nana and Gramps were just…gone. When you’re a self-absorbed, Mother-besotted teenager as I was, you tend to take a lot for granted. I never really, truly appreciated how much of my basically normal, pleasantly routine existence was the product of our extended family life together. Now, in the past few days, it all became excruciatingly clear how important my family was to me. I don’t think that I had ever truly acknowledged to either Gramps or Nana how much they meant to me, and now those things that had been left unsaid between us burned at my conscience like dull, hot iron.

The night after the funeral and service, there wasn’t even any discussion between us. At bedtime, Mom simply came to my room and we took our usual positions in the bed. This continued for another week. After sleep would come, I would awaken each morning to find Mom close to me, sometimes spooned against me, others with her head against my chest and on one excruciating dawn, her arm around my torso and leg thrown over my thigh, groin close to mine. On this occasion, I came as close as I ever had to yielding to my long-suppressed desires.

As she lay almost on top of me, I could feel the heat of her thigh against mine and the faint stirring of warm, moist air as she exhaled against my chest. As her chest expanded and contracted with each breath, the swell of her bosom would push against me. It seemed as though her nipples were stiffening as they brushed up against my bare pecs through the soft flannel of her pajamas and I thought I could feel them, pebble-like, as her breasts rose and fell against me.

I was so turned on by her closeness that the front of my pajama bottoms was already damp with precum, the tip of my cock practically drooling. As though viewing a surreal movie from outside myself, I saw my trembling hand tracing lightly along the smooth curve of her thigh, slipping up to the point of her hip and then sliding back to lightly, carefully cup one of her cheeks. My heart thudded and shuddered as though trying to escape from my chest like a trapped beast and my pulse roared in my ears. As I lightly squeezed her supple tautness, my other hand drifted towards my groin.

An entirely involuntary, hoarse whisper escaped my lips.

“Oh Mom,” I groaned. “So beautiful…” I sighed painfully, my voice a faint, despairing whisper.

Just as I seemed powerless to stop my first tentative caress, my other hand declared independence from my fevered brain and found its way to my cock. Five alarms worth of bells were going off in my conscience, but I had already slipped beyond the confines of self-control, the dreaded, secretly longed-for point of no return looming right in front of me.

Just as I began stroking myself, Mom stirred lightly, her lips turning up into a slight smile. The spell broken, I quickly and guiltily jerked my hand away from her ass as she stretched, pulled her thigh away from me and slowly opened her eyes.

“Good morning, sweetie. You’re already awake. Did you get enough sleep?” she asked dreamily. She was smiling gently, her face smooth for the first time in days, now only slightly careworn. I wanted so much to brush the hair off her forehead and kiss her

“I’m good, Mom.”

“Are you sure? I’ve been imposing on you for quite a while now.”

“You know there’s no chance you could ever really ‘impose’ on me, Mom.”

She ruffled my hair, this time more slowly and gently than usual, almost a caress. Then she bussed my cheek, catching the corner of my mouth. I’m sure that kiss wasn’t intended to land where it did, but for all of its innocence, she may as well have hit me over the head with a fencepost. I held my composure with only the greatest of difficulty.

“Thanks for everything Ricky. I can’t tell you how much help you’ve been this past week. I wouldn’t have made it without you, sweetheart,” she said warmly.

“I’ll always be here for you, Mom. All we have now is each other.”

As Mom hugged me tightly, I shuddered inwardly. How could she not sense the state of my cock? I was rampantly erect and the front of my pajamas were damp. There was no possible way Mom could fail to perceive my condition. And yet, she gave no indication as she hugged me, no sign that she was aware of my arousal.

I squeezed her back and extricated myself from her embrace. “Sorry Mom, gotta hit the head.”

When I returned, Mom was already back in her bedroom. I heard the shower start up. I threw myself back on my bed with a sigh. As I rolled face down into the covers, I could still smell her in the pillow and feel the residual warmth of her body in the sheets and mattress. Breathing in deeply, I rolled on to my back again, reaching into my pants with a groan. Grabbing a bottle of lotion at my bedside, I stroked myself furiously, my head turned into the pillow we shared, inhaling her scent as I sought relief.

After I cleaned myself up, I laid back, staring blankly at the ceiling. As much as I loved waking up with Mom each morning, I knew it wasn’t going to continue indefinitely. More to the point, after today’s little excitement, I was afraid that I’d do something stupid and irreversible if Mom slept in my bunk one more time. I was perilously close to the edge this morning and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to control myself again. With a mixture of relief and aching regret, I decided that I’d have to speak with Mom about it that evening.

I got dressed and headed downstairs and made us some breakfast. Mom came down a few minutes later, dressed for work.

“Mom, I thought you had the rest of the week off?”

“I need to keep myself occupied, Ricky. I can’t just sit around right now. You’ve been a perfect son to me these past few days, but I can’t lean on you indefinitely. My work is piling up and you’re going back to school in just a couple days. We need to get back into some kind of routine now.”

Mom took a couple of bites of the toast I made and drained her coffee in three long gulps. She gave me a long, fierce hug and kissed me on both cheeks.

“I’m going to be okay, Ricky, mostly because of you. You’ve turned into a fine young man and I’m very proud of you, you know.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I’ll see you at supper time, hotshot.” She took my hand gave it a strong squeeze. “I’m going to be okay, Ricky. I mean it. Things are going to be fine. I’m going to be sad for a while, but I know my wonderful son is there for me when I need him.”

With that, she hugged me once more and then, to my surprise, gave me a quick peck on the lips just before sweeping out the door.

I stood there getting linoleum burns on my chin for a couple of seconds before I got my brain back in gear. I dashed towards the garage but something made me stop in the darkened doorway. I could see Mom inside her car, leaning forward. Both hands gripped the steering wheel and her forehead rested against its top. She stayed in that position for a couple of moments and then slowly raised her, head, tilting the rearview mirror to look at herself. She appeared to stare at her reflection, unblinking for about ten or fifteen seconds and then shook her head with a small smile and then turning, backed out of the garage. I didn’t see her again until after six.

That evening, things were determinedly back to normal. Mom ate dinner quickly and retired to her office to work on her backlog. I watched TV until bedtime. Mom came out of her office, gave me a perfunctory peck on my cheek and a quick hug and then bade me goodnight. She strode purposefully into her own room, closed the door quietly and that was that.

Well, one “pressing” problem was now solved. I no longer had to worry about resisting the temptation to molest my mother every morning. I was now left with the mystery of Mom’s kiss and her behavior in the car before she left for work. I couldn’t begin to fathom what had happened, especially with Mom so decisively returning things to routine when she got home, but I still had the strange feeling that the universe had slipped just a little bit sideways into territory that I didn’t fully understand. I had a very clear sense that my relationship with Mom had subtly changed, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.


Going back to school was incredibly difficult. We barely had time to arrange the funeral and I then was back in classes with Gramps and Nana not in the ground for even a week. Sorting out my own feelings and being there for Mom seemed to take all the energy I had. I kept my grades up reasonably well, but mentally and emotionally, I felt like I was wading through hip deep mud. Not only was I trying to cope with the loss of my other parents, I still felt very guilty about my reactions to the time when Mom was sharing my bed.

It wasn’t until after New Year’s that I felt as though we were finally returning to some semblance of normal. I won’t go into what the holidays were like, except to say that Mom and I leaned on each other, a lot. Fortunately, when one of us was in a funk, the other was usually able to be there.

I was right in my going-back-to-school ruminations about Mom, and me though. We were always close, sharing just about everything with one another, being very open, but now I felt as though there was almost a deference in some of her interactions with me. There was little if any of the old, traditional parent child nagging about doing chores, homework or cleaning “that pigsty you call a bedroom.”

We talked about paying bills, priorities for repairing stuff around the house, coordinating household errands and shopping, things of that nature. It was kind of weird, but felt really good on another level. Mom was making me feel much more adult and treating very much as the man of the house. I think she was letting me know that she considered me to be really growing up and I relished those feelings. I wanted her to feel proud of me, proud of how I was taking care of her. As with any change though, there were unintended consequences which Mom seemed completely unaware of.

Nana and Gramps’ passing couldn’t help but make us closer and more dependent on one another, but being treated in grown up fashion by Mom heightened my sense of us being a couple to an almost painful degree. I never let on how much my change in status affected me, how much it intensified my feelings for Mom. I tried to submerge those emotions as much as possible, concentrating on schoolwork, my part time job at Agostino’s and going out with Grace.

My sublimation must have been effective, because my grades stayed high. Shortly after the holidays, I started getting acceptances from various colleges. Those, which were more than a couple hours away, I rejected out of hand, having no intention of being any significant distance from Mom. We had one of our very rare arguments during this period when I wanted to turn down an offer to attend Georgetown

The day the letter arrived was a Friday, which meant I went straight from school to Uncle Louie’s, setting up and cleaning the dining room, checking to make sure the cooking stations were properly set up and then helping with mis en place.

When I dragged my butt home that evening, Mom was waiting in the kitchen, sitting in the nook. The minute I came through the door, I could sense her excitement. She sprang up from her chair, brandishing a thick, official looking envelope as she rushed to hug me.

“It’s wonderful news, Ricky! Just wonderful! You’ve been accepted to Georgetown! I’m so proud of you honey, just so proud!” she exclaimed, beginning to get a bit weepy.

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach, but did my best to conceal my dismay. Georgetown was, along with William and Mary and Northwestern, one of the places that was farthest away from Mom. I had only applied to them to humor her. In my heart, I had no intention of ever being that far away.

I already had acceptances in hand from Montclair State and Rutgers, but in Mom’s mind, those were, at best, second tier choices, only to be tolerated if something better failed to materialize. I considered Princeton to be an absolute pipe dream, as did Mom, so we didn’t even bother with that. I did roll the dice though, with both Columbia and NYU. At that point, I had heard nothing from either place. I was out of the time window for immediate rejection, but as yet I had no idea where I stood with those schools. The wait was killing me.

“Uhm, that’s great Mom,” I said with minimal enthusiasm.

“Ricky!” she scolded furiously. ‘What the hell is the matter with you? An acceptance from a top school with a merit scholarship, no less, and all you can do is shrug your shoulders? Jesus, anybody else would be doing cartwheels right now! What’s going on here?” she asked, eyebrows narrowing in suspicion.

“Sorry Mom, I just guess I’m a little tired,” I lied, giving her a weak, half smile.

“That’s complete and utter bullshit, Ricky,” she scolded, startling me with her profanity. Mom hardly ever swore under any circumstances and even less so at me.

“Out with it, boy. What’s on your mind? I know it’s not because you’re tired, so ‘fess up,” she pressed. “You owe me an explanation for that reaction, buster.”

I think I must have been too tired, because I spat out my answer without any thought, not taking any care to say things carefully.

“It’s too darn far, Mom! I don’t want to be so far from home! I just don’t!” I snapped angrily.

Mom sat back heavily in her chair, brow furrowed, looking me up and down with a measuring stare.

Heaving a sigh, she looked down at the tabletop, clearly struggling to find words.

Finally, she exhaled heavily and looked up, disillusionment clearly written on her face.

“I’m very disappointed, Ricky. I know how close we are, how that’s affecting your decisions and believe me, it touches me that you still feel that way, especially at your age. I treasure that more than you’ll ever know.”

“But, “she said firmly, lowering the boom,” But you’ve GOT to go to the best school you can. Just look at me, Ricky. I got off to a horrible start, but everything that I have now, all the things that are precious in my life; they come from the education I received. The professional accomplishments, my income and independence and most importantly, the good home I’ve been able to provide for my lovely son, they all come from the choices I made, to better myself, to do the best I could, from taking advantage of all my opportunities.”

“If you miss this chance, if you do one bit less than the best you can, it will break my heart,” she said heavily. “I’ll still love you. I always will, but if you deliberately settle for less than you deserve, then you’ll lose my respect. Do you really want that to happen, Ricky? Do you?”

Wow, talk about using the nuclear option. Mom surely wasn’t playing fair. She knew that the one thing in the world that I valued the most was her good opinion of me. I knew then that as much as I loved and wanted her, if she was going to be disappointed with my choice, losing faith in me, then there was not the slightest chance that we could ever be together. I felt trapped, completely hemmed in by fate.

Taking the letter from her, I quickly scanned the terms, taking a little heart. Squeezing her hand, I smiled and surrendered.

“I promise I’ll go to the best school I can, Mom,” I reassured her.

Then I threw the dice, hoping for the best.

“Mom, what if I get into NYU or Columbia? What do you think of those schools?”

“Ricky, if that happened, I’d jump all over it,” she said without hesitation.

“In a New York minute?” I joked.

Mom threw back her head and laughed delightedly, then pushed her chair back and got up, coming over to sit in my lap, kissing my forehead, arms around my neck. God, what that did to me. I wanted to bottle that moment, preserve it forever.

Trying to distract myself, I said, “Tell you what, Mom. This letter says I have two weeks to accept the offer. Can we wait that long, see if anything else happens?”

“That’s fair. But we’re agreed, right, Ricky? The best possible school?”

“It’s a deal, Mom. I promise.”

Snuggling further into my lap, Mom laid her head on my shoulder, squeezing me tight.

“You’re my wonderful, smart son. I love you, Ricky.”

“Love you too, Mom. Can I get up now? I need a shower.”

“What’s the matter, son, too much mommy mush?” she teased.

My need to get up had nothing to do with too much mush, quite the opposite. In about another five seconds, Mom was going to find her son’s cock poking her bottom, which would definitely end the evening on an awkward note.

Dissembling as I stood, I did my best parody of an embarrassed country boy, scuffing my shoes on the floor.

“Aw, gee, shucks, Ma, y’all are makin’ lil’ ole me blush.”

“Go get cleaned up, stinker,” she said warmly, swatting my butt to move me along.


I went to bed that evening satisfied that I had dodged a big bullet, but I still had no idea if either of my first choices would come through.

The very next day, I hit rock bottom. I got one of those thin little envelopes from NYU. Hands shaking as I opened it, I knew that my options were dwindling. It wasn’t an outright rejection. I was wait listed, but knowing what I did, remembering my promise to Mom, it was as good as done.

For the next week, I was on pins and needles, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t have to go to DC. With each passing day, I became more and more depressed. My schoolwork suffered and I even snapped at Mom. The Friday following the Georgetown letter came and still nothing. I went to work at Louie’s and stumbled through the evening like a robot.

When I got home though, Mom was waiting again in the kitchen, looking very serious. My heart did little flip-flops in my chest and I felt like throwing up when I saw her expression. She left me hanging for about five seconds and then drew out a large manila envelope she was hiding on her lap, a huge grin splitting her face.

“Congratulations, Ricky,” she said softly, handing it over to me.

“That was just plain mean, Mom,” I groused. “I just about had a heart attack.”

I pretended to be a bit angry with her little deception, but inside I was performing the biggest fist pump since Tiger won his first Master’s. Life was starting to look good again.

Thank god for Columbia. It was just about the only place that Mom thought was better than my other, more distant acceptances. It still wasn’t as close as I wanted, but I could sense that Mom wasn’t going to budge on this one, and besides, I had made a promise. She made herself very clear just before I signed my acceptance offer.

“Ricky, I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully. I love you dearly and would do anything for you, but you’re not going to compromise on your education. As long as I’m in control of the trust Mom and Dad set up, you will be going to the best school you can get into. And you will work hard. You will bust your ass to do well. This is the only time I’m going to say ‘my way or no way.’ Are we clear on this?”

I brought myself to an exaggerated attitude of military attention and slapped off a sardonic caricature of a Sandhurst style salute.

“Yes ma’am, absolutely ma’am.”

Mom’s eyebrows narrowed and she scowled, hands on her hips.

“Don’t get cute with me, Richard Alan Lindermann!” She snapped.

Oh God. The dreaded full name address. Every young man knows that when those words cross a mother’s lips, that the fecal material is about to hit the spinning ventilation device. I responded quickly to defuse the situation, stepping in closely. Taking her hands in mine, I kissed her cheek softly.

“I understand, Mom. I’m not going to give you a hard time. Actually, I’m very happy that I’ll be so close to home. I’m still going to need to see my favorite girl regularly, otherwise I’d be lost.”

Her features softened and her eyes moistened. She sniffed once and gave me a crooked half smile.

“Favorite girl, eh? There you go again, trying to charm my…uh, socks off.”

“Always, Mom, always.”

Abruptly, she drew me in and embraced me fiercely. The hug went on for more than a minute, her head buried on my shoulder, hands tracing my back and shoulders. Within a very short span of time, my usual problem began to declare itself and I made to disengage, but Mom wouldn’t let go. It got to the point where I gave up.

There was no way she could be unaware of my hard dick, but I mentally shrugged my shoulders and thought, “So be it,” deciding that for once, I wasn’t going to try and conceal how I felt. Instead, I concentrated on the moment, gently stroking her hair, neck and shoulders.

“I’ll always be here for you Mom.”

Finally drawing away, Mom held me at arms length, a tear running down her cheek. “I’m still going to miss you when you’re living in the dorm,” she sniffed.

“Now hold on just a second, Mom! Who said anything about living on campus?” I asked with alarm.

“Ricky! Of course you’re going to live at school!” she exclaimed in shock. “It’s an essential part of your college experience and I won’t let you short yourself on this!”

I swallowed hard and thought feverishly, trying to stave off what I considered disaster.

“But Mom, it’s not that simple. I’ve got to take the long view here.”

“What do you mean, Ricky?”

“Uh, well…it’s this way,” I temporized, thinking frantically. “Even with subsidized housing, room and board is pretty expensive. I know there’s a decent amount of money in the trust, but I still need to conserve, especially if I go on to law school or grad school.” I heaved a huge mental sigh of relief, knowing that I had improvised successfully, finding the one possible chink in Mom’s armor.

“Well, put that way, I can see your point. I guess I’ll need to think about it some more.”

“The train ride’s not bad at all, Mom. I can use the time to study and I’d be coming home on weekends anyway. Besides, I’ve really got a good gig going with Agostino’s right now too. There’s no way that any work-study job would pay as well.”

“No,” I continued with more confidence, trying to sound mature and reflective, ” I should be around to make sure that things stay fixed and make certain everything gets done right. You’ve got a lot of money tied up in the house and we should make sure that it holds its value. As the man of the house it’s the least I can do. It just wouldn’t feel right leaving you here by yourself.”

Mom was looking at me shrewdly, with a skeptically raised eyebrow, clearly dissecting my extemporaneous bullshitting.

“Using a pretty big shovel, aren’t you son?” she asked sardonically.

“I have no idea what you mean, Mom.”

“Phffftp! You don’t fool me for one minute, young man. Even so, you do make a few good points for once. Okay. You can commute.” She kissed me lightly and briefly on the lips and walked to her office, shaking her head, talking to herself.

“Man of the house, indeed!” she snorted.

“There is another reason I want to stay close, Mom,” I teased to her retreating back.

“And what would that be?” she tossed back over her shoulder.

“I’d be very, very jealous if you got yourself a new pool guy.”

“Would you, now?” she said in a coy, teasing voice.


High school graduation was bittersweet. Of course, Mom was there when I got my diploma, but the usual celebrations and festivities that typically accompany the event just hammered home Nana and Gramps’ absence to us. I really wanted nothing to do with the whole thing, but did agree to go out party hopping with Grace, my girlfriend. We lasted a couple of stops, but Gracie could tell my heart wasn’t in it. “What’s wrong Rick? You seem so down. What’s on your mind?”

I sighed. “I’m really sorry Grace. I’ve just been thinking about my grandparents, how much I wanted them to be able to see this. I’m missing them a lot right now.”

She nodded her understanding and touched my cheek. “Thinking about your Mom too?” She knew how close we were, or so she thought.

“Yeah. She’s been pretty down for the past week or so, thinking about me starting college in the fall, being alone. I worry about her.”

“I have an idea, Rick. Let’s pick up a couple of DVDs and a pizza. We’ll go back to your place and all watch the movies and pig out.”

“Are you sure Gracie? I don’t mind if you want to stay out and party tonight, I really don’t. I’ll even come back to pick you up and take you home, if you want.”

“Rick, you are so dense sometimes, I want to smack you. This is my idea. I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t want to do it. Now, are you in or not?”

I had to smile. “Grace, you are a gem and a true friend. I’m in.”

“Great. We’ll pick out the movies while we’re waiting for the pizza to be ready. You’ve been after me forever to see that French guy’s films – what was his name – Clouseau?”

“Clouzot, Henri-Georges Clouzot,” I corrected. I was a big new wave and film noir fan and his movies were among my favorites, courtesy of Mom’s tastes and influence. I had been telling her for several months about Les Diaboliques and The Wages of Fear. We were able to score both movies and brought home a nice New York style sausage and mushroom from Salerno’s. We surprised Mom in the kitchen when we arrived, interrupting her own dinner preparations.

“Ricky! What on earth are you doing home? You two are supposed to be celebrating!”

“Mom, I just couldn’t get into it this evening, I was -”

Grace cut in. “I didn’t really feel like staying out and partying either, Mrs. Lindermann. Rick has been after me forever to check out a couple movies, so I thought this would be more fun.”

“You two are very sweet to be thinking about me, but I really must insist – ”

“Mom,” I interjected. “We have a pie from Salerno’s and two movies in hand.”

Sensing defeat, Mom acquiesced gracefully. “So, what are we watching?”

Silently, I handed the DVDs to her. Her face lit up when she saw the titles and I knew I had her hooked.

“Ahhh, wonderful choices, Ricky,” she sighed. “Yves Montand’s first leading role in one and a young, gorgeous Simone Signoret in the other. Thanks so much, both of you.”

We settled into the den and devoured the pizza. Mom even let us have a glass of Bardolino each, with an “our secret” admonishment. I sat in the center of the sofa with my arms around Grace and Mom. I felt just a little guilty using Grace’s presence to justify touching the both of them, but only a little.


As my first year in college unfolded, it became clear to me that while I was going to finish and get my degree, I was most interested in actually working as a chef. I had parlayed one my summer positions in a local restaurant into some contacts in the city and decided that I was going to try to take courses at Le Cordon Bleu and the Istituto Culinario Italiano. I had eventually been awarded a merit scholarship that covered nearly all of my college tuition and with Gramp’s and Nana’s legacy, I could afford the tuition at the cooking schools as well, especially if I continued to live at home with Mom. I ended up creating an individual major in culinary history with a minor in business administration, which pleased Mom a lot. I felt that I would be in good shape for a career as an executive chef once I graduated.

While I progressed through my sophomore year, things began coming together for me. I was able to incorporate my training at Istituto Culinario Italiano and Cordon Bleu into my class and course schedule, even getting regular college credit for the work, on the condition of writing and doing research on what I was learning. It was pretty clear from the start that my time spent in the kitchen with Mom and my part time jobs at local restaurants were a huge asset. I was able to fully immerse myself in my instruction and seemed to pick up every detail without too much effort. Working under the most demanding and critical chefs I had ever seen elevated my skills to levels I could not have dreamed of just a year or two previously. My academic progress was also very good. Like the old saw goes, if you’re doing what you really love, it’s not a job.

By the halfway point of my senior year, I had standing offers to work as a line chef from several well-known restaurants in the City and a couple potentially very lucrative local possibilities as well. It was a heady experience, reveling in the absolute confidence that I had the right stuff to compete and succeed at the highest level of my chosen profession.

Through all this, I continued to live at home; my thoughts always still with Mom, but stuck adoring her from a filial distance. After Gramps and Nana’s passing, we became even closer than before, but I could sense Mom’s emotional fragility. I absolutely burned to hold her in my arms, to tell her the deepest, forbidden longings from my secret heart, but I somehow knew that she would not be able to cope with such an outpouring.

You would think that coping with this seemingly endless frustration would have put me in a professional as well as personal funk, but surprisingly, that wasn’t the case. My work in the kitchen was as good as, if not better than ever, because I was subconsciously pouring my bottled up passion into my work. I was taking bold risks and seemed to be in the midst of a burst of creativity that I had not experienced before. It was in this period that I came up with many of the ideas that helped launch my career a few years later.

On the romantic front, I suffered in silence, finding some shallow solace in the arms of a number of girls and one of my professors at the U, but I could not bring myself to fully consummate those relationships. It was totally irrational, madly unrealistic and definitely obsessive, but I still wanted Mom. If I couldn’t have her, then I didn’t want another girl or woman that way. Short of that, I knew that I needed some release besides Rosie Palmer, but that was as far as I wanted to take things. I developed considerable affection for several of my stand-in partners, but I knew they would never have my heart. As callous as it sounds, on one level, these other girls and ladies were almost practice for me.

As my graduation approached, I became enveloped in a sense of great lethargy and more than a little depression. My working life awaited me. I knew that I would probably have to move to the City, and although it was not far from Mom, I dreaded the upcoming change. I felt that once I moved out, there was no absolutely no chance that I would ever be with Mom as I dreamed for so many years. In my darkest moments, lying awake in my bed, I told myself that even now, in the last days of my time with my mother, there was no chance for us. Objectively, I had to admit that Mom had always seemed appropriate and in control when we were together, but I could not shake the deep-seated intuition that she shared at least some of my feelings. I could not purge myself of this belief, even though I had to admit that it was most likely the by-product of my long-standing, unrequited love, rather than a realistic analysis of Mom’s behavior. Still, it seemed to me that she was also more down than she should have been, considering that I was still going to be less than an hour’s train ride from her when I started working.

My graduation came and went, and I begged off on accepting any job offers, saying I wanted a bit of time off. The ambitious nature of my individual major had necessitated spending a substantial portion of each preceding summer taking extra courses, and what little time was left I utilized working in various kitchens in the City, building my skills and more importantly, my contacts. I knew the job opportunities were still there for me, so I felt no rush. I still hoped against all odds that Mom and I would come together before the summer was over, but I had steeled myself for disappointment.


It was then a great surprise to me to see a real glimmer of hope after my graduation dinner celebration with Mom. We had gone to one of our favorite trattorias in Tribeca and had a wonderful meal. I was known there through a number of mutual friends shared with the sous chef, so we had the special treat of a completely off-menu tasting meal, consisting of 8 courses of small dishes from the chef’s native Umbria, along with a flight of 5 or 6 different wines. Mom was outwardly upbeat, telling me how proud she was of my accomplishments and how much Nana and Gramps would have loved to see how I turned out. When the meal was over, Mom offered to help me paint the town red, but I declined, definitely in a bittersweet mood.

“Honestly, Mom, I don’t feel like partying. If you want to know, I’d be perfectly happy to go home and watch a movie with you.”

“The City is at your feet tonight, and all you can think of to do is go home with your old Mom and watch TV?”

“I get more pleasure out of munching popcorn with my special lady than any 10 clubs, Mom. And for the 5000th time, you are NOT old.”

“Awww, you’re still my sweet guy after all these years. You know just what to say to your mother. It’s a date.”

We made our way home, making unusually good cab and train connections, arriving back at the family manse in less than 45 minutes. It was a quintessentially beautiful mid-May evening, the evening air just short of shirtsleeve temperature. The sky was crystalline and a waning gibbous moon hung in the sky over our roof. As we strolled up the walkway to let ourselves in, we could smell a hint of lilac in the air from our neighbor’s yard and hear the sporadic chirps of crickets. Mom sighed and linked her arm in mine, leaning her head against my shoulder. “It’s been a wonderful evening, Ricky. I’m so happy for you and so proud of you I could burst. You have grown into such a fine young man.”

“Thanks, Mom. It’s all your doing. I owe everything to you. You’re my touchstone and inspiration.”

“You’re also a smooth talking little devil when you want to be,” she giggled.

“I’m serious, Mom. You have no idea how much you mean to me. I’m very lucky to be your son.”

“Thank you, sweetie. I could say the same.”

After we got inside, I changed quickly into my at home uniform of gym shorts and a t-shirt, then headed into the kitchen to fire up the microwave. As the popcorn cooked, I scanned the channels, looking for something suitable. Recalled to the kitchen by the ding of the microwave, I returned with the hot popcorn. Mom was now seated on the sofa, wearing a pair of pastel green man pajamas, legs curled under her as she scanned the TV menu.

“There’s a great double feature on the Movie Classics Channel, Mom. How does ‘Double Indemnity’ followed by ‘Some Like it Hot’ sound?”

Mom laughed and patted the sofa next to her. “Perfect! Come sit with your Momma and we’ll do justice to that popcorn.”

I settled in next to her as we watched Barbara Stanwyck’s interpretation of evil personified and the ensnarement of the hapless Fred MacMurray in her treacherous designs. Gripped in the storyline, we were on the edge of our seats for the entire movie.

“Some Like It Hot” was a perfect counterpoint to the first feature and although we could practically recite the lines to each other from memory, it suited us down to the ground. About the time Tony Curtis invites Marilyn onto “his” yacht, Mom snuggled up next to me, putting my arm over her shoulder. She reached across her chest to put her hand over mine, pressing it into place on her arm, giving it a squeeze. She sighed contentedly, laying her head on my chest.

I was elated, but confused. Of course, I was also hard. Carbide steel hard. One thing that had not changed throughout the years since Gramps and Nan’s passing was what any touch from her did to me.

I couldn’t remember the last time Mom was so physically affectionate with me, even in such a harmless way. Since high school, I had grown so used to keeping everything bottled up, minimizing our physical contact to the most innocent essentials, that I was unprepared for the closeness Mom was displaying that evening. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what had changed, but I was perfectly happy to roll with it. By the time the movie was over, Mom’s other hand was casually resting on my thigh, much to my utter delight and increasing bewilderment.

As the credits rolled, Mom disengaged herself from me and rose, stretching like a big she-cat. As she raised her arms above her head, the pajama tops rode up briefly, exposing her navel and midriff for a moment. I was utterly captivated and powerfully aroused in seconds. It put me very much in the mind of that time in our kitchen when I was 15, when I first realized I had fallen in love with her.

“I’m for bed, kiddo. I’ve got to be in the office tomorrow at 9:30 for a deposition.” Reaching out to me, she grabbed my wrists, pulling me up insistently. “C’mon, on your feet lazybones, it’s late and we both need our sleep.” As confused as I was by the unfolding events of the evening, I was even less prepared for what happened next.

Placing her hands on my shoulders, she leaned towards me and briefly but firmly kissed me on the lips. “I had a wonderful evening, Ricky. Thank you so much for everything.” She turned from me and headed upstairs towards her room.

If I was confused before, now I was dumbfounded. I must have been standing there looking like a gaffed catfish, because Mom looked over her shoulder and laughed. “Hit the sack buster, I’ve got a big honey-do list for you tomorrow.”

In a complete and utter daze, I completed my evening ablutions and stumbled into bed. Sleep was long in coming as I turned over the night’s events in my head. I had no idea what was happening between us, but I did know one thing for certain – something had changed. Beyond that, I simply couldn’t process what had occurred. As unexpected and delightfully as things had turned out, I was very nervous.

Against all precautions of self-control and discipline, the near-dead embers of my hopes and fantasies had briefly flared to life tonight and I knew I couldn’t survive another disappointment. My rational self knew I should slam the door on those feelings immediately, to save myself any further pain, but I simply couldn’t do that. I was like a gambling addict, telling myself again and again that the next hand I was dealt was going to be the big winner, even when all of my experience pointed in the opposite direction.

My dreams that night were fragmented, disorganized and filled with a strange combination of gloomy foreboding and exhilarating foreshadowing. One vignette remains clearly etched in my memory to this day, though.

Mom and I were having a picnic on a rocky beach. The sun shone brightly in a sky rapidly clearing of clouds and coastal fog, but the air was crisp and cool with a stiff onshore breeze that tugged at our clothing as we shared ham sandwiches and cold beer, sitting on a partially buried, bleached tree trunk. The turbulent gusts blew Mom’s hair back from her forehead and her cheeks were rosy with a slight windburn. She laughed, her hand in mine as we watched four children playing at the waterline, three girls and one boy. They roughhoused at the edge of the breaking waves, trying to push each other into the water, their gleeful cries blending with the pounding rhythm of the surf and the screeching of gulls overhead, hovering in the strong wind. Somehow, I knew without any doubt or question that the children were ours.

I roused with a start. Sunlight was streaming into my room, illuminating suspended motes of dust, which moved lazily in the air currents from my open window. As I awoke more fully, the last fragment of my dream did not fade, but rather came to full, lucid recollection. In all the long nights of my short life, I had never experienced a dream like this one. The details were so clear, so immediate and so powerful that they had the force of actual memory.

I’d never been a big believer in predestination or fate. While I am a romantic by inclination, I always thought that we make our own lives, putting in long hours, making sacrifices and taking chances to shape our future. I know that everything that I’d accomplished and what Mom had achieved had its roots firmly in the soil of hard work and seized opportunities. And yet…as I lay beneath my sheets, I had the overwhelming sense that I had somehow glimpsed a small fragment of my true future.

Donning my typical shorts and t-shirt, I padded downstairs. As usual, Mom had beaten me to the kitchen and already had a pot of coffee ready. Leaning slightly against the kitchen countertop, she was eating some yogurt, a partially devoured piece of toast on a plate next to her.

She was dressed to the nines this morning, wearing a form-fitting, calf length, black pencil skirt, slit to the lower thigh, with sheer, shiny black hose underneath. Her blouse was jade green silk. It was slightly V-cut in front, revealing a hint of décolletage. I had the subliminal impression of a sheer, pushup bra underneath. An elegant black blazer to match her skirt was draped over a chair in the breakfast nook. Once again, I was pierced to the heart, adoring my beautiful mom.

“Wow, you look fabulous, Mom! I thought you had a deposition today?”

“Precisely. I never waste any of the resources I have at my disposal. I always play to win, bucko,” she said crisply.

“Well, if I may be so bold, you’ve got quite the arsenal there, counselor. Let me guess – your adversary today is probably a younger man, maybe a junior associate or something like that. You’re planning to distract him before you cut him to ribbons.”

Mom came to my side and kissed my cheek. “You’re incorrigible, sweet talking your Mom like that,” she said with a wink, tossing her hair ostentatiously.

Changing gears, she then said, “If you have time, I made a list of a few things that need doing before the weekend, can you handle that?”

“Yes’m. At yoah disposal, Mizz Mom.”

“Thanks sweetie. If you can take me to the station, you can use the car, ‘kay?”

“Sweet. Ready to go when you are, my lady.”

As I drove Mom to the station, we chatted amiably about the upcoming weekend and her plans to dazzle her inexperienced adversary at the deposition. When we pulled up to the drop-off lane, Mom gave my arm a squeeze and kissed me lightly on my lips – again! As I sat there behind the wheel, a big goofy grin on my face, I slowly licked my lips, detecting the very slightest taste of her. Lost in the moment, I was roughly returned to reality by horns honking behind me. As the drivers behind me blared their displeasure at my inattention, Mom turned to look over her shoulder at me just before she passed through the turnstiles. I thought I detected a small, enigmatic smile before she was lost to my view in the crush of the morning commute.

I drove home slowly and automatically, barely aware of traffic and stoplights. I didn’t fully regain my foothold in this world until I was in our driveway. I sat in the car for some time, blissfully recalling those two kisses. What I felt was the slightest ray of hope yesterday evening had bloomed into a dazzling beacon this morning. I could think of no explanation for the amazing turn of events in the last 12 hours, except that Mom must have some feelings for me as well!

I was so giddy with excitement and elation that I could hardly think straight, but I knew I had to figure out what I was going to do. I had no idea where things were going, but one thing I was sure of was that Mom could not be pushed or manipulated in any way. There was no question that she was too strong willed and too perceptive to be maneuvered by anything I did. She knew me far too well to be taken in by any devious strategy I might employ to bring us together.

I was going to have to wait, however long it took, for her to come to me. I felt as though I would go mad with the anticipation, but I also knew I had waited eight endless years to get to this point. For the first time in my life, it felt as though Mom and I could really be together. Even so, my newly resurrected optimism was tempered by the fact that I knew Mom would want to be in complete control of anything that might come to pass for the two of us.

What was needed right now was distraction. Sitting in the kitchen, I looked at Mom’s to-do list. Clean the pool; check the chemistry and change filters. Mow the lawn and weed the mulch beds. Fix the lock on the back door, which was sticking. Pick up dry cleaning and go to the supermarket. Trim the hedges. I buckled down and got to my business. I busted my ass all day and just had time to grab a shower before heading over to the station to pick up Mom.

When Mom settled in next to me in the car, I tested the waters a little bit by pulling her close to me for a hug. She quickly set the tone, pointedly only offering her cheek for a kiss and then sat back. Okay, fine, just as I thought. Mom is definitely going to be the one leading this dance. Time to be patient.

“So, how was the deposition?”

Mom laughed ruefully. “Best laid plans and all that. I may as well have worn a potato sack. The boy-lawyer was there with one of the senior partners of his firm. The partner took one look at me and sent junior out for coffee and I had to go toe to toe with the old guy. It was brutal, but we came through pretty well. Everything else today was pretty routine.”

Changing the subject, I inquired, “What would you like to do for dinner?”

“Just feed me and I’ll be happy, sweetie. I’m going to have a glass of wine and a nice soak in the tub before dinner, though. Okay?”

“Sure, Mom. I figured to make a Caesar and grill a little salmon, keep it real simple.”

“That would be perfect, Ricky. Want to watch another movie tonight?”

“Absolutely. Do you have anything in mind?”

“Terms of Endearment is showing on HBO, is that okay?”

I sighed inwardly. Another chick flick, but what the heck, I didn’t really care, as long as I was with Mom. “Fine by me – it’s a date.”

Mom had her soak and we ate dinner. On top of the long day’s work, I probably shouldn’t have yielded to temptation and had the extra glass of Chardonnay with the meal, because I nodded off about 10 minutes into the movie.

When I faded back in, my head was in Mom’s lap. She was looking at me with a wistful smile, running her fingers through my hair. “My little boy is all grown now – a typical man. Show him a romantic film and he’s out like a light in 10 seconds flat.”

“Sorry, Mom. I was more tired than I thought. I probably shouldn’t have had that second glass of wine.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. You just relax, let your Mom reminisce a little while.”

Mom ran her fingers lightly over my face, brushing them over my forehead, down the bridge of my nose and along my cheeks. “When you were little, I used to do this to help you sleep when you were sick,” she whispered, smiling warmly.

“Mmmm…feels nice, Mom.”

She continued for some minutes, one hand cradled behind my neck as she traced my features. It was absolute bliss and I surrendered myself totally to the moment, memorizing every sensation. I had never felt so relaxed, so loved. I drifted off again, only to wake with a start as the credits of the movie were rolling. Mom was also dozing, her head slightly lolling to the side, the back of my neck still resting on her forearm. Her other hand was relaxed palm down on my chest, directly over my heart. I was completely quiet for several minutes, savoring the perfection of the moment. As I lay in her lap, I began to feel a familiar stirring in the south forty. Not wanting Mom to be aware, I shifted slightly, but she awoke with a start.

“Goodness, I really dozed off too, didn’t I?” she exclaimed.

I took her hand from my chest and kissed it. It was done chastely, with affection, but I noticed Mom drew her breath in a bit as my lips lingered just the slightest amount. “It was really nice just to sit with you tonight, Mom. It was special, like old times.”

We roused ourselves from the sofa and made our way upstairs. Mom went into her bedroom and closed the door behind her, no kiss for me this evening. Heaving a sigh, I went to my bathroom to take a shower and get ready for bed. When I came out, drying my hair with a towel, I was enveloped in silence. I could hear every small noise of the house, from the dripping of a faucet in the kitchen to the ticking of our grandfather clock in the foyer. There was a feeling of strange tension, of hushed expectation in the air. I had a weird premonition that something, I knew not what, but something was going to happen.

As I passed through the tight, constrained silence of the hallway, going by Mom’s door, I heard the faint creak of her bed frame and a soft sigh. Hardly daring to breath, I paused. The silence around me was oppressive, alive and pregnant with possibility and anticipation.

Then I heard it again, another soft, drawn out exhalation of erotic delight.

Although I had relieved myself in the shower, hearing Mom, imagining what was happening on the other side of the threshold had me sporting a railroad spike in seconds. Shifting my weight with the greatest of care, I brought my ear close to the door. I could hear a very faint squeaking of her mattress and an occasional quiet moan.

I was so aroused, I was practically catatonic, my hand irresistibly drawn to my now-rampant penis. As I listened to Mom pleasure herself, I stroked myself furiously. I was nowhere near close to my own release, having just brought myself off in the shower. It was then I heard her voice, just above a whisper. “Oh God. Oh my God! Oh God! Ohhhh, Ricky, baby, Mommy’s commiinnnngggg!”

Those whispered, barely audible words were a blinding, searing bolt direct to the pleasure center of my brain, cutting completely across the chaos of my thoughts and emotions, striking home with the accuracy of a sniper’s bullet. I came on the spot, ejaculating so powerfully that my seed must have flown 3 feet across the carpet. My leg buckled and I almost fell to my knees. When I returned to my senses, the danger of my position hit me and I scrambled to silently towel up my mess and get back to my room undetected. Lying in bed, I was actually trembling with the intensity of the memory. I couldn’t get Mom’s voice out of my head and it took every ounce of my self-control to keep from going straight to her room. To this day, I can still hear her calling out softly at the peak of her pleasure.

Things continued for about another month in this fashion, the occasional kiss and listening at Mom’s door when I could get away with it. Don’t get me wrong; even though things seemed to be moving a glacial pace, but compared to just a few short months ago, the difference in my life was night and day. It’s amazing what even the smallest shred of hope can do for your outlook.


“What do you say, Mom? How about we go out tomorrow and see the celebration at Riverside Park? I’m thinking I’ll pack a picnic and we’ll have a late supper and listen to the bands before the fireworks.”

“So, is this supposed to be a date, then?”

“Nah, not a date – just a basic 4th of July celebration with my lovely mother. What could be more traditional, more American than that?”

“I’ll have to check with my social secretary to see if I can clear a spot for you, but I’ll tentatively say yes – but only because you’re family.” She spoke with mock gravity, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

“I’m very relieved that I’m still in your good graces,” I shot back with theatric sarcasm.

“Being a smart-aleck will not advance your cause, young man. I bet I could still paddle you for your insolence.”

“I will submit myself to your discipline if you promise to wear five inch heels and fishnets when you spank me,” I teased.

Mom’s eyes widened briefly in surprise at my reply, but it was simply such an outrageous, over-the-top response that in the end, she couldn’t take it seriously.

She threw back her head and laughed, “You wish, brat!”


The Fourth dawned heavily in muggy fashion, the sunrise cloaked by an army of rapidly forming thunderheads. The sky glowered with the promise of a drenching downpour. As I sat up in bed, already slightly sweaty, I could see towering, gray-black nimbus clouds moving in rapidly from the east, foreshadowing the thunderstorms we could expect during the day. I hoped that the passing front would make the evening more pleasant.

Slipping on shorts and a tank top, I went downstairs. Mom was still in bed, her door closed. I put a pot of coffee on and then heard Mom’s shower start up. I cut up some fresh fruit while I was waiting for her to come down and made some toast. She came down to the kitchen wearing one of my very favorite outfits, denim shorts and a men’s white oxford shirt, tied off above her midriff.

“Morning, Mom. Ready for some breakfast?”

“Oh, thanks so much, sweetie, you didn’t need to do that.” I set a bowl of fruit and some of the toast in front of her, along with a mug of coffee. “Mmmmm, fresh peaches, I love it.”

“First local fruit of the season, Mom. I picked them up at the farmer’s market yesterday. They looked too good to pass up, especially knowing how much you like them.”

“You spoil me rotten, Ricky.” She became melancholy for a moment. “It’s going to be very lonely around here when you start working in September.”

“We’ll talk about that later, Mom. Today is today and I’m planning to enjoy it. I think we’ll have a good time this evening.”

At that moment, Mom cringed, as we were startled by a brilliant, searing flash of lightning and an instantaneous thunderclap. It was so loud, the dishes and glasses rattled in their cabinets. Then the rain began, a steady hiss as the large, fat drops began to spatter on our roof and the street, gradually building into a gentle roar of white noise. In a matter of moments, the far side of the street was obscured behind a gray veil as the heavens poured wet rage on us.

“Wow, that was a real close one, Mom.”

“I hope that’s not an omen for tonight, Ricky.”

“Not a chance, Mom. I checked the forecast earlier. This will pass through and we’ll have a beautiful evening for the fireworks.”

Mom looked out the window and grimaced. “Damn, I was hoping it would hold off at least a little while. I’ve got to go out.”

“Need any help?”

“No thanks, I’m planning to do some clothes shopping.”

“Okeydokey. I’ll get to work on our picnic.”

“Don’t make a big production out of it, Ricky. I’m easy to please.”

“And I always like pleasing you. It’ll be nice and simple, Mom – I promise I won’t go overboard. Drive carefully and take an umbrella, okay?”

Mom nodded and gave me a light peck on the lips. I gave her a big, goofy grin and a bigger hug. She grinned back, ruffled my hair and headed to the garage.

I got a lot of mileage out of that brief kiss. A mooncalf smile remained plastered on my face for much of the rainy, noisy morning as I put our meal together. About three hours later, Mom returned, just as I was putting the food in the fridge. She was soaked to the skin, laughing as she wrung out her hair in the semi-dark garage doorway.

I tossed her a kitchen towel for her hair. “Ummm, Mom, was there some part of ‘take an umbrella’ that you didn’t understand?”

“Don’t start in on me, young man. I did take one. I just left it behind by mistake when I got to the mall. As I was walking back out to the car, I got drenched.”

I sighed theatrically. “You can lead a horse to water…”

“Enough! Any more comments and I’ll string you up by your thumbs, young man!”

“Will you be wearing those spiked heels and fishnets when you do it?”

Laughing again, Mom threw the towel back at me without warning and caught me across the face. As she stepped out of the shadows of the hallway, I noticed for the first time that her shirt was soaked. Actually, what I really noticed was that she was (holy shit!) not wearing a bra! The damp, slightly transparent material of the shirt molded her curves perfectly and her nipples partially showed through the wet material, poking out stiffly like delectable, small strawberries. I could also see the faint shadows of her unencumbered breasts swaying freely under the material of her shirt as she strode past me. In all our years together, I had never seen her without one. How could I not have noticed that this morning? Searching my memory, I could only conclude that she had taken it off while shopping. And if she took it off shopping, what had she bought that would require her to be braless? My imagination whirled with possibilities and speculations.

I must have been totally absorbed in my lustful thoughts, because as she passed, Mom poked me in the ribs, bringing me back to the present. “I’m going to take another shower and put on some dry clothes.”

Before she could get away, I grabbed her by her arm and pulled her towards me. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise at my boldness, but I defused things a little by kissing her cheek, saying, “Mom, without a doubt, you are the most gorgeous drowned rat I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

My eyes were wholly focused on her beautiful breasts as I spoke. Suddenly remembering I was staring, I glanced back to her face, realizing at once she knew where I was looking. There was a small, half smile on her lips. I blushed so hard I thought I would start smoking.

“God, Mom, I’m sor…”

She smiled warmly and stilled me by placing her finger on my lips. “Don’t apologize, Ricky. Thank you for the compliment,” she murmured, her gaze drifting down from my face to her chest and back again. A touch to my cheek and another quick kiss on my lips and she whisked out of the room, grabbing her shopping bags as she headed upstairs, hips swaying. I watched her depart; rooted to the spot, my cock so hard I thought it would split my shorts. I’m not sure, but I might have drooled on the kitchen linoleum.

Once I heard Mom in the shower, I raced up to my bathroom for some sorely needed relief. Replaying Mom’s return in my head, I lasted about 30 seconds, spraying a huge load all over the sink and vanity. Groaning, I dropped to my hands and knees, “OOhhhhh my goddddddd, Moooom!” I took me several minutes to regain my breath and composure to the point where I could clean up my mess. I decided to stay in my room, futzing around with my computer the rest of the afternoon. I frankly did not trust myself to be around her before we left for our picnic. At that moment, I was actually afraid of the love and lust in my heart. I felt like I was holding onto my self-control by my fingernails.

After a geologic epoch or two, it was finally time to head out to the park. I went downstairs, noticing that Mom’s bedroom door was closed. I could hear her changing, humming to herself as she completed her preparations. I went into the kitchen and gathered our food into the hamper, then settling myself into the breakfast nook to wait. When she came down the stairs, I jumped to my feet in surprise, slack-jawed with amazement.

She was wearing a new sundress, made of some gauzy white material overlaid with a tropical floral print pattern, a riot of brilliant greens, yellows, orange and magenta. A single broad band of the same material looped up from the front of her bodice, around the back of her neck and down the other side to reunite again with the front of the dress. The bodice itself was low cut and square, showing an enticing, but not excessive amount of cleavage. The dress ended just and inch or so above her knees, showing her marvelous legs to great advantage.

Without a doubt, it was the most alluring, most risqué thing I had ever seen Mom wear. In actuality, the dress didn’t reveal that much, but what it suggested and hinted at beneath the fabric was what made it so damn sexy. It suited her down to the ground and left me stunned. It was a minor miracle I didn’t outright drool when I saw her in it. Mom was a BABE!

Laughing delightedly, she pirouetted, the hem of the dress swirling provocatively up to mid thigh as she turned. As she came back to rest in front of me, her breasts wobbled slightly beneath the bodice, obviously braless.

“I take it I have my son’s approval for my choice of wardrobe?”

“Wow,” I croaked, finally finding my voice.

“That’s it, just one word?”

Regaining a little of my composure, I advanced to her and took both her hands in mine, kissing her cheek. “Mom, I can’t remember ever seeing you so beautiful. You look absolutely spectacular,” I said quietly, eyes wide with amazement at her transformation.

“I’m very glad you like it, Ricky. I knew the minute I saw it that it was perfect for our little picnic.” Linking her left arm in mine and placing her right hand on my biceps, she pulled me towards the garage. “Let’s go, sweetheart. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

We made our way to the park with the windows down, the air having cooled considerably since the front roared through. The overarching thunderheads on the back edge of the passing weather were catching the low afternoon rays of the setting sun, taking on a gilt orange glow against the deep blue of the summer sky. It reminded me of the aureate ambience of an old Maxfield Parrish painting.

As we drove down the recently rain-slicked streets, tires occasionally splashing in puddles, both of us silent, Mom had her hand on the back of my neck, idly toying with the hair at its nape, twirling it in her fingers. I sat quietly, savoring her contact with me, afraid to speak and break the mood. Still not speaking, Mom’s touching of my neck slowly transformed into more of an overt caress, sending a shiver down my spine. A distinct element of tension crept into the air as we finally pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the park, the loud crunching of gravel under the tires suddenly jerking us back out of the moment.

“Well, here we are,” I announced lamely.

We made our way across a wide, verdant expanse of grass and up a small rise, to a slightly secluded knoll overlooking the river, nestled among several venerable oaks. It was perfectly cool in the shade of the trees. Unfolding one of our old blankets, I handed the picnic basket to Mom and gestured to our spot. “Madame’s table is ready.”

“Goody, let’s see what my talented chef-son has prepared for us, ” Mom said eagerly, as she gracefully knelt down next to me, inspecting the contents of the hamper. “Ahhh, cold roast chicken rubbed with herbs, yummy. And…green salad with a nice vinaigrette, some bruschetta with pesto and…mmmmm, a nice cold Fume Blanc. Thanks so much sweetheart – it’s wonderful,” she declared, kissing my cheek.

We sat, semi-reclining in the shade, our elbows just touching as we ate in silence and sipped our wine, watching joggers and cyclists on the path below us and scullers and casual boaters traversing the river, just visible in the shadows and fading light. We talked of inconsequential matters, recounting the mundane details of our recent activities and immediate plans for the coming days, interspersed with comments on the scene and people below us, simply enjoying our shared time together.

The gloaming slowly swallowed up the details of the landscape around us, Mom shivering slightly in the cooling air. I got out another blanket and pulled it around us, Mom snuggling up against me as I put an arm around her shoulders. Our conversation dwindled to a warm, comfortable silence and we sat for some time, enjoying the sounds of the evening as darkness enveloped the park.

As the first frogs and fireflies of the evening made themselves known, Mom looked around us carefully and then turned from under my arm and sat up straight so she was facing me. Reaching behind my head with her hand, she again caressed the nape of my neck. Drawing her face close to mine, she looked steadily into my eyes, took a very deep, almost shuddering breath and without a word, planted a firm, lingering kiss on my lips, watching me intently the whole time.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement of some magnitude. Poleaxed comes a little closer to what I felt at that instant. Eyes wide with shock, I croaked, “Mom…?”

Placing her index finger on my lips, she silenced me.

“Shhhh, darling son. No words, just kiss me,” she gently demanded, her expression a curious, compelling mix of passion, maternal warmth and vulnerable anxiety.

Hardly daring to breath, I leaned forward, carefully brushing my lips against hers, watching her face. She smiled gently and returned the pressure, our mouths now lightly joined, the touch exquisite. Our eyes closed at the same time and we continued for a subjective decade, both of us totally lost in the tender intensity of the moment. I placed a hand on her cheek, slowly, gently tracing her jaw line with my thumb. At that point, we both ran out of oxygen, breaking the kiss. My fingers and toes were tingling. Chests heaving, we locked eyes, sighing and smiling at the same moment. Brushing her bangs from her forehead, I bent to Mom again slowly brushing my lips against hers, gradually increasing the intensity of the kiss.

“Mmmmmmmm,” she murmured, leaning into me. I felt her lips parting ever so slightly. I did the same, heart in my throat, as I waited for her response. It seemed as though my entire chest would burst from the tension.

Then it happened. Her tongue slipped out, barely brushing my lips. Opening wider, my heart hammering, I ventured forth slowly, nervously, seeking her out. My emotions were in absolute chaos. One moment, I was mentally doing handsprings, thinking to myself, “Yes! It’s really happening! Yes! YES! YES!!!” In the next instant, I was beside myself with anxiety, worrying “Oh God, please, Oh God, don’t let it stop, don’t let me screw this up, please ohgodohpleaseohgod.”

Then the tips of our tongues touched and my world changed forever.

We continued, very delicately and lightly exploring, tongues barely gliding over each other in a warm, liquid waltz, a dance as old as time itself, but as new and novel to me as anything I had ever experienced. Slowly, our lips slid over each other, gradually gaining intensity and urgency. I wanted the moment to extend to the end of the universe, but I eventually had to come up for air. Breaking our union, I took in a gulping breath, grimacing nervously as I tried to take everything in. Mom was regarding me quietly, her hands finding mine, smiling gently, her eyes sparkling. Her obvious composure and serenity calmed me and I gradually relaxed, savoring how right it all felt.

Reaching out, I pulled her back to me and kissed her again. Our mouths glided over each other, pressing, tongues touching, releasing, and pressing together again. With a small moan, Mom pressed against me, her arms going around my shoulders, her tongue now insistently seeking mine. Groaning in return, I pulled her tighter against me, our mouths pressed tightly together, tongues lashing each other frantically. I reclined onto our blanket, pulling her down with me. We lay on our sides, facing each other as we broke our kiss. Mom reached out to touch my cheek.

At that moment, I was torn in two, standing on a great divide. Against all odds, I had finally arrived at the gateway of all my fantasies, but my conscience was putting up a last, desperate stand, seeming to ask me, “Think, Ricky, for God’s sake, think. Is this what you really want? You can’t go back from here if you don’t stop, too much will change, forever.”

I sucked in a shuddering breath and took her hand in mine. “Mom…. I…I’ve waited… so long…” my voice catching, then trailing off to a plaintive whisper.

“Shhh, sweetheart. I know,” she said tenderly. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time too.”

“You wanted to…” I began incredulously.

“Hush, sweet boy,” she whispered, gently placing her index finger on my lips to quiet me.

She silenced me further by pulling me close and latching on to my lips again. I thought our previous kiss was exciting, but I had no idea. Mom’s lips pressed against mine with urgency, her mouth opening wide as her tongue sought mine. As I responded, she sucked my tongue into her mouth, holding my head in both of her hands, practically devouring me.

Before that moment, if I ever had any perception of my mother as some idealized porcelain figure, to be cherished and treated delicately, I was quickly set straight about those notions. I was in the arms of a fiery, passionate creature, who was most definitely warm flesh and hot blood. It was absolutely breathtaking, and it only got better.

Mom slipped her arms around my shoulders, rolling over on top of me, our tongues dancing, probing, advancing and retreating in a moist arabesque. I could feel the incredible, soft pressure of her unencumbered breasts against my chest and the weight of her hips against my straining cock. Her pelvis was close against me with the slightest amount of pressure and motion, stimulating me unbearably. I was utterly spellbound, the intensity of the instant almost forcing me into an out of body experience.

We separated, breath ragged and chests heaving, eyes locked on each other. Placing my hand around her neck, I pulled her towards me. Mom seemed to not want me to speak, so I tried to let my actions do the talking. I kissed her forehead, cheeks and the bridge of her nose lightly before returning to her full, moist lips. Leaning into her slightly, not demanding, I refrained from using my tongue, simply pressing tenderly, withdrawing and pressing lightly again, acquainting myself with the details of her mouth, committing all the wonderful details to memory, watching her intently all the while. When I stopped, she sighed happily and laid her head on my chest. I simply held her, stroking her hair, soaking up our closeness. We continued our embrace for some time, not speaking.

Lost in our private world, we were startled as the first fireworks of the evening thundered into the sky across the river. I rolled onto my side and drew Mom up underneath my arm so we could watch the show, placing my other hand on hers, intertwining our fingers.

After a while, Mom turned to face me. “Well, Ricky, was this what you expected?”

“Mom…I have dreamed of this at least ten thousand times since I was 15,” I croaked hoarsely, a hitch in my voice. “I imagined it so often, I thought I knew what it would be like, but I didn’t have a freakin’ clue. I have never, ever been kissed like that before.”

I shuddered, gulping in a great lung full of air.

“I hope you know what you’ve done to me. I’m a goner now – officially ruined for all other women.”

“Mmmm, you say the sweetest things to your Mom.” Brushing my hair off my forehead, she smiled again. “You’re not so bad yourself, sport. You make my toes tingle.”

Glancing at my lap, Mom shook her head, reaching for a napkin. At first I thought she was looking at the railroad spike I was sporting in my pants, but she surprised me.

Tsking under her breath, she flicked her napkin on my thighs, chiding me, saying, “Jesus, Ricky, you’re covered in crumbs. Men are such messy eaters,” she scolded, pretending to be exasperated. “Don’t you dare let that crud get on my nice new dress, you big slob.”

Smiling apologetically, I drew her back to me and kissed her again. This time, I sought her in a more insistent way, searching for her tongue immediately, drawing her into my mouth, savoring her taste as we explored each other’s mouths. As our kiss deepened in its intensity and passion, I began stroking her back and sides. She moaned into my mouth. “Ohhhh, Ricky, baby….” Emboldened, I reached up to gently to cup her breast, delicately tracing my fingertips on her heavy softness.

Sighing with pleasure, she gently disengaged my hand, and kissed it, holding it between us. “There’s no rush, darling. Could we please take things slow and easy?”

I struggled mightily to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “Okay, Mom.”

Kissing my cheeks, Mom looked at me intently. “We took a huge step tonight, Ricky. I just need to work through this a bit at a time. Things are more complicated for me than they might seem. I hope you’ll give me a little room, a little time…”

I brought her close again and hugged her, burying my face in her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom. I love you and wouldn’t do a thing to hurt you, ever. I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

“You’re my sweet young man, and I love you too. I’m so glad to be here with you now, like this.”

I rolled onto my back, bringing her on top of me, giggling. Giving her a big, smacking burlesque of a kiss, I savored our contact. I knew Mom could probably feel my erection, which was pulsing unmercifully in my shorts, but I didn’t care. I needed her to know how I felt now, to know how much she excited me, to know that it was waiting there, for her to have when and however she wanted it.

Laughing, she reached down to my sides and tickled me until I was squirming underneath her and then rolled off so she was on her side again, facing me. I sat up and reached out to her. “Come sit with me, Mom,” I entreated, drawing her on to my lap. She settled in with her arms around my neck while I wrapped mine around her waist.

We sat that way for the rest of the fireworks, kissing from time to time, randomly alternating between sweet, affectionate pecks and wide-mouthed, tongue lashing, madly passionate clinches, as the mood took us. The fact that she was sitting on my rock hard cock didn’t seem to faze her at all.

All too soon, the show was over. Still perched in my lap, Mom held my face in her hands, her eyes warmly searching mine, seemingly for any doubt or regret. Apparently satisfied, she rummaged in her purse for a Kleenex. She moistened the small paper square with the condensation on the wine bottle and gently scrubbed my face with it, saying, “I made a bit of a mess with you, Ricky. My lipstick’s everywhere. Let me clean my boy up.”

My face once again suitable for public viewing, we got up, dusted ourselves off and repacked the hamper. I folded the blankets over one arm and we walked back to the car, hand in hand.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, I put Mom under my arm, draping it over her shoulder. She settled against me with a contented sigh. We didn’t speak on the way home, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Once in the kitchen, we cleaned up the picnic leavings together, still not speaking, but it was a strangely comforting, relaxed silence. There wasn’t any need to talk, because we knew where we stood with each other now. A little later, we walked upstairs together, arms around each other’s waists. I stopped Mom before she went into her room, hands sliding down to her hips, holding her gently.

Giving her a light but lingering kiss, I hugged her and spoke. “Thanks for a beautiful evening, Mom. It was the best. The best ever.”

“It was very special, Ricky. Sleep well, son.”

“Sweet dreams, Mom.”

That night, even with the help of Rosie Palmer (more than once), it had taken a long time to nod off. I simply could not stop reliving the evening’s events.

I know at some point I must have been asleep, because I found myself in a surreal dreamscape, walking on a darkened, windswept plain, head down, struggling into a ferocious wind. Heavy, roiling rain clouds scudded rapidly from horizon to horizon, internally illuminated with blinding flashes of sheet lightning. Horizontal rain, grit and sand were being blown into my face, abrading the skin of my cheeks and stinging my eyes.

The dream gale continued to increase in intensity until it stopped my forward progress entirely. I looked around myself in great confusion, knowing I was lost, but at the same time understanding that I urgently had to be someplace, but where I could not remember. As the tempest around me increased to a screaming crescendo, objects began to fly by; cars, rocks, animals, people, houses, boats, buildings, entire cities. As I felt myself beginning to lose my footing, I heard Mom’s voice. “Rickeeee! Rickeee! Time to come in! Time to stop playing!”

The surreal tempest still surged around me, but somehow, I was now standing in Gramps and Nana’s old Ohio backyard, next to my worn swing set, a small island of calm in the maelstrom.

“Coming, Mommy! I’m coming in now!”

As I spoke, the wind took me in its grip, swirling me up into the air. I lost all orientation as I was roughly twisted and tumbled, pushed in all directions by the impacts of the smaller debris, caroming off the larger objects in my path as I was pulled into the sky.

“Rickeee! Time to come in! Time to come in now!” Mom’s voice took on an insistent note.

“I’m trying, Mom! I’m trying!”

Spinning and tumbling through the air, I suddenly became oriented, finding the direction of her calls. Without effort or volition, I seemed to hurtle towards the source of her voice, bursting through the swirling cyclone of flying boulders, fragmented skyscrapers, great ships and shattered mountains to a quiet place of warm light and undisturbed clouds. Mom was there, dressed in a pale yellow, fifties-style house dress, a mixing bowl in the crook of her arm, stirring a batch of cookie dough. “Ahhh, there you are, my son! What took you so long?”

Setting the bowl aside, she held her arms out to me, clothes dissolving, blown away in a cloud of tiny, scintillating fragments by a warm breeze. Naked, I could see every detail of her body. Stiffened, erect and proud, her nipples were like beacons. Her abdomen, unblemished and smooth with only the slightest hint of maternal, soft fullness around the hips and belly, the magnificent thatch of reddish blonde hair between her legs and her inner thighs, glistening with evidence of her arousal, they all beckoned to me. As I reached towards her, she ran her tongue over her lips, mouth parting in preparation for me.

“You’re all grown up now, Ricky. I’m so proud of you – now come give me my kiss.”

As I reached out to take her in my arms, I awoke.

Shuddering slightly, I threw off the dream with effort, trying to smooth my ruffled mental feathers. Glancing at my alarm clock, I could see it was an uncharacteristically early hour, even though I had not fallen asleep for quite awhile after our return home. Images of the evening in the park still swirled in my head and the first thought when I opened my eyes was that I’d had the best dream ever about me and Mom, but when I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I saw the faintest smudge of lipstick at the angle of my jaw. Then I knew. My God, it had really, truly happened. Suddenly, I was amazingly awake. The sight of that faint streak of red on my cheek woke me up more than any triple shot of espresso could ever hope to do.

Quickly throwing on a clean polo shirt and some shorts, I padded downstairs past Mom’s still-closed door. I paused there briefly, but could hear nothing.

I put on a pot of coffee and went to the porch to get the morning paper. Easing back into the breakfast nook, I took in the headlines of the day, waiting for the pot to finish brewing. When the coffee was finally ready, I drank it black, trying to use the bitter taste to propel myself fully into the morning. Oddly, in spite of my disturbing and arousing dream, I felt as calm and content as I could ever remember. As I recalled the amazing events of our July 4th evening, I heard Mom stirring upstairs. A short while later her shower started up. When I heard her finish, I got up and poured her a cup of coffee and got a yogurt out of the fridge, slicing some of yesterday’s peaches over it. I sat back and waited, very apprehensive about what to expect.

A few minutes later, Mom arrived downstairs. She was dressed in her usual uniform, a smartly tailored navy business suit and a white silk blouse, the hemline of the skirt ending slightly below her knees. The jacket was stylishly cut with a broad expanse of open space between the deeply cut “V” of the front, subtly emphasizing her cleavage. As usual, she looked great to me.

I took in every detail, noticing she seemed a little fatigued and bleary-eyed. I gestured her to sit opposite me and handed her the mug of coffee, surreptitiously surveying her for any signs of regret, or (I fervently wished) acknowledgment. Try as I might, though, I could see nothing but her normal, day-to-day demeanor.

Taking a sip, she favored me with a dazzling smile. “Ahhh, thanks sweetie. I really need a jolt this morning.”

I sensed that Mom was not in any mood to talk about last night, so I kept my peace. “Would you like a ride to the station?” I asked.

Placing her hand on my arm and giving me a squeeze, she smiled warmly.

“I’ll take a lift from my handsome chauffeur any time. You needed the car for something today?”

“Yeah. Uncle Louie’s been after me to work a couple evenings a week while I make up my mind about my job. I thought I’d go talk to him about it. I think it’ll be good to stay a little busy while I sort things out.”

“Uncle Louie” was Louis Agostino, who owned the best restaurant in town. I’d begun working odd jobs and washing dishes for him when I was 16, gradually working my way up to part time line chef by the time I finished high school. Louie sort of took me under his wing after Gramp’s and Nana’s passing, showing me the ropes of running a kitchen and keeping me busy. He took an interest early on in my career and had been a wellspring of good advice and great contacts in the City as I developed my skills. I knew he would love to bring me on as Sous Chef in his place, but we both knew that wasn’t going to happen. All modesty and bad puns aside, I had bigger fish to fry. Still, I owed Louie a lot and was happy to help out when I had the time. Having a bit of spending money in my pocket for the summer would be nice too.

“That’s generous of you, Ricky. Louis has been very good to you.”

“That he has.”

As we drove to the station, Mom held my hand. When we arrived, she gave me a wonderful, light but deliciously prolonged kiss before hopping out of the car, gentle, moist and just a hint of tongue.

“Don’t worry about last night, darling. Nothing’s changed since we went to sleep,” she assured me with a smile.

How well she knew me! It was all I needed to hear to make it a great day and I loved her all the more for taking time to think about how I was feeling about us.

While I watched her make her way to the platform, it suddenly struck me how alive Mom looked, how confident and relaxed her demeanor was. As she strode away, her hips swayed and her gait was long and sensuous. She seemed to catch the eye of nearly every man she passed by. A few even stopped in their tracks, turning to watch her as she moved away from them. Every nuance of her body language shouted, “I’m a beautiful, desirable woman; look at me, watch me walk and see. I’m loved and in love.”

I worked out an arrangement with Uncle Louie later that morning. I’d work as the co-lead chef on the line on Friday nights and would spend Tuesday and Thursday afternoons working with the crew, teaching them the finer aspects of classic preparation and cooking techniques, acting as a quasi-Chef de Cuisine on those days. We worked out the details over a couple of hours and agreed that I would start next week.

When I picked up Mom at the end of the day, she was in an ebullient mood. She settled in next to me in the front seat and immediately parked herself under my arm, hand casually resting on my neck again, caressing me as we drove home.

“You seem particularly happy tonight, Mom. Good day at work?”

“Yes indeed. I’m especially happy today for three reasons.”

“I’m assuming you will enumerate and enlighten me as we go here.”

“I shall. Number one, I made the top ten in billable hours again this quarter, which makes three in a row, which means I get an extra week of vacation some time in the next three months. Number two, Doug March (son of the founding member of the practice and current senior partner) asked me to be lead counsel in the Vancouver Mining/Seattle-Pacific Precious Metals merger deal. I’ll be flying to Vancouver in a couple weeks to meet with my Canadian counterparts and to prepare for the negotiations.”

“Wow, that’s great news! Congratulations, Mom.”

I then described my summer arrangement with Uncle Louie, which further delighted her.

“You said there were three things, Mom.”

“I most certainly did. I had lunch today with Selena Mendoza to consult with her about the Vancouver Mining deal. She’s the M&A specialist who made partner last month. We’ve become pretty good friends over the past year and I mentored her when she first joined the practice.”

“Anyway, we’re sitting down to order and the first thing she asks me is ‘All right, who is he?’ Of course, I say that I have no idea what she’s talking about, and she then says ‘Come off it, Jenny. When the most serious, totally professional and completely business-like partner in the whole practice comes in to work with a big smile on her face, practically floating on air, something’s up. Everyone from the mail room boy to old man March himself was speculating like mad all morning.’ I thought about it for a minute and I asked her if she could keep a secret and she agreed.”

“I told her I was seeing a younger man.”

I almost drove off the road.

“Jesus!” I spluttered. “Damn…Why’d you say…I mean, it’s great, but…Mom?”

She laughed merrily and kissed my cheek, still running her hand up and down my neck, toying with my hair. “Aren’t you glad that our life is now, uhm, something more than it used to be?”

“More than you’ll ever know, Mom,” I sighed, wistful and hopeful at the same time.

Her expression became very serious. “You’re beginning a romantic relationship with your own mother, Ricky, and all that that implies,” she said somberly, her expression anxious.

“Everything is going to be different for us from now on. Whatever happens going forward, there’s no way to set the clock back to before July 4th now,” she said, searching my eyes.

I held her gaze, matching her serious expression with my own. Recognizing that we were touching on the very foundation of our budding relationship, I quickly pulled the car into a tree-lined side street and parked, shutting off the engine.

“Mom, not a minute goes by where I don’t think about what happened last night,” I said, turning to her, my voice just above a whisper.

“I know what I want,” I said, hesitantly, heart beating faster. I was about to say it out loud for the first time, not only to myself, but also to Mom. I was terrified and I think it showed.

Mom saw my trepidation, but misinterpreted it, her eyes starting to brim with tears.

“Ricky,” she pleaded, taking my hand. “Ricky, this is terribly important. You have to tell me right this minute if…if you’re having…guilt…or doubts,” she said, voice breaking.

Mom’s misreading of my hesitation was such a surprise, I laughed, finally breaking the anxiety that had made it so difficult to speak.

I reached over to gently rub the tear off her cheek. Sighing with relief, I smiled tenderly and said calmly,

“I have no doubts, Mom, none at all. It’s just, it’s just that I’ve never said it out loud before, even to myself, so it’s a little scary.”

Drawing in a deep breath, I took both her hands back again.

“I know what I want, what I need, Mom. I want a life, a life with you,” I said, my own eyes glistening.

Mom began crying again, this time smiling at the same time. She paused for a moment, wiping her tears, sniffing, “God, what a rollercoaster this all is! Look at me, I’m a complete emotional wreck and I’m making a horrible mess of my makeup. What you must think of me!”

I started to reply in protest, but Mom held up her hand, cutting me off.

Her warm smile continuing, she leaned over and kissed me, mouth trailing slowly from my lips to my cheek. “Ricky, my beautiful boy, my lovely son, that ‘s the most wonderful, sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she sighed into my ear. “Once, when you were six, you said you wanted to marry me when you grew up. You touched my heart then and now, against all odds, you’ve touched me again. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes, Mom, say you’ll be with me,” I pleaded, watching her intently.

Sighing sadly, Mom looked away, staring out the window and my heart went into free fall. Still not facing me, she spoke again, slowly and haltingly, struggling to express herself.

“Ricky…Ricky…This is so difficult for me, you have no idea…part of me wants to throw myself into your arms right this minute, to be everything you want me to be for you. But…but another part of me, the part that’s an older, experienced woman, and also your Mom, she knows that things are never that simple,” she exhaled sadly.

“When you’re young, you think that being in love, loving somebody, is the answer to all problems, that sharing that emotion holds the key to a hundred years of bliss.”

Voice hoarse with emotion, she continued, “But it’s not really true. People make mistakes; people change and grow apart, sometimes quickly, sometimes after many years together. Sometimes they,,,they betray each other or even grow to hate one another.”

Her voice barely audible, Mom wrung her hands in her lap. “The love a mother has for her child, it’s the strongest love there is, Ricky, usually even stronger than what she feels for her mate. It’s the most precious thing in her life. To ask her to jeopardize that, to deliberately place it in harm’s way, it’s asking a lot,” she said seriously.

Crying again, she turned back to face me, putting her hands on my shoulders, looking deep into my eyes. “It really scares me to risk that, Ricky, even though the thought of us together as…as…lovers, makes my heart soar sometimes.”

“I’m afraid if things don’t go well for us, it could be pretty horrible. I think I could survive us breaking up as a couple, but if it caused me to lose my son, I couldn’t bear that. It would be the end of my world,” she quavered.

“That’s how much I love you, my son,” she sobbed, voice breaking.

As high as I was flying when I picked Mom up, I was now lower than dust in the road. It seemed as though Mom was talking herself out of what I was sure was meant to be, that her fears and innately cautious nature would forever be in the way of our coming together. After what we shared the night before, it was inconceivable, impossible that we would not be with each other.

I was silent for some minutes while I digested her statement. Clearing my throat hesitantly, I reached out to squeeze her hand reassuringly, replying softly, “I’ve never been very good at concealing my thoughts from you, Mom. I think…I….ah, shit!” I cried in frustration. “I can’t say this just looking at you, Mom.”

I frantically unbuckled her seat belt and pulled her urgently, almost roughly into my lap, wrapping my arms around her, squeezing her tightly as I buried my face in her hair. Her arms simultaneously came around my shoulders, returning my hug with equal intensity.

“You’ve known for a long time how I feel about you, about us, Mom,” I murmured into her shoulder.

“I…I understand what you’re saying, about us being, uhm, lovers. I really do,” I said, voice tight. “And I may be young, and I may be inexperienced and idealistic, but I do know this one thing, Mom. I know if you don’t play, you can’t win.”

Inhaling her scent deeply, I felt some measure of calm return and I stroked her hair gently, tracing my fingers along her hairline and over the crest of her ear, trailing down to the side of her neck. Mom seemed to settle against me a little as my hand came to rest on the top of her shoulder and she sighed. I let my hands trace around her upper arms and back, lightly, soothing, simple and affectionate.

Whispering in her ear, I spoke as calmly and reassuringly as I could.

“Mom, right now, I think the most important thing you need to know is that no matter what, this son loves his mother. If we can be together as more than that, I’ll be the happiest guy on earth. If it doesn’t work out, it’s not going to change the fact that you’re always going to be my mom, and that all we have in this world is each other. I’ll always be there for you – that’s my solemn promise right now, here at this minute and from now on, regardless.”

Mom seemed to heave a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Ricky. I promise you’ll always be my son too, no matter what.”

Pulling back slightly from her, I brushed her hair back over her ear and kissed her lightly on her lips.

“Can you promise me one more thing, Mom?”

“Will you try? Will you really try to give us a chance? Because, it would be wonderful. It would be the best, Mom. We would be good together, pretty lady, really good,” I entreated her. “You’d be my queen.”

Plunging on, I said, “I’ll make you another promise myself, Mom. I promise that I’ll do my best not to push you or make you uncomfortable. We’ll go as fast or as slow as you want, as we figure out where we’re going with this. That’s my promise.”

We drove the rest of the way home in silence, Mom holding my free hand. I was going over everything she had said in my mind, trying to get a handle on where we were headed. There was a metric ton of stuff left unsaid between us. The ambiguity of being an “almost” couple was maddening to me. All of my long-suppressed desires cried out to seize the opportunity and push things to an ultimate conclusion, but I knew in my heart that there would be no rushing Mom. She was showing her cautious nature and definitely needed to feel in control of what was happening between us. I knew for certain, just as I promised her, that there was no chance I was going to hurt her in any way, but there sure was a good possibility that I might go insane with frustration.

Mom still seemed a bit pensive as we pulled into the garage. After the door closed behind us, I turned to Mom and gave her a gentle, prolonged kiss. “I meant what I said last night, and just now, Mom. I won’t do anything you don’t want. But,” I grinned wickedly, “I will do everything you ask, so be warned.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she whispered.

Drawing in a large breath, she looked deeply in my eyes.

“Okay, Ricky,” she said, barely audible. “I’ll try.”

For dinner, we reheated some leftover pasta and had some steamed veggies. We talked at some length about the upcoming trip to Vancouver, Mom describing her role in the whole process. It was all quite foreign to me, but fascinating nevertheless. When we were finished and had cleaned up our dishes, to my disappointment, Mom excused herself and went to her office to work on the merger project for several hours. I occupied myself with a few chores that needed doing and was watching some brainless reality show when Mom came out of her office.

“Pffft, that’s enough for one day, I think,” she said heavily, stretching her arms above her head and arching her neck back. She walked over to the sofa and stood at my side. “What on earth are you watching, Ricky? That stuff will rot your brain. Unless…have you developed an attraction for self-promoting publicity whores with big fake boobs and no discernible talents?”

“Actually, I already have a girl. Nobody can hold a candle to her.”

Nodding towards the television, I added, “She makes that Kim person look like Ron Perlman.”

“Do tell. What’s she like?”

“Well, she’s about five foot nine, with deep blue eyes and beautiful strawberry blonde hair. She’s smart, sexy and about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I love her to death and need her more than my next heartbeat,” I replied, taking her hand and pulling her into my lap.

Settling herself into a comfortable position, she put her arms around my neck and snuggled up close.

“Sit with me for a while, Mom. We can watch whatever you like. I’ve just been killing time, waiting for you to finish your work.”

“So, you were hoping to spend the rest of the evening making out with your Mom?”

“I was hoping to steal a kiss or two,” I admitted. “But if you’re tired, I can take a rain check, pretty lady.”

“You’re very sweet and considerate, Ricky. I can always spare a few minutes for my handsome son.”

Our first kiss on the sofa was just as sweet as the one in the park the preceding day, but different. After our wrenching conversation on the way home, I was still feeling upset and uncertain. My anxiety must have shown, because Mom picked up on it immediately.

Cupping my cheek maternally, Mom forced me to look at her. “Ricky, what’s wrong? Talk to me, honey. Tell me what’s worrying you.”

“Mom…Mom, are we okay?” I blurted.

She gave me a reassuring smile, and ruffled my hair like always. Then, quickly, she bent to my lips and gave me a burning, toe-curling kiss, her tongue devouring me. I moaned back into her mouth and pulled her to me tightly as her arms curled around my shoulders.

Breaking the kiss, Mom regarded me closely, eyes dancing.

“Does that answer your question, my son?”

Sighing in relief, I smiled, saying, “Yeah, Mom. Thanks. Thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Ricky,” she whispered. “You’re always welcome. Now, about that last kiss – Momma thinks you can do better, much better than that. Let’s try again.”

I was happy for the extra homework.

We necked lightly for another five or ten minutes, things slowly heating up. The tongue action started to get pretty hot and heavy, both of us sighing and panting as our excitement grew. Mom broke our embrace, placing her hand on my chest, head down, breathing in short gasps.

“Whew! You go to my head, young man. You are far to good a kisser for my own good – I was really starting to get carried away there.”

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” she said, a note of regret in her voice.

Carefully placing her hand on my upper thigh, she gave me a slight squeeze. “Besides, I think there’s something you need to take care of right about now.”


“Don’t be embarrassed, Ricky. You have no idea how nice it is to know I excite you. You make me feel like a teenager all over again – it’s really quite sweet and a huge compliment.”

Getting off my lap, she stood up and drew me to my feet. Bringing her arms underneath mine and onto my back, she kissed me soundly again, and then broke our embrace, bringing a hand to my cheek. “You’re a natural gentleman, Ricky. Thank you for being so patient with me – I know it’s ha…er, difficult for you right now.”

I smiled and laughed. “It’s both, Mom.”

We walked upstairs, holding hands, pausing for one more long kiss outside Mom’s bedroom door. She then pushed me away, slowly, as though struggling. Squaring her shoulders with effort, she took my arm and pointed me down the hall, giving my butt a light swat to get me moving.

“Time to go ‘handle’ you problem, son,” she whispered in my ear, lips trailing across my cheek.

As I reached the door to my bathroom, I turned around briefly. Mom was still in the hallway, looking at me with a gentle smile on her face.

“Have fun stirring the honey pot, Mom,” I teased, stepping quickly into the doorway.

“Ricky – you brat!” she shrieked. I got the door closed just in time, one of Mom’s slippers smacking against it. Thank God I could find a way to see some humor in our situation. It was either that or have a psychotic break – so I laughed.

I hopped in the shower and got everything nice and clean, really clean. I was still semi-hard when I got out, wrapping a towel around my waist and quietly stepping into the hallway. Moving carefully to Mom’s closed door, I canted my head to listen. Shifting my weight to bring my ear closer to the door, a floorboard creaked slightly beneath me. Shit! I heard Mom’s voice immediately.

“Ricky! Get your horny butt into bed! There’s no muffin buffin’ going on here tonight, so skedaddle now!”

I couldn’t help myself. Muffin buffin’ indeed – I cracked up. “Sorry, Mom! Good night!”

“Good night, you bad boy. Just so you know – I’m putting saltpeter in your scrambled eggs tomorrow!” Mom was laughing as well.

Jesus, what a pair we made. I think we were both going crazy, dancing around the elephant in our room, but if we went insane, it would be in good humor, I supposed. It’s amazing what you can endure when you really love someone.

Things continued in a similar vein between us for another week or two, the undercurrents become stronger with each make-out session. It seemed as though we were swimming on the edge of a vortex, which could suck us into lustful oblivion at any time. I was in a haze of constant arousal whenever I was near Mom and I don’t think she was faring much better.

I never knew what to expect when I took her into my arms, though. There were times when the slightest brush across her breast or brief caress of a thigh would provoke a gentle rebuke and others when she would let me touch her through her blouse for minutes at a time. It seemed that sometimes Mom was holding back by main force of will and wasn’t able to bring herself to the next level of intimacy with me. Other times, I was left with the feeling that I was mere minutes away from getting naked with her.

Then there were the looks she gave me, whenever she stopped our make-out sessions. The lust was there, to be sure, with obviously flushed cheeks and chest and moist lips, but it was her eyes and her hands that always gave me pause. When she would put her palm on my thumping chest, so slowly and gently pushing me away, or burying her head in my shoulder, almost in embarrassment, when she started to get carried away, she would then look up at me, her gaze a strange combination of apology, regret and desire. Then she would get up, her hands very slowly trailing off my back or shoulders, obviously loathe to relinquish her contact with me.

My heart would go out to her at those times, quickly banking the fires of my own desire. After those moments, I would always try to give her a simple warm hug and a peck on the cheek, like old times, letting her know that I was, first and foremost, still her son. She seemed to appreciate those unspoken assurances and her spirits would visibly lift when she left my side, usually to retire for the evening.

I may have been half mad with lust during that time, but I wasn’t completely brain dead. This was my Mom, who I loved with all my heart, and she was having trouble figuring out what to do. I did my best to be patient. I hoped every day that she would find her way to me, praying every night that she wouldn’t lose her nerve and pull away completely.

The Friday before Mom was to leave for Vancouver, I sat in the kitchen at breakfast time, staring into a bitter cup of black coffee, trying without much success to sort out my feelings.

Our new romance was more than I could possibly have hoped just a few short months ago, but I positively ached for more. It was painfully clear that wherever things were going, they were going to happen at the pace Mom decided on.

I worried daily about my ability to live off of crumbs from the incestuous banquet table that was laid out just beyond my reach. As my ultimate dream appeared to inch closer, it seemed as though there was more to lose by trying to push things along. Mom was placing a lot of confidence in my ability to wait for her, but I felt in my gut that if I tried to escalate our nascent affair on my own, I’d be breaking her trust in a way that would not be reparable. It was absolutely maddening.

Even more frustrating was her imminent departure. As perpetually horny as our situation had made me, the mere thought of being separated from Mom at this point was even more painful. I closed my eyes and heaved a long sigh.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Mom had come down for breakfast, unnoticed during my short excursion into self-pity.

“Mom, I was thinking, I’m not going to see you for maybe a week or more when you leave Sunday. I’m going to miss you a lot.”

“Me too, sweetie, but that’s the way it is. You going to have to hang in there, big guy,” she consoled, giving me a hug. “I’m going to miss your touch and kisses just as much, darling,” she whispered in my ear.

“How about I send you off in style, sweet lady? Can I take you out for dinner and dancing tomorrow evening? We’ll go to Sorvino’s Supper Club. Please say yes,” I entreated.

“That would be wonderful, Ricky. Yes, I will go out with you.”

“Great! I’ll make the reservations today.”

“One thing, Ricky.”

“Yes, Mom?”

“This girl doesn’t put out on the first date,” she grinned.

I knew she was just teasing me, but it stung anyway. I think it must have shown a little in my expression, because Mom was immediately contrite.

“Oh, I’m sorry darling! I was just teasing, you know,” she said, genuine concern in her eyes. She showered my face with little smooches of apology. “I’m really sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay Mom, no big deal. I just want a nice memory to hold me until you get back.”

“You’re my incurable romantic, you sweet young man. I really do love you, you know.”

I put my arms around her waist and kissed her soundly. “Love you too, Mom,” I murmured.

Reluctantly, she disengaged from my embrace, hands trailing down my arms, lightly caressing and then regretfully releasing as she squeezed my fingers. “I’ve got to get to work,” she sighed, backing away unwillingly.

As she turned to leave, I pinched her bottom. “Ciao, bella!”

Squealing in mock indignation, she slapped at my hand, eyes sparkling. “I’ll see you after you get back from Louie’s tonight, you naughty young man.”

“Bye, pretty lady.”


Friday evenings at Uncle Louie’s place were always a madhouse, but that particular evening was brutal. We were shorthanded a Commis, so we fell behind on mis en place early on in the shift. Because we were rushing to get caught up, our Saucier got careless and ended up burning her arm badly, effectively putting her out of commission for the evening. I ended up trying to do two jobs, working the line and filling in at her station. Somehow, I pulled things off, as we had no complaints from the dining room or the wait staff. As we were closing down, Louie came back to personally thank us all for our efforts. “See you all at the Bald Moose Grill after we close,” he announced. “Drinks are on me. Are you coming Rick?”

“Take a rain check, if I may? There’s a lady waiting for me this evening.”

“There’s only one thing that should stand between a chef and free after hours libations,” Louie intoned seriously. “And you’ve named it. See ya Tuesday.”

When I got home, I found Mom asleep on the sofa. The living room was dark, illuminated only by the flickering television screen. A half empty bottle of wine was next to her on the coffee table. She lay completely relaxed, sprawled out with one leg and arm dangling off the edge of the couch, bathrobe parted around her legs, exposing her up to the tops of her thighs. I could make out the very bottom of the front of her silky white panties, a small delta of brightness nestled at the junction of the flawless alabaster softness of her upper thighs.

I stood still for several minutes, drinking in the sight, a captivating combination of sweet vulnerability and sexy display. I was bending down to kiss her when I noticed her smell. Musky and unmistakable, I immediately recognized the scent of aroused woman. It was then I could see a slight sheen on the inside of her thighs and the clearly damp condition of the front of her panties. Her right hand laid limply on her lower abdomen, palm up, fingers slightly curled. Her fingers were lightly glistening, even in the low flickering light of the television.

As I took in the visual telltales and odor of Mom’s evening of self-pleasure, my cock went from merely erect to high carbon steel hardness. I think I must have moaned in my throat, because Mom stirred slightly, eyelids fluttering. Stepping catlike, smoothly and silently to her side, I quickly bent over her, slipping one arm beneath her knees and the other around her lower back. Operating on pure limbic overdrive, I scooped her up, startling her into wakefulness.

“Whaaa….mnnpphhh…hunh?……. Ricky?” She mumbled, arms reflexively reaching around my neck to stabilize herself. She slowly woke up as I carried her across the living room.

“Ricky, what’re you doing?”

I didn’t respond; instead I buried my face in the crook of her neck, kissing her at the juncture of her soft throat and shoulder, just above the collarbone. I sucked her flesh into my mouth hungrily, Mom throwing her head back and moaning slightly. “Oooohhhh, baby…”

By now, I was at the top of the stairs, arms aching. My strength gave out and I set her on her feet next to the bedroom door. Pulling her close to me, I sought her lips, crushing them under my own with a growl. She melted against me, her tongue seeking out mine with equal passion, body pressed fully against me. I instinctively sought her breast with my right hand, my left arm still wrapped around her waist, holding her close. As I felt her nipple hardening beneath my palm, my other hand slipped to cup her ass cheek, pulling her pelvis tightly and insistently against my hardness. Mom then seemed to come to her senses, breaking her kiss with me. With an obvious shudder, she pushed me back slightly, slowly, very reluctantly removing my hand from her breast. “Oh my, baby…” she sighed, lips trembling, breath coming in tortured gasps. “We’ve got… to be… careful, sweetheart…She took in a gulping breath, looking at me with concern. “I can’t…let…things…get out of…control…not yet, not ready yet,” she whispered, breathing still labored.

I was in such a state of arousal that it sounded to me as though Mom was talking to me through a long cardboard tube, words faint and indistinct as my own pulse thundered in my ears. Reluctantly, I came partially back to the real world, trembling slightly, but still breathing through flared nostrils like an enraged bull. I was not able to formulate a coherent thought, completely unable to speak.

Mom had her arms on my shoulders and was looking at me intently, the hooded look of excitement in her eyes gradually being replaced by worry. “Ricky, relax. Get a hold of yourself. Settle down,” she entreated me.

Slowly reclaiming a few shreds of self-control, I took a shuddering deep breath. She looked so desirable, so damn sexy that I felt myself beginning to slip again. With a moan, I took her right hand and brought it to my mouth, licking her taste off her fingers. “Oh my god.” she exclaimed as her eyes widened in shock.

I bolted to the bathroom without looking back, slamming the door behind me as I shoved my pants and boxers to my ankles in one savage movement. Grasping and roughly stroking myself, I came almost immediately. “Ohhhgodddlooove yoooumom!” I cried, agony fusing with ecstasy.

Spent, I collapsed onto the toilet seat, panting like I had run up a dozen flights of stairs. I sank into a kind of stupor for ten or fifteen minutes, at one point hearing Mom outside the bathroom door. See seemed to stand there for several minutes without knocking, but then left. Shortly after that, I heard her bedroom door close softly, followed by the sounds of her shower starting up. I was in no state to go to sleep, so I cleaned up quickly and changed into shorts and a tee shirt. I then went back to the family room and turned on the TV, paying only marginal attention to the screen as I tried to regain my composure.

Probably 5 or 10 minute later, Mom came downstairs, dressed in some man pajamas and a bathrobe. She had a wholesome, freshly scrubbed look, but seemed very apprehensive as she came to stand by the sofa. “Ricky,” she began hesitantly, “Are you okay?”

I smiled weakly. “I’m fine now Mom. Coming back and seeing you like that, well, it was a little too stimulating, I guess.”

“You scared me, you were so intense.”

I immediately felt terrible. “Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. It’s just that sometimes, you just turn me on so much…”

I held my hands out to her. “Please sit with me for a few minutes, okay?”

Mom bit her lip, not meeting my eyes at first. After a long moment, she ran her hand through her hair absently and looked up to me, sighing apologetically.

“I’m sorry too, sweetheart. I didn’t want to shut you down so hard, but I felt like things were starting to get out of control… It was too intense, too quick for me, baby,” she exhaled gustily, “I was afraid things were happening too fast,” she said, voice trailing away.

Reaching out to her, I finally captured her fingers in my hands, gently pulling her down next to me and I put my arms around her. “I love you Mom. I won’t forget my promise. I’m sorry I frightened you.” I buried my face in her hair, taking a deep breath of her clean scent, once again inhaling soap and sandalwood. I held her this way for some time and she gradually relaxed, putting her hands over my arms as I lightly rocked her. Hesitantly, I asked her, “Are you still going out with me tomorrow night?”

She squeezed my forearms and tilted her head back to kiss my cheek. “Of course, Ricky.”

I heaved a large sigh of relief and then stirred slightly, in preparation of getting up, but Mom pushed back against me, holding my forearms tighter. “Going somewhere, buster?”

She scooted back towards me, her hips forcing my knees apart until her buttocks were pushed up against my perpetually aching crotch, back resting on my chest. Turning her head back to me, she said, “Let’s try that again, darling. I do trust you, you know.”

She found my lips for a reassuring kiss. As our lips joined a second time, her tongue immediately sought mine. She tasted of toothpaste, clean and cool. Flicking and lashing together, she sucked me into her mouth and broke our kiss with a small sigh, a silvery string of saliva stretching between our lips. Resuming the kiss with a sigh, she pressed her lips even harder against mine. Never breaking our contact, Mom moved my hands from her waist and undid the sash of her robe. Thrusting her tongue urgently into my mouth, she sought out my hands and squeezed them and them brought them up and placed them on her breasts. “Mmmmm, Ricky, please touch me,” she whispered.

“Mom… are you sure?”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” she whispered reassuringly.

I felt like I had been bodily transported to paradise. I gently cupped each soft, supple heaviness through the material of her pajama tops, slowly running my fingers all over and around those sublime orbs, lightly probing and sliding, committing every millimeter of her wonderful contours to memory. When I delicately ran my fingertips over her hardening nipples the first time, she gasped into my mouth and moaned.

“Ooohh, baby, that feels so nice.”

As I gently palmed her breasts through the light flannel of the pajama top, now lightly squeezing her nipples between my fingertips, Mom began to push herself back against my straining groin. The pressure was unbearable and I began to involuntarily thrust forward to meet her, feeling the smooth contour of her lower back through the layers of fabric. As I continued to knead her breasts, paying more vigorous attention to her nipples, she began moaning almost continuously into my mouth as our kiss continued, still tasting each other’s tongues. I could feel the pressure beginning to build in my groin as I dry-humped Mom’s back. Her hands had been resting on top of mine, gently holding them in place on her breasts as I caressed her, but now, I saw her drop her right hand to her abdomen, fingers disappearing beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms. She stiffened slightly, moaning into my mouth, her own hand moving beneath the front of her pajama pants.

I was incredibly excited by the sight, my fingers lightly pinching her nipples through the flannel of her PJs as she began to stroke herself. Unable to contain myself, I quickly unbuttoned her top, my hands rapidly finding their way back to her heaving chest.

Holding my mother’s bare breasts in my hands for the first time, I marveled at their silky heft, the warm smoothness of her skin. Tracing my fingers around the slight bumpiness at the perimeter of her areolae, I sought the small erect monuments of her nipples with my fingertips, lightly pinching and kneading them. Exhaling her breath in a sibilant hiss, Mom arched her back to push herself more fully into my clasping hands.

“Oh, baby, that’s so good. Yessssss, just like that. Touch your Mommy.”

She must have been at least as turned on as I was, because after only a few seconds of my stimulation and her stroking her own slit, she cried out and arched her back even more, exhaling sharply into a long, drawn out sigh. “Ahhhhh, god! Riickeeee…”

As she raised her hips in climax, I suddenly found mine sliding underneath her bottom. She immediately responded by grinding down into my crotch. My cock now nestled into the crack of her ass, I continued my humping movements. It was immediately too much for me. I stiffened myself, feeling a great tightness beginning in my groin and spreading outwards. I pushed upwards against her back crevice, raising her wonderful firm cheeks further off the sofa, crashing into my own orgasm. “Ahhhhhmygodmygod Mooooooooooom!” I must have ejaculated at least a half dozen huge ropes of cum, completely saturating my shorts and immediately soaking through to dampen the seat of Mom’s pajamas.

With a shudder, I collapsed completely back onto the couch, twitching with the nearly unbearable pleasure of my climax. Mom was also totally spent, her chest heaving and flushed from her arousal, a light sheen of perspiration on her face and upper chest, as she settled back against me. I let my hands slide down off her breasts with a sigh, resting them on warm softness of her belly, hugging her close. Her arms closed over mine and she sighed contentedly. We lay quietly like this for some minutes, not speaking, just breathing and holding, until Mom spoke.

“My bottom is all wet, you naughty boy,” she whispered. “I need to get cleaned up, and so do you.”

We struggled to our feet, knees wobbly, slowly making our way upstairs. I cleaned myself off quickly in the bathroom, wincing with the contact of the cold, wet washcloth on my cock and balls. Putting on a fresh pair of shorts, I went to Mom’s room. As I walked through the doorway, Mom was just shrugging a nightgown over he shoulders, her back to me. For a brief moment, I could see the flawless skin of her back, the elegant, elongated and serrated curve of her spine, her perfect buttocks encased in a pair of plain, white, cotton bikini panties. As the gown settled around her calves, Mom turned and started, seeing me in the doorway. “Were you peeking, mister?”

“Maybe just a little, Mom. You are so beautiful.”

“Well, beautiful or not, I’m tired. It’s bed time.”

I walked over to the bedside and turned down the covers. “I’ll tuck you in.” I got her settled and pulled the covers up under her chin. I sat on the edge of the bed, and kissed her lightly on her lips, touching her cheek lightly. “G’night, my gorgeous mother, sleep well.”

“Good night, son. Off with you now, get some rest.” She closed her eyes, a half smile on her lips. Her eyelids fluttered then she was elsewhere.

But I didn’t leave. Captivated, I stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep for almost half an hour, taking in every detail of her face. The worry lines on her forehead slowly smoothed away and her breathing became soft and regular. I could see the slight flare of her delicate nostrils every time she exhaled. Gradually, I could detect the movement of her eyes beneath their lids as she began to dream. A small smile appeared on her lips and did not fade. When I went to bed, I also slept with a smile, heavily and dreamlessly.

When I swam my way back to consciousness the next morning, it was already well past 10 am. It was a typical August morning, sky a bluish gray haze of suspended dust and suffocating humidity, the beginnings of cumulus clouds evident, likely foretelling afternoon thundershowers. After I deflated my morning wood, I went downstairs to the kitchen. A pot of hot coffee was already on, a note beside it. It read, “Ricky – I’m out doing some shopping for tonight. See you later this afternoon. Love and Kisses, Mom. P.S. Keep you hands out of your pants today. XO m.”

As I stood in the middle of the kitchen, reading and rereading the note, I was torn between exasperation and breathless anticipation. Was she just teasing me? That thought was torture on one hand, but strangely reassuring and satisfying on the other. It felt like an affectionate, intimate jest between lovers.

The other possibility was, of course, a direct request. “Don’t be whacking off, big guy. I’ve got plans for this evening,” I imagined her voice in my head, throaty and sultry.

It didn’t bear any further thought, I concluded. Spending any more time trying to read between the lines would only drive me crazy. I carefully folded the paper and put it in my shirt pocket, patting it once for good luck, a small smile on my face. I mentally squared my shoulders and set about getting something to eat.

As I sat in the breakfast nook, sipping a mug of coffee and absently chewing on some toast, I reviewed my mental checklist for the evening’s activities. I had one or two details to double check, but most everything was in order. I reread Mom’s note, a stupid-silly smile on my face. I finished my coffee and headed out the door.

Necessary stops this morning included the florist and dry cleaners. I took my time, knowing if I sat around at home, I’d be a candidate for a rubber room before the day was out. When I got back, Mom was still out. I surfed the web, made a few desultory attempts at using my old PlayStation, paced around the house, tried reading a book, paced around the house, tried taking a nap, paced around the house and then to break up the monotony, I paced around the house.

Mom finally arrived home just before 4, breezing through the kitchen with several shopping bags. She gave me a glancing kiss and swept upstairs. “Gotta start getting ready for my hot date, kiddo,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll be ready by 6. See ya.” With that she was gone. Shortly after, I heard her drawing a bath.

Of course I was ready long before Mom came down. I had dressed in a dark, raw silk blazer, which Mom had bought for me for job interviews, some charcoal slacks and a white shirt and tie. I sat in the family room, idly surfing the channels while I waited for Mom to make her appearance. Finally, about 5 minutes before we needed to leave, I heard her bedroom door open. I quietly pulled out my cellphone and speed-dialed. I said, “We’re ready,” and hung up quickly. Then she came down the stairs.

Sweet Jesus.

As anxious as I felt before, as taxing as the wait was, I would have gladly endured a month of pacing and hand wringing to see what was now in front of me.

She was clad in a brilliant deep crimson, sequined evening dress. It was designed in sheath fashion, flowing diagonally off her right shoulder, the left exposed. The smooth fabric draped across her chest in the same line, leaving the upper portion of her left chest and the top third of her left breast bare. It flowed over the slight, sexy, womanly bulge of her belly and then her hips, ending in an asymmetric, slanting hemline which nearly reached to her left knee, but left a long, delectable expanse of her smooth right thigh exposed. A pair of glossy, sheer hose and matching red pumps completed the effect. It was elegant. It was sophisticated. It was alluring. It was my wettest dream, encased in sparkles, sequins and ruby silk. When she reached the last step, she paused briefly, hand on bannister, one gorgeous leg extended above the last step, ankle slightly cocked.

“Fuck me running,” I muttered under my breath.

Mom turned around slowly once when she got to the bottom of the stairs, looking at me expectantly. I gulped and cleared my throat.

“Ehhmmmm. Mom. Unbelievable!” I croaked.

“You like it?”

There was only one response. I closed the distance between us and kissed her hard. Her eyes widened in surprise and then her arms came around my neck as she returned the favor, tongue lightly dancing on my lips. She broke the kiss and took a deep breath, palm on my chest.

“Whew! I guess I had my question answered, big boy.”

“There’s only one thing needed to complete your outfit, pretty lady.” I quickly stepped into the dining room and brought out the fruits of my visit to the florist, hiding them behind my back. I came back into the foyer and presented a large bouquet of mixed red, orange and deep pink roses to Mom.

She took in a quick breath of surprise and teared up. “Oh Ricky, sweetheart! You didn’t need to do this. They’re perfect, so beautiful! Thank you so much, darling!” That earned me another heartfelt, passionate kiss.

I picked one newly opening red rose from the bouquet and handed it to Mom. “We’ll take this with us.”

I took her hand a led her towards the front door. “The car, Ricky?” she questioned.

“I made other arrangements,” I replied. The timing was perfect. As we stepped out onto the porch, the limo pulled up to the curb.

I have to be honest and say that I’ve never been a big fan of the various kinds of stretch vehicles that seem to be so popular these days for proms and other special events. I find them to be vulgar and ostentatious. This car, on the other hand, was perfect for the occasion. It was a gleaming, midnight black, 6 door Mercedes Grand 600, about 1970 vintage. It was the perfect combination of luxury and understated, sophisticated elegance.

Mom gripped my arm in surprise. “Ricky! How did you manage…”

“I have my ways, Mom. I know lots of people in the City and through Uncle Louie too.”

She pulled me close and leaned her head on my shoulder as we strolled to the sidewalk. “I love you, son,” she whispered.

“I told you I wanted us to have a memorable evening, Mom.” I put my arm around her shoulder and hugged her close. “I love you too, you know.”

The driver stood ready at the door, holding it open for us. “Good evening, Mr. Lindermann, ma’am. My name is Lydia. It will be my pleasure to be your driver this evening. Please make yourself comfortable and we’ll get under way shortly.”

I handed Mom into the back and joined her. After closing our door, Lydia slid behind the steering wheel and turned to look at us, eyes taking Mom in with appreciation. “Sorvino’s as planned, sir?”

“Yes, please,” I replied.

“Very good, sir.” Lydia paused for a moment and quietly cleared her throat. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but may I say that I seldom have the opportunity to chauffeur such an attractive couple? Madame is particularly beautiful this evening.”

“Thank you Lydia, and no, you’re not out of line. I couldn’t agree more,” I replied, squeezing Mom’s hand.

Our driver turned her attention to the dashboard and pushed a button. A thick, smoked glass partition rose with a whisper in front of us and then we were enveloped in luxurious silence as the Benz pulled smoothly away from the curb.

Mom snuggled under my arm and put her hand on my knee. “Sorvino’s eh? I can’t remember the last time I went out for dinner and dancing.”

“You deserve it, Mom. Can I interest you in some champagne?”

“Mmmmm. Yes, please. Not five minutes out of the house and you’re already spoiling me rotten.”

I gave her a slow, thorough kiss, lips closed, just tender and affectionate, Mom sighing happily when I broke it.

“That’s the general idea.” I opened the wet bar in front of us and extracted a split of Veuve Cliquot and two chilled glasses. Pouring into the flutes, I raised mine in toast. “To my beautiful mother, who I love very much.”

“To my handsome, talented son, who I love just as much,” she replied, clinking our glasses together.

We settled in close to each other, thigh to thigh, each sipping our drinks, my arm around her shoulders, her free hand resting casually on my leg, stroking lightly. We spoke little during the ride, savoring our champagne and sharing an occasional kiss as we wound our way through the countryside to the supper club. I savored every mile of our journey, memorizing every detail as we made our way into the countryside.

Our arrival at the club and Mom’s exit from the limousine created quite a stir. All eyes were on her as we entered the club and I gave my name to the maître d’. I was very conscious of and highly gratified by all of the attention Mom garnered as we were escorted to our table. Turning to whisper in her ear, I told her how proud I was to have the most beautiful woman in the building at my side. She gave me a radiant smile and squeezed my arm, kissing my cheek.

As we settled in our booth adjacent to the dance floor, I beckoned to the hostess. Handing her Mom’s rose, I asked, “Could you bring this back in a small vase, please?”

“Certainly sir. The band will begin playing in about 10 minutes. Are you planning on dancing? If so, we can hold your orders until you finish.”

“That would be perfect, thank you.”

We decided on a Carpaccio of tenderloin with rosemary olive oil, to be followed by a Caesar salad and a traditional ossobuco in bianco with risotto alla Milanese, washed down with a bottle of Tignanello. As we finished placing our order, the band and singer took the stage. Nodding towards the floor, I took Mom’s hand. “May I have this dance, mother?”

“It would be my pleasure, young sir.”

Taking her hand in mine, I led Mom to the center of the dance floor, taking her into my arms as the band began its first song.

The opening number was perfect, so much so that it could hardly have been better scripted. As the strains of T-Bone Walker’s old classic “Glamour Girl” wove around us, I drew Mom in close to me and kissed her cheek.

“There’s no one here that can hold a candle to you, Mom. You’re absolutely gorgeous and I’m feeling very fortunate.”

As she moved in closer, the front of Mom’s thighs brushed against mine. My response was as rapid and involuntary as usual. As she felt me hardening against her, a small smile formed and she drew me in closer. “You’re a good dancer, Ricky. I feel so nice and tingly when you hold me.”

Delicately manipulating our trajectory to the far corner of the dance floor, Mom tilted her head to me and we shared, a soft, slow kiss. At the same time, she reached behind her back and guided my right hand to her ass.

Startled, but immensely gratified, my hand flowed over her supple, rounded contour, Mom lightly grinding against me, intensifying our kiss, her tongue seeking me out.

“Mmmmm, baby. You sure know how to show your Mom a good time.”

We continued our circuit of the floor, my hand never left Mom’s luscious behind. I continued to caress her curves, occasionally cupping and squeezing, to small, soft murmurs of approval into my ear. One of her hands would occasionally drop down from my shoulders, sliding slowly to my waist, drawing our pelvises together for a slight, subtle grind. She seemed to know exactly when to do this, intensifying the sensuality of our dance together.

By comparison, I began to feel a bit like a bull in the proverbial china shop, with my not so subtle groping of her ass, so I slowly changed my own explorations to more closely mimic hers, taking more time to concentrate on every aspect of our contact.

I savored the glide of my hand across the soft skin of her back between her spine and shoulder blade, the subtle tilt and bump of the crest of her pelvis as I rested my hand on her hip while we moved together. I would run my fingers down the serrated prominence of her spine, only occasionally and unpredictably letting her know I had not forgotten about her marvelous bottom.

Much to my surprise, I found that while I very much enjoyed my initial, very direct explorations of her sweet cheeks, when I changed to the more nuanced reconnaissance of her luscious figure, it actually intensified my arousal tremendously. It was an epiphany, realizing that I was in the middle of the restaurant, having socially acceptable foreplay with my oh-so-desirable mother.

Mom definitely noticed and appreciated the change in my attentions, hugging me closer, again whispering in my ear.

“You’re a fast learner and a very good dancer, son. You know exactly how to treat a lady and make her feel special,” she breathed, her own hand running lightly over my ass.

“But it has to be the right lady, Mom,” I grinned back.

“I’m going to have to watch myself around you, young man. You are a dangerously charming fellow.”

With some surprise, we noticed that we were alone on the dance floor. The band had finished its first set and we hadn’t even noticed – an hour had gone by like the snapping of fingers.

Offering Mom my arm, I led her back to our table. “Step this way, gorgeous. We have a dinner waiting for us.”

Our meal was excellent and the service unobtrusive, which I greatly appreciated. We concentrated on enjoying each other’s company and I found myself really feeling as though I were on a date with a beautiful woman. Mom was absolutely captivating, putting me completely under her spell (as if I wasn’t already totally besotted with her.) Our conversation was scintillating, engaging, humorous and adult. More than once, I found myself thinking “How can a woman this beautiful, this intelligent and this alluring not have men crawling out of the woodwork to be with her?” I mentally shrugged my shoulders and rejoiced at the male race’s collective loss and my gain, at the same time noting that the band had returned to the dais.

We broke from our entrees for a second round of dancing, which was even more amazing than the first, if that was possible. As I took Mom in my arms, she immediately steered us to the far corner of the dance floor. Pressing herself close to me, she caressed my back and shoulders as we moved together, her touch more insistent, lingering and overtly sensual than before. She murmured appreciation as I discretely cupped her ass cheek with one hand, lightly grinding her pelvis against me. Then, unbelievably, her hand found its way to the tented front of my trousers, lightly running her palm over my hardness.

I was so startled I almost stumbled. I certainly had fantasized about Mom touching my cock, but I never expected the first time to be in public! It was bold, stimulating and very unexpected. I was awestruck as I considered the implications. Mom’s actions were like the briefest glimpse through a keyhole into a room crammed with sexual possibilities, hinting that the woman I held in my arms was far more sensuous, possibly far more uninhibited than I had ever imagined.

Mom was looking at me as she surreptitiously caressed my cock through my slacks, a mischievous smile lighting up her face as she took in my eyes widening in shock, as well as my gasp of pleasure. Slipping her other hand behind my neck, she gently drew me down to whisper in my ear.

“I’m having a wonderful evening, darling. Thank you so much for everything. I wish we could be like this all night.”

Cupping her chin in my hand, I looked into her blue pools and murmured “It’s entirely my pleasure, Mom. I’m so happy to be here with you – it’s another one of my dreams, finally coming true.”

Slipping her arms up my back and around my shoulders, she tilted her head to mine and kissed me thoroughly, tongue lightly dancing with mine as she lightly pressed herself against my throbbing groin. As our kiss intensified, her thrusting became more overt and my excitement became almost unbearable.

Breaking our kiss with great reluctance, I pulled back slightly. “If we keep this up, I’m going to have a messy problem, Mom.”

Eyes sparkling with amusement, she ran a finger over my bulging front one last time and then took my hand, leading us back to our table.

“We certainly can’t allow that, handsome. Let’s have some dessert and cool things down for a while. You’re severely tempting me tonight, you hunk,” she breathed. I jumped a little as she patted my ass.

“The feeling’s mutual, Mom,” I replied softly. “Never in my life have I seen you looking so beautiful.”

Our desserts arrived, but neither of us were really interested, just picking at them while we spent most of the time gazing at each other, sharing an occasional kiss. Nearly simultaneously, we pushed our plates away and looked at each other. Mom smiled and reached out, placing her hand over mine.

“Thanks again, Ricky. It’s been a fantastic evening. Can we go home now?”

“As my lady wishes.” Mom snuggled in close to me while I settled our tab and then we got up, linking arms and strolling to the front entrance. Lydia was waiting at the limo, door open and engine idling.

“Good evening. Did you have a good time?”

Mom beamed and squeezed my arm tightly. “It was wonderful, thanks.”

After we settled into the back, Lydia turned to face us. “Where can I take you? Any clubbing planned?”

Mom was seated as close to me as possible, her hand idly tracing over the top of my upper thigh. I replied, “No thank you, Lydia. I think we’ll be heading home now.”

Mom gave my thigh a caressing squeeze of approval, seeming to promise that our evening was not yet over. Lydia nodded once and smiled, again raising the partition as we pulled away from Sorvino’s.

All the way home, we cuddled and necked, our kisses becoming more and more passionate as we wound our way back to the house. Mom’s hands were all over me, caressing my back, my shoulders and chest. In turn, I ran my hands over her flanks and spine, bringing them around and forward to lightly brush her breasts. Mom leaned into me harder, her hand unbuttoning my shirt to reach my skin. Her touch was warm, gentle and incredibly exciting. I tentatively raised my hand to cup one of her breasts, rubbing her nipple lightly with my thumb.

Moaning slightly into our kiss, her hand clenched my thigh as she thrust her tongue urgently into my mouth, lashing at my own. As I increased the pressure on her breast, her hand cupped my crotch, lightly squeezing and stroking, gently exploring the length and circumference of my hardness.

Nearly out of my mind with excitement, I placed my hand on the upper edge of her gown, looking at her with an unspoken question in my eyes. Mom bit her lower lip and tensed for a moment, and then relaxed, smiling warmly. Somehow, at that point, I knew Mom had made some kind of internal decision. Things were changing again.

“Yes, darling, please,” she whispered, stroking my cheek.

Still, I paused, having been down this road before. It had been the night of my dreams so far and I still was having difficulty knowing what Mom felt comfortable with at any given time. I was burning for her, but I didn’t want to ruin our perfect evening.

Running her hands through my hair, Mom pulled me back up to her face, looking into my eyes with tenderness, lust and a touch of knowing compassion as well.

“It’s okay, my love. It’s what I want, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid.”

I groaned and sucked in a huge lung full of air, pulling down sharply on the band of fabric flowing over her left breast, allowing it to pop into view. I was close to blacking out, not realizing I had been literally holding my breath.

Mom gasped sharply as I quickly bent to take her nipple into my mouth, sucking gently and rolling my tongue over its rubbery hardness. Her hands found the back of my neck and head, holding me in place, stroking my hair, as I tasted her for the first time.

There are no words for what that felt like, the combination of flavor, the smell of her perfume, the elastic stiffness of her nipple between my lips.

“Ohhh, honey, that’s sooo nice,” she sighed, drawing my head to her more closely. “You make Mommy feel so good, baby.”

Encouraged by her response, I took her breast more firmly in hand, pulling as much of her flesh into my mouth as possible. I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to suckle her. It was an outrageously erotic combination of desire, tenderness and comfort, a completely forbidden collision of lust and a return to deeply ingrained childhood memories. It was the most exciting sexual experience of my life to that point, and Mom appeared to be as excited as I was.

As I continued my oral assault on her breast, Mom’s hand again trailed its way to my crotch, feverishly kneading my erection. I was right on the edge, excited beyond belief, when I felt her fingers scrabbling for my fly. Groaning around her saliva-slicked breast flesh, I arched my back, thrusting my pelvis up to her questing fingers. If it was possible, Mom began kissing me even harder, biting my lower lip, sucking my tongue into her mouth. I was mere seconds away from exploding in my pants.

Just as her hand found the tab to my zipper, the Benz came to a stop. We were home. We pulled back quickly from one another, breathless, pulses thundering with illicit passion. With a sharp pang of regret, I loosened my hold on her breast, carefully tucking it back into her dress. At the same time, Mom drew her hand away from my groin, trailing her fingers along my thigh, as though loathe to relinquish any contact with me. Lydia announced our arrival through the intercom and after a discrete delay, tapped on the window of the door. I opened it, stepped out and took Mom’s hand in mine, assisting her out on to the sidewalk. She was slightly unsteady on her feet, gripping my arm tightly.

As I handed Mom out of the car, I glanced over to Lydia. She grinned and whispered, “Your mo…um, date is a beautiful lady.” She then winked knowingly, tipped her cap and slid back behind the wheel. I tipped her generously and then escorted Mom up the walkway to the front of the house as the limo slowly cruised off into the night.

The porch lamp dimly illuminated the front stoop; small swarms of moths and other insects orbiting randomly within its pale cone of amber light. The evening was warm and humid with the residual heat of the August day, the air close and slightly stifling around us. A symphony of crickets and frogs accompanied us on our walk forward.

Standing on the porch, I fumbled with the house keys briefly before getting things unlocked. As I pushed the door open, standing to one side for Mom to pass, she paused and turned towards me. Reaching up with both hands, she cupped my face and drew me down into a smoldering kiss. She put all of her concentration and effort into it, silently telling me with her tongue, teeth and lips how she was feeling. When we broke to breathe, I felt like I was floating on air.

“Jesus,” I whispered softly. “You are unbelievable, Mom. Nobody has ever kissed me like that, nobody.”

Looking up to me, she stroked my cheek, smiling gently. “When something really matters, you need to give it everything you’ve got…I love you, Ricky.”

I gathered her into my arms and she crossed hers around my neck. I returned her kiss, trying to give as good as I had just gotten. I seemed to do okay, because Mom moaned into my mouth and ran her fingers through my hair, pressing up against me. When we pulled apart again, we were both breathing in gasping wheezes, overwhelmed by our sensations and emotions.

“Whew! You’re not too shabby either, son. A girl could get addicted to being kissed like that,” she exhaled in a rush.

Suddenly realizing where we were, Mom looked up and down the street with a little concern and then took my hands, pulling me over the threshold. “Let’s take this inside, darling. We don’t want to worry about prying eyes.”

Settling herself with a visible shudder, Mom fussed with her hair for a moment and adjusted her dress, tugging on the hem. I’m still amazed that I had the presence of mind to offer her my arm before we stepped through the doorway.

Our proper, correct entrance into the house lasted about five seconds. As we stepped out of the illumination of the porch light, into the darkened foyer, Mom’s hand slid up from my elbow to my back and her other found my ass, pulling me roughly to her. Her chin tilted up and her lips parted, still moist from our last kiss. Never breaking our embrace, we stumbled into the living room and I found myself pushed on to the couch, Mom standing over me with her hands on her hips and the gleam of lust in her eyes.

“Well, well,” she drawled. “What do we have here?” she asked, her gaze clearly focused on the tent in the front of my slacks.

“It’s something that belongs to you, Mom,” I said with a smile. “Maybe you’d like to see what it is.”

Mom smiled back, brushing a stray lock of hair off her forehead as she spoke, “Perhaps, perhaps in due course, my fine young man. But in the mean time,” she purred, moving to stand athwart my legs, “There are other things that need doing.”

With that, she slid on to my thighs, her legs straddled outside of mine. She scooted up until our groins were nearly touching, her dress riding up over her hips, exposing the tops of her stockings and her red satin panties. Leaning in to kiss me again, I could feel the pressure of her thighs on mine and the heat of her crotch, panties stretched tight over her mons, her sex like a humid furnace next to my pulsing cock.

Her arms went around my neck again and she stooped to conquer, her lips almost bruising mine with the intensity of her kiss. As her tongue found mine, her hand again made its way to my crotch, stroking, grasping, pulling, caressing. My own found their way to her satin-encased buttocks, pulling her against me. Mom groaned and kissed me harder.

Sliding my hands up her sides, I reached up to her shoulders, finding a clasp on one side. As I pulled blindly, it gave way with a slight pop and the top half of the dress slid down to her waist in a soft whisper of fabric over smooth skin. With the sudden release of tension, her breasts practically fell into my eager, impatient hands. Wasting no time, I pulled her close, capturing a nipple in my mouth, again lost in the glorious sensation of nursing, licking and teasing, this time drawing not milk, but lusty moans from my mother.

As she cradled my head against her breasts, she bent her head to my ear, whispering in a confessional tone, “When you were a baby, sometimes I would cum when you nursed. I loved having my titties sucked. It’s so nice to feel that again.”

Groaning inarticulately, I tried to stuff as much of Mom’s slick tit flesh into my mouth as I could, mouthing, sucking, lightly chewing as though possessed.

“Oh God, Ricky, that’s so good,” she exhaled, shuddering. “Suck momma’s titties some more, baby. Oh yes. Yesssss,” she hissed.

As I suckled, Mom’s hands were busy at my belt, almost frantic in their serial search for my buckle, button and fly. These obstacles were eventually overcome and I felt her fingers jerk down my zipper, the bulge of my straining rod pushing against the front of my exposed boxers. As her hands began to stroke again, only the slight barrier my briefs separated her hand from my cock, the thinness of the fabric allowing her to fully encircle my girth for the very first time.

As she explored my length, she cooed, “Oooh, baby, you have such a nice one.”

“So big and hard, so big and hard for me,” she said, a rising note of wonder in her voice.

“Just for me, my baby, just for your own mother,” she whispered, a quiet note of triumph ringing in her words.

There was something in the way she said those few sentences, an erotic fusion of affection, frank, outright lust and strangely, motherly pride, which set me absolutely burning with desire and love. With an inarticulate growl of passion, I redoubled my sucking of her breasts, bringing my hands back to her waist and then thrusting them beneath the fabric of her panties to grasp the naked cheeks of her ass for the very first time.

The feel of her smooth, round globes beneath my hands was astounding. The taut silkiness of her buttocks was indescribable. When I slid my hands beneath her to cup her ass, she pressed her groin fully against me, throwing her arms around my neck to administer a fiery kiss.

“Oh, Ricky, what you do to me,” she sighed.

As she spoke, she began a slow, deliberate thrusting against my groin, moaning into my mouth as she continued to kiss me.

“Ahhhh, Mommmm,” I groaned in return.

Continuing our deep kiss, I returned her thrusts, reveling in the sensation of her moist panties against my groin. Never breaking our kiss, I sensed Mom’s hands drifting down to my waist, tugging insistently at my waistband. With a small grunt of effort and an assist from me raising my hips, she lifted her hips from the top of my thighs and frantically pushed the slacks to my ankles. Settling back into my lap with a sigh, she resumed her grinding against me.

Free of the partial imprisonment of my slacks, I was separated from heaven by two insubstantial barriers, Mom’s juice-saturated panties and my own boxers, rapidly dampening from my own precum and mother’s moistness. The wetness of our groins combined to produce an incredibly arousing slightly slippery friction as we rubbed against each other. As she ground her pussy against me, I could feel the length of my cock, nestled against her wetness, splaying her lips apart as we dry fucked against each other. She whimpered as each cycle of our thrust and grind brought my head and shaft into contact with her clit.

The incredible sensation of almost fucking my mother had me rapidly approaching the point of no return and Mom’s movements were becoming more rapid and jerky, as she seemed to ascend her own crest. Breaking our ongoing kiss, head down and breathing in short gasps, she seemed to be watching our groins thrust together. Shuddering, she moaned in my ear, tongue lightly tracing over its edge.

“Ohhhh God, baby. You feel so nice,” she sighed, moist exhalation warming the side of my neck.

I was already out of my mind with desire and the amazing sensations radiating from my groin, but as aroused as I was, that simple act of lightly pushing her tongue into my ear did something to me. It was like the last brushstroke that makes a simple picture into a masterpiece. It simply took my excitement to an entirely new plane. I wasn’t capable of a single coherent thought.

But it didn’t matter anyway, because Mom had latched back onto my mouth with another ferocious kiss, trying to completely devour me. All I could do was clutch her ass tighter, kneading her cheeks with almost brutal intensity. Then I was beyond the edge, squeezing her ass as hard as I could, thrusting against her, pulling her cheeks apart.

“Ohhhh, Mom! Ohhh, Mom! Cumming, Mom! I’m cumming! Ahhhhhhhhh!”

As I flooded my underwear with a seemingly endless stream of pulsing semen, Mom tore her mouth from mine, thrusting herself against me with her full strength, a keening moan torn from her throat.

“Oh my God! Ohhhh, shit! Oh, baby! I’m cumming! Mommy’s cumming too!” she wailed.

All was a chaos of gasping breaths, sweaty limbs, tangled garments, post-coital twitches and shudders for a few minutes and then we gradually came to ourselves.

Mom’s arms were draped over my shoulders, her head down, forehead resting just beneath my chin. As she gasped out the final dregs of her orgasm, I could feel the tips of her still-hard nipples lightly scraping against my chest, our sodden crotches still pressed tight against each other. I reluctantly relinquished my grip on her ass cheeks, bringing my hands up to rest on her waist.

Tilting her head up, she kissed me softly but thoroughly, each of us savoring the other’s tongue. We continued with our kisses for several minutes, enveloped in a silence broken only by the sounds of our breathing, lightly touching and caressing.

After a last, very tender kiss, Mom leaned forward, her forehead touching mine, arms around my neck. There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t seem to marshal my feelings into any coherent words, so I simply whispered, “I love you, Mom.”

She smiled, touched my cheek and got up off my lap. As she stood, her dress slid off her hips to drop to the floor in a crimson, iridescent puddle. Standing before me, unashamed, panties wet, nipples still erect, she held out her hand to me.

“C’mere big boy. Give your mother another kiss.”

Rising up into her arms, she pulled me close and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, giving me another searing kiss. Her hands roamed over my back and ass, squeezing me just as I had done to her minutes earlier. Pressing close, she rubbed her breasts against my chest, nipples hard as pink diamonds. I became hard again within a minute, Mom smiling appreciatively as she noticed my resurgence against the damp front of her panties.

“Mmmm, ‘youth must be served’,” she chuckled, palming my erection.

Groaning as she felt me through my boxers, I bent to kiss the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking and licking, tracing the cord of her neck and her collarbone with my tongue. Throwing her head back with a moan, Mom squeezed my cock firmly and began a deliberate stroking motion. I was beside myself with arousal. I had only come a few minutes ago, but I was leaking precum like a sieve all over again. Mom seemed to know exactly how to excite me, how to drive me absolutely crazy with pleasure, and she still hadn’t actually touched my bare skin!

Trailing my kisses and tonguing across her shoulder, I bent lower to capture one of her nipples again, her free hand again moving to lightly hold the back of my neck as I feasted, her fingers toying with the curls at the nape of my neck.

“Oh, sweetheart, baby, that’s wonderful,” she sighed. “You suck my titties so nicely…ahhh!” she exhaled, reacting to a gentle bite delivered to her teat. Somehow, I knew instinctively that she’d love that light nip.

I was in heaven again, at my mother’s breast, her hands running through my hair, at the same time almost standing outside myself in utter amazement. I had never been a boob man growing up, in the sense that bigger was always better, but there was something about what I was doing with Mom, something so basic, loving, so arousing, so intimate that it defied all description or explanation. I knew I could stay attached to her nipple, devoting my sole attention to her breasts for hours, but Mom had other ideas.

Apparently changing her mind about getting up, she gently propelled me back to the sofa, pushing me on to my back, laying fully on top of me, grinding her pelvis against mine. We seemed to melt into a single squirming, panting and thrusting entity, lips fused, hands wandering freely over each other.

As Mom continued to stroke me through my boxers, I carefully, tentatively moved my hand on to her haunch, slowly taking in the satin smoothness of her skin and the underlying tautness of her muscles. Moving my palm between her legs, I reveled in the slightly plump softness of her inner thighs, slowly questing higher. Sighing her approval as I tentatively sought her treasure, Mom opened her legs, acquiescing fully to my explorations. When I cupped her mound, she drew in a sharp, shuddering breath. The experience was overwhelming; I was touching my Mom! Even though it was through her panties, it was still the most glorious thing I had ever experienced. The sensation of smooth satin against my fingertips, the hothouse heat of her crotch, the slight seepage of moisture, the wiry texture of her pubic hair, felt though the slick material and spilling out from the sides of the gusset, they excited me beyond any capacity of coherent thought.

As my fingers slid back and forth along the concealed groove of her slippery wetness, Mom moaned into my mouth, her hand grasping my own hardness with increasing strength and purpose. What were once deft caresses of exploration and introduction were now overtly erotic. While she jacked me off through my briefs, my own fingers were in search of the concealed treasure underneath her panties, but when my fingers slid under the edge of her gusset, she squeezed her legs back together and minutely shook her head, slightly breaking our kiss.

I don’t know how I managed to restrain my hands, but there was still just enough blood flowing to the big head that I could hear a little voice that sounded uncannily like hers saying, “Don’t be greedy, Ricky.” I modified my touch, moving back to the center of the strip of fabric.

“That’s good, baby, oh yes. That’s so good,” she murmured, thrusting herself against my hand. Her panties were now absolutely saturated, the thinness of the silky fabric combining with her moisture to actually enhance the shape and definition of the delights behind that insubstantial barrier. The tactile impressions were amazing; a slight crinkle of pubic hair, the raised, meaty prominence of her lips on the sides of her divine groove and if I pressed, a sopping indentation that marked her portal. If I pressed hard, making Mom moan, there was an audible squelch as lubricious parts rubbed against each other. It was heavenly.

As we lay together on the couch, kissing wetly and furiously, I was completely overwhelmed by different sensations I was experiencing. So many amazing, wonderful things were happening at once, I could barely take it all in, each sensation by itself enough to drive me insane with pleasure. If it wasn’t the dance of our tongues together, it was the feel of her hard nipples against my chest. If it wasn’t the moans and grunts of pleasure I would hear when our kisses broke, it was the lusty stroking of my cock through my boxers, being flat out jacked off by my own mother. If it wasn’t that, it was the sound of my hand rubbing her sopping panties, liquid friction, slurping and squelching. If not those things, then the incredible, rich bouquet of powerfully aroused woman bathing my nostrils.

All too quickly, my synapses seized again and I was consumed by spasms of pleasure. Breaking my kiss with Mom, I groaned in her ear.

“Oh God, Mom. I gonna cum! I gonna cum again! Oh, Mom! Ohhh Mom!

OH MOM OH MOM!” I cried out as I spurted again in my underwear.

My cries of pleasure and release drove Mom over the brink as well, her thighs capturing my hand in a soft but unyielding vise as she thrust her sex against my palm, shuddering and whimpering as she came against my fingers.

For a while, we remained entwined, Mom in my lap with her legs unashamedly splayed over my thighs, lightly kissing every few moments as we settled back to earth. Her saturated panties and the glory within remained pressed up against my flaccid, sticky crotch. The sensation of our groins pressed together, the sheer novelty of the very idea was driving me out of my mind, but I was temporarily extinguished, with two very intense orgasms in rapid succession having put my little friend down for the count, at least for the moment.

Wrapping her arms around my neck, Mom drew me close for another kiss, this one tender, thorough and gentle. Rising off my lap, she trailed her fingers down my shoulders, lightly caressing my biceps, before reaching my hands, which she then grasped, pulling me to my feet.

Adding one more deep, sweet kiss, she said, “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Ricky. Everything about it was so special. I love you so much, son.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

Smiling wistfully, she turned away from me, almost with an air of regret, I thought and began walking towards the stairs to her bedroom.

“I’ve got a big day tomorrow, sweetheart. I need to pack before I go to the airport. I’m going to bed.”

I remained standing by the sofa, slacks around my ankles while I watched her amazing ass twitching and quivering beneath her panties as she walked to the stairs. I began to get hard all over again.

Sensing my gaze on her divine bottom, Mom paused and looked over her shoulder as she reached the first step, smiling indulgently. As she took in the new tube steak I was cooking up in my gooey shorts, her eyes widened in surprise.

“Jesus, Ricky! Is it ever NOT hard?”

“Not around you Mom, not ever.”

Chuckling, she shook her head, turned back towards the stairs and then pulled her panties, off, stripper style, shimmying them to her feet with a series of seductive twitches. Without looking back, she bent over in a lewd display, exposing her still moist slit and tight pucker as she gathered the saturated wad of fabric into her hand.

My jaw was on the floor and my erection was once again pink stone, jutting straight out through the fly of my boxers, twitching with my pulse.

With a casual flip of her wrist, she blindly tossed her panties over her shoulder towards me and I reached out reflexively to catch the wet delivery.

“There’s a little souvenir for you, Mister Energizer Bunny. That’s going to have to hold you until momma gets back from Vancouver, so don’t wear it out too quickly,” she laughed. With that, she went up the stairs, hips rolling and went into her room. She closed her door softly and within a minute, the light went out and the house became quiet.

I stood stock still by the sofa for a few astounded moments, incredibly turned on as well as bemused by mom’s exit. Gradually, the wisps of post orgasmic and returning horny fog cleared from my brain and I realized what treasure I held in my hands. Leaving my pants behind, I made a beeline for my own bedroom.

Flinging myself onto the bed, I brought Mom’s sopping panties to my face, inhaling her scent as I furiously stroked my resurgent cock, almost with a painful intensity and speed. As I sucked her essence from the gusset, I imagined I was eating her out for real, savoring my first real, albeit indirect sample of my mother’s gorgeous pussy!

It was the most wonderful thing I have ever tasted.

My orgasm crashed through me suddenly, without any warning, as I sprayed a huge quantity of juice all over my chest and belly. You would have thought that with the amount I ejaculated that I hadn’t come in a month, such was the intensity of my release. It was the best jacking off cum I’d ever experienced and I felt as limp as a flatworm as the last dribbles of semen oozed from my dick.

It must have been at least ten or fifteen minutes before I had enough energy to get out of bed and clean myself up. Crawling back under my covers, I fell asleep in moments, a smile on my face and Mom’s perfect panties still clutched in my hand. I slept ten hours straight.


I woke up the next morning to the sounds of Mom working in the kitchen. I felt absolutely and totally on top of the world, completely unbeatable. It seemed that Mom and I were inches away from being lovers, and if last night was any indication, it could happen any time. Making love with my gorgeous Mom was finally within my grasp, and If it could happen at a moment’s notice I reasoned, then why not now, I asked myself. All that was necessary was a little nudge, a little direct action, I thought.

So, armed with my morning wood, my few functioning brain cells pickled by testosterone and a complete lack of common sense, I dressed quickly and walked downstairs, ready to precipitate the Big Fuck.

Problem was, it didn’t turn out to be the Big Fuck, more of the Big Fuck Up. Jesus, I was so stupid, so selfish, but I couldn’t see it. I was out of control. I was so consumed by the thought of finally getting inside Mom that I nearly destroyed everything.

Strolling into the kitchen, I saw Mom working at the sink. I casually sauntered up behind her, putting an arm around her waist while I pulled her hair off her neck with the other, planting a warm, prolonged kiss where it met her shoulder.

Shuddering slightly, she turned to kiss me.

“Morning, Ricky. Did you sleep well?”

As I replied, my hands circled around to the front of her dress, resting on her hips.

“Like royalty, Mom. I had wonderful dreams.”

“I’ll bet you did, you…”

Her breath caught in her throat as my hands found their way upward, cupping her breasts through the brocaded fabric of the dress bodice.

“Ricky, that’s so nice, but you need to cut it out, sweetie. I really don’t have time for this right now!” she said with a note of slight reproach in her voice.

“It feels good, but you can’t just grope me in broad daylight, any time you feel like it!” she exclaimed, a note of anxiety creeping into her voice.

“”But Mom,” I groaned, “You turn me on soooo much. I need you,” I pleaded, grinding my erection against her ass.

“Enough! There’s no time for this now!” she snapped, this time with real anger.

Oblivious, I continued to grind against her, pawing her breasts and pinching her nipples. I felt like I was watching myself from a distance, completely consumed by lust, my own personal Mr. Hyde suddenly released into the world, ready to wreak sexual havoc on my unsuspecting Mom. The loving, devoted son I knew myself to be was gone, replaced by a brute I could not recognize. All of the previous months and years of suppressed longings and unfulfilled fantasies seemed to be boiling to the surface of a caldera of white hot desire, ready to spill over into a full fledged eruption of lust. I was burning up and could not stop what I was doing to save my life.

“That’s enough, buster!” she said forcefully. “Stop that this minute or you’ll be sorry!”

My response was to pin her harshly against the kitchen counter with my pelvis and torso, continuing to grind away at her ass while I fondled her breasts. By now, Mom was actively struggling against me, trying to break free, grunting with effort, but to no avail. I simply overpowered her with my strength.

By now a note of panic had enter her voice. Her eyes were wide with fear and I think, not a little loathing. Her mouth was beginning to take on the set of barely suppressed anger.

“For God’s sake Ricky, please don’t do this! Please stop, honey, you’re hurting me! You’re hurting me!”

The beast had taken over, though, and my ears were deaf to her pleas. Thrusting against her ass, I worked my shorts down to my ankles and then hunched to bring my erection beneath the hem of her dress. Rising up, I levered my cock up between her clenched thighs, right to the base of her panties.

At that moment, Mom shouted, “Stop it! Stop it! Someone’s coming, Ricky! Stop it now!” She was almost crying at this point.

In the haze of my uncontrolled lust, I rationalized that it was just a ploy to stop me from achieving my long-sought goal. As I continued to saw my cock between the softness of her thighs and her bottom, I felt my seed rising uncontrollably, such was my excitement. As I struggled to gain an angle of attack to get past the edge of her panties, several things happened.

I heard the front door open and a voice called out.

“Hello? Hello? Jennifer, are you home? It’s Marcia, do you have some time to talk?”

As I heard the voice, I felt a rising sense of panic that did little to reduce my drive to release. Marcia was the neighborhood gossip, a divorcee who didn’t work and spent most of her time as the self-appointed social doyenne of the neighborhood. She was nosy, insatiably curious, occasionally vindictive and possessed an uncanny knack for discovering embarrassing secrets.

The very real peril should she discover us did little to deter my ongoing assault on Mom’s virtue. As I heard Marcia’s steps slowly progressed down the hall towards us, I came between Mom’s thighs, shamefully squirting a load of sticky white juice all over the bottom of her panties and her upper thighs.

I frantically pulled my shorts up and practically dove into the kitchen nook as Mom struggled to pull her dress hem down over her ass. No more than a second or two later, Marcia appeared in the doorway.

Marcia stood very still for a moment and then spoke, apparently struggling to maintain a matter of fact tone, nodding at me.

“Good morning, Rick. I stopped by because I wanted to ask your mother a couple of questions. It seems though, that this might not be, ummm, the best timing for you guys,” she said carefully neutral, glancing at Mom’s legs. “If it’s okay with you Jennifer, perhaps I’ll come by a little later when it’s more convenient.”

With that, Marcia turned and left, slowly walking back to the foyer, where she let herself out quietly. She had kept expression neutral while speaking to us, but as she passed by me, I thought I saw her face slip into an expression of real shock.

My own gaze turned to where Marcia had glanced at Mom’s legs and my eyes widened. I could clearly see a glistening rivulet of semen running down the inside of her knee, making its way to her calf. In turn Mom directed her gaze in the same direction and gasped when she saw the telltale of my lust.

Eyes flashing and flushed with rage, Mom strode to the nook and grabbed me by the arm jerking me to my feet, hissing with rage.

“Upstairs, right this minute!”

I have never heard such anger or venom in her voice. Her grip on my arm was so tight, so painful, that I thought her nails were going to draw blood. My heart was in my mouth and between our terribly close call and Mom’s obvious fury, I knew that things were going to hit the fan, big time.

She practically dragged me upstairs to her bedroom. Thrusting me roughly through the door, into the center of the room she kicked the door shut as we passed over the threshold. She spun me around and what she did next shocked me to my core.

I never saw her hand move, but the blow was so swift and hard that it snapped my head back and I bit my tongue. The left side of my face was on fire and I could taste the coppery bitterness of my own blood in my mouth. Never in the 22 years of my life had Mom raised a hand against me. I had been grounded, sent to my room and forfeited privileges in the past for my misbehavior for some pretty serious transgressions, including nearly burning down our work shed when I was 10 while playing with matches and paint thinner, and wrecking the family car after having my license for only 2 months, but those were over and forgiven once I completed my penance for those mistakes. They were never mentioned again.

As Mom stood before me, her chest heaved and her eyes glinted with a cold fury I had never seen before. She had struck me so hard that her left breast had popped out of the bodice of her sundress in all its glory. The nipple was still erect from my previous caresses and I could see the slight glint of my saliva on her rosy pink areola. A small rivulet of my spend was visible on the inside of one of her knees, slowly dripping down to her calf. There were small whitish drops of my drying semen on the toes of both shoes.

She looked me over with a measuring glance, taking in the slight bulge of my now flaccid cock within my gym shorts and the dampness on the front of my pants. She took in a deep breath and I knew that my world was about to come to a crashing end.

“What the FUCK do you think you were doing?”

I was completely stunned. Mom had never, ever sworn at me before. In the past, she had always made a point to convey any anger with me in civilized, albeit scathing language.

“How could you be so careless and selfish? I told you no, and I meant no! But you wouldn’t listen! You let you penis do your thinking for you and now that gossipmonger Marcia has suspicions about us! You wouldn’t listen to me and you FORCED yourself on me, just because you needed to cum.”

Her voice dripped with contempt, harsh with anger and slightly tremulous with fear, but I could also see tears starting to fill her eyes. The sadness I could see there was infinite, bottomless. I felt like I was going to die of shame. There was an ash taste of despair and loss in my mouth and I was consumed by a wave of nausea and dread.

“I knew it was a mistake to let us cross the line, but I loved and trusted you. I had thought that even though nobody else might understand, what happened between us was our special, loving secret. Now it appears that I am just a kinky way to get your rocks off. Well, I’ve got a news flash for you, buster. I am not a receptacle for you slimy lust. I will NOT be treated with such disrespect and I will NOT allow this to progress one inch farther. I want you to go to your room and stay there. I’m calling a cab to take me to the airport and you will not come down until I’m gone. Now get out.”

There was so much I wanted to say, but all I could do was stare at my feet and mumble “I’m sorry Mom.” That set off a new eruption.

“Sorry doesn’t even come close to cutting it. Do you have even the faintest conception of what could happen if this gets out? I could lose EVERYTHING. All the things I gave up to raise you, the long hours of work at the practice, my law license, it could all be gone just like THAT! She snapped her fingers under my nose. “God knows what my mother and father would have thought of all this. They made tremendous changes in their own lives for ME, delaying their own plans so that I could graduate high school but still be at least a part time Mom to you while you were a baby. They were your day care as I was finishing college and made sure you were safe and loved while I worked my day job and went to law school at night. And now this…all of the sacrifices that have been made on your behalf are next to worthless, because you needed an orgasm. Well, I hope you enjoyed it, because there won’t be another one, ever,” she hissed, disgust and rage mingled in her voice.

I looked up at Mom. Tears were now flowing freely down her face. Her cheeks were red and blotchy and her normally well-coiffed hair was in disarray, partly hanging over her face. Her eyes were puffy and swollen now, bloodshot with her distress. She had tucked her breast back into the bodice of her sundress but still looked beautiful to me. Beyond that initial impression, I was too stunned to think. I simply could not grasp the enormity of my mistake

Quietly, but with steely determination, Mom said, “I meant it, Richard. Go to your room this instant. I need to get cleaned up to leave.”

I stared at her uncomprehendingly, rooted to the spot, unable to process what had just transpired between us. At that point, Mom lost it for real.

Screaming at the top of her lungs, she threw a perfume bottle from her vanity at me.

“Get out you asshole! You son of a bitch, GET OUT!”

She burst into tears and stumbled into her bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Choking back a sob, I fled. My shame and haste to leave was so great I caromed off the doorframe and careened into the hallway, barely able to breath. I felt faint. My vision had reduced to a tunnel and there was roaring in my ears. Somehow, I found my way to my bathroom, where I promptly threw up into the sink, not even making it to the toilet. After I cleaned up I went to my room and crawled under the covers. My self-loathing and fear was beyond description. I felt as though my life had ended. I wept like a baby.

A short while later, I heard Mom get into the shower. In my distress, subjective time seemed to have slowed to a crawl, but it still seemed as though her shower was going on for an inordinately long period of time. I started to worry. Throwing caution to the wind, I crept back to the master bedroom. Mom’s travel clothes were laid out on the bed and her suitcase and carryon bag were by her vanity. It was then that I heard a soft thud. I could see that the bathroom door was open a crack.

With my heart in my mouth, I crept silently to the door on my hands and knees and put my eye up to the opening. I couldn’t see much except a small corner of the floor of the shower. I could see Mom’s calves and feet stretched out. From their position, I thought that she was probably sitting on the floor of the shower, legs out in front of her. It was then I heard a wracking cry, which quickly transformed into a retching sound and then a great burst of anguished sobbing. I saw Mom’s legs and feet shift, her knees drawing up and her upper body gradually coming into view as she curled into a fetal position on the floor the shower, her back to me. My emotional demolition now complete, I shakily got to my feet and staggered back to my room.

The next hour was probably the most difficult thing I have ever endured. I lay on my bed, ears attuned to the slightest sound. I heard Mom come out of her room with her luggage and the bumping of the suitcases as she dragged them down the stairs. I heard her moving around in the kitchen and the sound of the microwave as she reheated her coffee. Things were then quiet for about ten minutes, when I heard the taxi pull into the driveway. There was a sound of closing car doors and then silence.

I felt as though a great weight was pressing me into my bed and I couldn’t muster the energy to get up. Finally, after a long while, I found the strength to go downstairs. I went into the kitchen. The emptiness of the house fairly screamed at me. I could still my dried semen on the floor in front of the sink. The rest of the kitchen had been tidied up, plates and cups rinsed and put in the dishwasher. The coffeepot was unplugged. I cast my gaze over to the breakfast nook. It was then I saw the note on the table.

I slowly moved over to the table and picked up the single sheet of paper. My hands were shaking so badly that I could barely read her writing. Mom usually didn’t communicate with me by writing notes, so I was scared to my marrow as I began reading. “If she’s writing me a note, this is beyond horrible,” I thought to myself. Instead of a message of doom though, I read the following: “Richard (Mom NEVER calls me Richard and now she had done so twice today) – Here is a list of chores for you to do while I’m gone. There are a lot of things that need doing, so if you get started today, you should have them finished by Friday, when I get back. Mom”

Sitting down absently at the table, I tried to make sense of the past couple of hours and what the note meant in that context. The aftermath of my kitchen imposition (yes, I could now see it as such) was etched into my memory by acid. I could still recall every detail of every minute prior to Mom’s departure. As I leaned back in my chair against the wall of the nook, rubbing my bruised cheek, I kept coming back to one detail of Mom’s tirade. When she mentioned Nana and Gramp’s support of us as Mom finished her schooling, she didn’t say that they would have been ashamed of our intimacy. She only talked about how I had endangered all the effort they put into helping Mom get established so she could support us.

“Could it be that she doesn’t feel guilty about us?” I asked myself. A small glimmer of hope briefly flared in my heart, but I brought myself back to reality quickly enough. Mom was not the kind of person who agonized over mistakes. Perhaps our brief transgressions beyond the normal bounds of a mother and son’s relationship were just so much spilled milk, which she would clean up and deal with as best she could, probably by ignoring it and never mentioning it again. Once again I tasted despair. “Rick,” I thought to myself, “You are the biggest shit in the whole world. You just destroyed the most precious thing in your entire life for 2 minutes of selfish pleasure. What are you going to do now?”

The answer, I thought, was to be like Mom. Get tough and buckle down. What’s done is done and can’t be mended, so move forward as best you can. Be prepared to have to move out after Mom gets back from her trip. Forget about all of it.

I looked at the list of tasks Mom set for me and began planning. Perhaps a small apology could be made by doing an especially good job on the work in front of me. It probably wouldn’t ever repair the damage I did, but it was a beginning.

I threw myself into the work. The pool got its first serious cleaning and maintenance in a couple of years, including repairing the leaking circulating pump and a complete teardown and rebuild of the heater. The backyard privacy fence was stripped and repainted. I applied myself like a demon to the tasks at hand.

Having so much to do during the day was helpful, but the nights were absolute agony. I could barely sleep, and when I did, the montage of images running through my brain would invariably torture me to wakefulness. Our amazing Fourth of July kisses, the first time I felt her breast, feeling her against my aching cock as we danced at the supper club. The slap to my face. The first time I caressed her pussy through her panties. The smell of her sex and its wetness on my fingers. her curled on the floor of the shower, crying. I doubt that I slept more than 3 or 4 hours a night, in spite of my physical exhaustion.

It was Wednesday. Today was the day to take out that badly cracked section of concrete in the driveway and put in a patch. I had the wheelbarrow and cement mix ready to go and sledgehammer and crowbar ready. It was going to be a long, dirty job, but I was determined to do it superbly for Mom. I stripped off my shirt and got down to business. By now, I was totally buzzed on excess coffee, sleep deprivation and physical exhaustion. I was a total basket case. Normally, when Mom traveled on business, we’d talk nearly every night, sharing the trials and tribulations of life on the road and the pain of being away from home. This trip, though, the only thing I heard from her was a one-line text telling me she had landed safely in Vancouver. Since then, nothing. Not another text, no phone call, no nothing.

As I pounded through the monotony of breaking up the damaged concrete, my mind wandered. I remembered the spectacular Fourth of July, our first “date,” recalling the sparkle in Mom’s eyes as she slow danced with me in the club, her acquiescence to my caresses of her lovely bottom as we moved across the floor and the brief but insistent push of her pelvis against my raging erection as we finished our dance. I felt myself beginning to get hard, my cock slightly flexing against the front of my gym shorts.

“Hello – earth to Rick!”

Oh crap, who the…

It was Marcia McCleary. She was standing at the bottom of the driveway, trying to get my attention. I quickly turned slightly so my hardening rod wouldn’t be evident. Marcia was an attractive woman in her own right, but quite different in appearance from my mother. Where Mom was long and tall, Marcia was more petite and compact. She had lustrous brunette hair which she wore in a pageboy haircut. She favored conservative shorts and blouses when I had seen her in the past, which only partially concealed her athletic, trim figure.

Her bust was of average size, but the perpetually horny young male in me knew that the shape of her breasts was probably exquisite. By far and away though, her best feature was her ass. Even the somewhat old-fashioned shorts she wore did little to truly conceal its tightness and compactness. On more than one occasion in the past I had discretely admired her walking away from me, observing the captivating sway of her hips and the up and down oscillation of her cheeks that came with her quick, short stride.

One thing she had in common with Mom was that she was a single parent, also with a son, Shawn, just a couple of years younger than me. As I recalled, she frequently visited him on weekends at his college, which was about 200 miles away.

“Oh, Hi Marcia, is there something I could do for you?”

“There most certainly is, Rick. You seemed off in another world there while you were swinging that sledge. Your concentration was ferocious. I had to call you three times to get your attention.”

“Oh, yeah, well…I guess I was a little lost in thought.”

“Well, don’t think too hard there. You’re likely to hurt yourself with that big hard hammer.”

Shit, had she seen my wood? When she called to me she was a good 20 or 30 feet away, and I had by now subsided a little bit in my shorts, so I was probably okay. Still, the double entendre was hard to ignore. Here I was, dressed only in gym shorts, bare chested and streaming sweat. What was going on?

Casting only the briefest of glances at my crotch, Marcia became serious. “I came by to talk to Jenny – there are a couple of things I need to discuss with her, if she’s available.”

“Shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck and DAMN,” I thought to myself. “Here’s where the chickens come home to roost.” I was sure she wanted to confront Mom about the almost-seen events in our kitchen on Sunday. Our secret was going to be exposed for sure now. I had destroyed my mother’s life.

Somehow, through a miracle, I was able to compose my features and keep my voice steady. “Gee, Marcia, I’m sorry, but Mom is traveling on business this week. She went out to the west coast on Sunday, just a little while after you came by.”

“That’s too bad, I really wanted to have a chat,” she said, real disappointment in her voice.

“She’ll be back in about a week or so,” I volunteered. “You might try giving her a call in the middle of next week.” I knew there was no way that Mom would want to talk with Marcia right after arriving home Friday evening, and that we had to have our own conversation first, if for no other reason than me telling Mom that Marcia was probably going to lower the boom on her. I hoped that a few days to ourselves would allow us to do some planning for the impending catastrophe.

“Can you let her know I’d really like to see her, once she’s back? It’s not a big deal, really, it’s just that I’ve come to understand recently that we share some common interests. I just want to talk about those things, once she’s got some time,” she said sincerely.

The skepticism I felt about her motives must have been evident on my face, because she smiled reassuringly and patted my arm. “Relax, Rick. It’s just a social call. Something I’ve been meaning to do for a few days, that’s all.”

“I’ll let her know,” I replied, struggling to keep my voice neutral and expression blank.

Marcia cast what seemed to be a rather frank and appraising eye over me as I leaned on the sledgehammer. “I’ve been watching you work on the house for the past couple of days. You have been going about things like a man possessed. You really ought to slow down and pace yourself a bit,” she said with real concern. “You don’t want to be a wreck when your mom gets back.”

“Thanks, Marcia. I’ll try to bear it in mind. It’s just that there is a lot to do and I want to get it done right for Mom.”

I don’t know what possessed me to keep on talking, but there was something about Marcia’s interest in my well being that somehow felt genuine.

“I’m a bit in Mom’s doghouse right now,” I confessed. “This is my way of trying to get back into her good graces. We had a bad argument, you see.”

Marcia’s eyes widened briefly in surprise and then narrowed. She seemed to stare off into space, struggling with something. Finally she nodded once, as if to herself, coming to some kind of decision.

“Rick, back when Shawn was still in high school, we once had a serious falling out. It was bad enough that it could have affected us for a long, long time. In the end though, we were able to deal with the problem, mostly because we were totally honest with one another. Shawn had done something that made me very angry, but we worked it out eventually and in the end, we became much closer.”

“I guess what I’m saying is not to worry too much. As long as you are honest with your mom, I sure you’ll be able to put whatever your misunderstanding is behind you.”

“I think you’ll find that moms have a great capacity for forgiveness, Rick,” she said with a wry chuckle. “They have to develop it, especially if they are raising a son.”

She gave me a quick glance and began to walk back down the driveway. My heart was beating like a locomotive, and not from the exertion, as I turned over what she had just said in my head. She turned and looked back at me once as she walked away. “You’re all the son any mother could ask for, working so hard,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Jennifer is truly lucky to have you.”

My mouth was suddenly as dry as the Sahara and my tongue seemed to stick to the roof of my mouth. “Thanks, ” I finally croaked.

My mind was in absolute turmoil. I had the distinct feeling that Marcia absolutely knew that something was going on with Mom, and me, but at the same time, there seemed to be a restraint about her that hinted at the possibility of something less than an upcoming revelation of disaster. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I had a gut feeling that somehow, things might not turn out as badly as I feared. Some of the things she had said lead me to think that there might not be anything to worry about at all, but in any event, I knew that I shouldn’t take one single thing for granted about my current situation, so I put my small glimmer of hope back into a black box and locked it away from further examination.

It was late afternoon now, and I was sitting in the driveway, watching my concrete patch slowly dry. The afternoon light was ridiculously and mockingly beautiful. Golden light and shadows from the maple trees lining the driveway dappled the ground. I found myself desperately longing to share the waning light with Mom, sitting on the back porch as we had done many times in the past. On impulse, I picked up a twig lying next to me and scooted over to the patch. In bold strokes, I carefully scratched into the still-damp cement “R L J” and the date. For some reason, this gave me a small measure of comfort. I sighed, stood up and dusted myself off.

As I was stepping up onto the front porch, a delivery truck pulled into the driveway. I quickly ran back down the driveway to pull him up short, protecting my repair job. The driver got out of the truck and approached me.

“Express letter for Richard Lindermann,” he said briskly.

“That would be me,” I replied.

“Please sign.”

I examined the letter with frank curiosity. I was not expecting any communications from anyone, so I had no idea what to expect. There was no name on the sender, only a Vancouver address.

“Vancouver!” I thought. “Holy crow – is this from Mom?”

I tore it open on the spot with a perfunctory thank you. A single sheet of hotel stationary was enclosed. I recognized Mom’s writing immediately. As I read, my heart jumped into my throat.

Richard –

I am still sorting out how I feel about the events of Sunday. I am finding it difficult to do my work here because of worry about what Marcia McCleary may or may not have seen between us. Right now, I’m very conflicted about everything that’s happened since July 4th. As wonderful as some things have been, what happened on Sunday simply can’t be ignored. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do at this point, but things don’t seem the same now between us. I’m not sure that I can trust you anymore. We’ll talk after I get back, but I have to be honest and tell you right now that I’m very disappointed with the turn our relationship has taken. I’ll give you the credit that you are probably sorry about what happened, but there are times when that’s simply not enough. I’m trying very hard to be objective, but right now I’m not sure I can see a way to fix things between us.


P.S. Don’t bother about picking me up at the airport; I’ll be getting a cab home.

The slight glimmer of hope I felt after talking with Marcia still dimly flickered, but this letter was a body blow. “I’m not sure that I can trust you anymore “. Jesus, it looked as though Mom was going to totally and completely cut me out of her life. I shambled through the front door and into the foyer, slumping down against the wall. I don’t know how long I sat there, but when I finally roused myself it was full dark. Looking across the entryway into the living room, I could see the vase of roses I had gotten for Mom that preceding Friday. The drooping stems and scattered, shriveled petals of the dying flowers mocked me cruelly. Shuffling into the kitchen, I had some sardines and crackers and then went up to bed, anticipating another sleepless night. I don’t know how I managed it, but somehow I got around 7 hours of dreamless sleep.

Thursday and Friday were sheer agony. I managed to finish the task list to my satisfaction around 4 pm on Friday and went in to take a shower, my first in 5 days. As I stood under the running water, I glanced at my flaccid cock. Other than my morning piss hardons and the brief event in the driveway with Marcia McCleary, I had not had one waking erection since Mom had left. Quite a change for a guy who had fantasized about his Mom three or four times a day for the past 7 or 8 years. I stepped out onto the bath mat, dressed and went down to the kitchen. I still had not cleaned up the cum from in front of the kitchen sink. I had, I think, purposefully left it there to remind and punish myself about the follies of thinking with the little head. I still felt no need to clean it up.

I decided that the least I could do for Mom was to fix some dinner for her. I still had no appetite, but I wanted to welcome her home properly, regardless of what was in store for me. I set about making one of her favorites, linguine with Puttanesca sauce, taking care to execute everything perfectly. I set a bottle of Barolo on the kitchen table and opened it to breathe.

As I was finishing setting the table, I heard the cab pull up. I quickly went to the front door to turn on the outside lights. Mom got out of the back seat, dressed in her usual business attire of a plain, but form fitting black skirt with side buttons, a plain white blouse and short jacket. She looked haggard, but still beautiful to me. The cabbie quickly handed out her luggage and she began hauling it back to the house. Her path took her over my patch in the driveway and she seemed to pause briefly, inspecting the work. She appeared to nod once to herself, as she looked, my handiwork apparently passing muster for her. Sensing the need for restraint, I opened the door for her and took her luggage in hand. A brief peck on the cheek and I welcomed her home.

When I closed the door behind us, Mom simply stood there, staring at me. Her gaze was neutral, but I sensed that she was trying to decide if she was going say anything. I couldn’t bear her silence. It cut more deeply and hurt more sharply than any tirade or explosion could possibly do.

“Mom,” I began, stuttering in my nervousness, “I guess we should talk. Is that okay?”

Shaking her head slightly, her eyes continuing to bore into me. I thought I saw a strange mix of sadness, residual anger and even uncertainty in her expression.

“I have nothing I want to say to you right now, Richard,” she said tiredly.

“But can I say something?” I pleaded. Mom appeared to take in a breath, ready to shut me down, but I plunged on, ignoring her attempt to stop me.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I said miserably. “I don’t have the words, I feel so bad about what happened. It’ just…it’s just that I wanted to…wanted you…”

“All right, I’ll get right to the point, Richard,” she said resignedly, cutting me off. Clearly, she didn’t want to hear any apologies or explanations.

“I’m tired. I am emotionally exhausted. I am NOT prepared to discuss anything with you tonight or this weekend. I wish to be left alone until Monday. I’ve already called the office to take the day off, so we’ll have enough time to sort things out between us.

Her hard demeanor softened briefly and she gently touched her finger to my bruised cheek. “There are many things I am very sorry about right now,” she began, “Not the least of which was the way I slapped you on Sunday. Whatever else happens, I hope you can forgive me that. I was as angry with you as I have ever been in my life.”

I had a lump in my throat the size of a boulder. “It’s okay Mom, I got no more than I deserved. What I did…it was so selfish, I can’t believe I did it…it was like I was a different person, an animal. It was a horrible thing to do. I’m so sorry, so sorry, Mom,” I whispered, eyes wet with shame.

“I’m still very sorry I hit you. Of all the things that happened on Sunday, that was probably the least forgivable. I’ll never do that again, as long as I live.”

“That’s done and in the past as far as I’m concerned, Mom. Uhh, but there is something I have to tell you. Marcia was by on Wednesday. She wanted to talk.”

She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “I suppose that was to be expected. What did you say to her?”

“I told her that you might be back in the middle of next week and could talk then.”

“I’m glad you bought me a little time.” I hope I’ll be able to do some damage control in the meanwhile.”

“I made you some dinner,” I blurted awkwardly. “I thought you might be hungry after the flight.”

A small, but genuine smile flashed on her lips. “That was very considerate of you. I could use some of your cooking after the past week. Be a dear and run upstairs to draw me a bath. I want to eat quickly and have a nice long soak.”

I smiled and nearly ran upstairs. I carefully started filling her tub and put in some of her favorite bath oil. Scouting quickly around her bedroom, I found a single candle and lit it, placing it next to the tub. I double-checked the water temperature, making sure it was perfect.

As I headed back downstairs, I heard voices in the kitchen. Shit! It was Marcia. She must have been laying in wait, just itching to get her hooks into Mom. Their voices were low and I could not make out what was being said. I slowly started down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen. I felt as though I was heading for my own execution. They must have heard me coming down because the conversation paused. I heard Marcia’s voice.

“Please come into the kitchen, Rick.”

As I stepped though the door, the tension in the room was obvious. Marcia was leaning up against the refrigerator, as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Mom was seated in the breakfast nook, her hand clutching a glass of the Barolo so hard I thought it might burst.

Marcia spoke again, looking directly at me, smiling reassuringly.

“We have some serious things to discuss, so I hope you’ll give Jenny and me a bit of privacy for a few more minutes. Please don’t interrupt us. Now be a dear and go upstairs for a little while.”

I nodded mutely and went to sit at the top of the stairs, in an agony of suspense. The low tones of their conversation resumed for about 3 or 4 minutes. Suddenly, I heard the sound of breaking glass. I sprinted downstairs and slid into the doorway. Mom had dropped her wineglass, shattering it on the tile floor. She was mopping up the wine and glass shards, her face averted from Marcia. She was pale and visibly shaking. My first thought was that Marcia had revealed herself to Mom and that she knew our secret, but she glanced up at me briefly, mouthing silently, “Don’t worry.” She helped Mom finish cleaning up and briskly stood, appearing to squeeze Mom’s shoulder comfortingly as she got to her feet.

I was totally unprepared for what happened next. It remains to this day the single greatest and most dramatic surprise of my entire life. Marcia looked at me and crossed the room. She took both my hands in hers and said warmly and gently, “Your secret is completely safe with me. I hope you two can work things out. I’d like to think you both could be as happy together as Shawn and I are.” She pecked me on my cheek and then left quickly, quietly shutting the front door behind her.

By now, Mom had resumed her position in the kitchen nook. She was still trembling, looking as though she were about to faint.

I started towards her, but she immediately thrust her arm at me, palm outward. “No, Rick! Just come and sit down. We’re obviously going to have to talk now.” She took a deep breath and gazed at the ceiling, seeming to marshal her thoughts. She then turned to me, pain and confusion written on her face.

“I don’t know what to do, Rick,” she said miserably. “I’m so relieved and surprised about Marcia that I feel like I’m going to faint. But, I think…I think I’m going to need some time and space to figure this all out. Right now, I just don’t know if I can go forward. I just don’t know if we can work this out,” she sighed heavily.

I nodded dumbly.

Her face softened and a small smile formed on her lips. I thought I detected the faint sparkle in her eyes that I loved so much.

“I will always love you as my son,” she said softly. “I forgive you for what happened on Sunday. I am at fault much more than you are for letting things progress to that point. It was always in my power to stop things, had I chosen to do so. I let my own loneliness and your attentiveness get the better of me.”

She took in a deep breath and continued. “I hope that we will be able to get back at least a little of what we had before July 4th, over time. I don’t want you gone from my life and I hope you can accept this, because I think this is what I…I…I have to…must do… right now.” Her face was hard to read as she spoke. Her expression was tight and resolute, as though she was mustering all her internal strength to speak. At the same time, I could see real sadness in her eyes and almost an apologetic tone in her words.

She stood abruptly and strode past me. As she passed, she looked over her shoulder and gave me a ghost of a smile, something I never hoped for, and said “I’m going to get my bath and go to bed now. Tomorrow is a new day and a new beginning for us. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I slowly followed behind her. I didn’t even look at her ass as she climbed the stairs in front of me, even though I could have seen her panties completely.


There was no sleep for me that night. I was wracked by an overwhelming sense of loss and grief, unlike anything I had ever felt in my life, even surpassing when Gramps and Nana had died. I felt as though the future now held nothing for me, just endless struggle and dull, gray decades, stretching ahead to a lonely grave. Around four in the morning, I gave up and went down to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. I slowly crawled into a somewhat alert state of buzzed exhaustion and contemplated my choices with a feeling of absolute desolation.

Mom was still clearly conflicted, unable to come to terms with where we seemed to be headed. It looked to me as though “right and proper” was going to carry the day against love and desire in Mom’s mind and I finally had to admit to myself that all my hopes and dreams were just that; fantasies that would never be allowed to come to fruition.

I now knew I couldn’t stay in the house another hour. I still loved Mom and I knew my departure would hurt her a lot, but I almost took a perverse satisfaction in that, selfishly wanting her to feel the same pain of loss and rejection, which was weighing on my soul at that time. After all that had happened between us in the past months, I didn’t feel I could wait any longer. I needed to get away, simply to preserve my sanity.

I went upstairs and quietly packed an overnight bag, returning to the kitchen. I had a friend in Staten Island I knew I could crash with for a few days while I figured out my own living arrangements. I sent him an email, asking him to call me when he got up that morning. I knew I wouldn’t have to wait too long, as he had to open up the cafe he worked at in just an hour or two.

I then sat down to write a note to Mom, explaining how I had to get out of the house now, for my own good, and before anything else happened that might drive us further apart. After what happened that past Sunday, I wasn’t sure I could control myself around her any more.

Writing that letter proved to be enormously difficult and took far, far longer than I thought. In my twisted state of mourning and anger, I found the words just wouldn’t come. It was that writer’s block that saved me.

I was still slumped in my chair, back to the kitchen doorway, surrounded by a flock of crumpled, discarded drafts of my goodbye letter. At the point of complete despair, I thought about simply picking up my bag and walking out the door when I heard something behind me.

“Ricky…what are you doing up at this hour? What’s the matter?”

Hearing her voice, I started and cringed inwardly. Having finally, painfully worked up the nerve to move on, I wasn’t prepared for another cycle of indecision, postponements or excuses. If I was going to make a break, I didn’t want my last memory to be seeing my beautiful mother at the banks of my personal Rubicon. If I was going to get her out of my head, I couldn’t afford that final recollection.

As Mom took in the tableau of my discarded letters and the bag by the door, she gasped audibly, gripping the doorframe for support.

“Oh God, Ricky! No! Please don’t do this! Please, God, don’t leave me like this,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

I slowly stood and faced her, somehow finding the strength to speak the words I had been dreading for so long.

“I have to go, Mom. I can’t stay with you anymore. I love you too much, and in too many ways you can’t return. If I stay, I’ll lose my mind. I have to move on,” I said miserably.

“Baby, please, think it over, give us some time. We’ll figure things out.”

I flushed with anger and for the first time I could remember in years, I actually yelled at Mom, slapping my hand on the kitchen counter.

“There’s nothing to think over!” I exploded. “I know that things will never be the way I want them to be for you and me! There’s no point in torturing ourselves when all that’s left between us is what I can’t have and what you can’t seem to give, Mom!”

As I spewed out my years of pent up frustrations, Mom quailed from me as though she had suffered a physical blow. She actually slipped and fell onto her ass with a tooth-jarring thump, eyes wide in shock and pain, tears flowing freely.

My fury was immediately quenched when I saw her stumble. In spite of my anger, I found myself at her side before I could even think. I took her in my arms, hugging her as tight as I could, sobbing myself.

“I’m sorry, Mom! I’m so sorry! I can’t help the way I feel about you! I promised you I’d never do anything to hurt you and look what happened! I’ll always love you, but I can’t do this any more! I just can’t!”

As my entire world burned to the ground inside, somehow, I found a reserve of cold strength within and hauled her up to her feet. Placing my arms around her, I spoke one last time.

“Mom, as your son, I’m not ever going to stop loving you, but tomorrow, next week and next year, just remember you would have always had that, but could have had this too!”

I bent to her face and crushed her in my embrace, giving her the hardest, most ferocious and passionate kiss I could muster. She stood stiffly against me, not really responding, but not resisting either. Slowly, her lips softened ever so slightly and gradually her hands came up haltingly to rest lightly and tentatively on my waist.

“This is the last time I’m ever going to hold you, Mom,” I whispered hoarsely. “I’m sorry for everything, more than you’ll ever know, but it’s time. Time to go.”

Without another word, I broke our embrace and turned away, walking to the door to fetch my bag. Deliberately not looking back, I spoke quietly as I made my way to the back door, my own cheeks wet with tears, “I love you, Jenny Marie, mother.”

As I arrived at the doorway, I reached up to the light switch on the wall. The snap of the toggle seemed as loud as a gunshot, one that pierced my heart with a wound I felt sure would never heal. I left Mom standing alone in the dark, quietly weeping, as I silently closed the door behind me and began walking towards the street.

I got about halfway to the sidewalk and my legs betrayed me. My next step faltered, the one after that completely failed to materialize and then I found myself rooted in place, staring blankly at the gray, featureless, overcast sky above my head, beached in the middle of the driveway.

Having come this far, so close to cutting things off, my rational self railed and cursed at my emotions, which kept me in place like a perverse anchor. Try as I might, I couldn’t bring myself to take that next step towards the street. I heard a small voice in the back of my mind, which sounded curiously like Mom’s. It was saying, “The heart wants what it wants, Ricky. You may as well try to hold back the tide or stop an earthquake, because these things don’t change.”

In agony, I asked back to myself, “But if you simply cannot have your heart’s desire, if it is impossible, then what?”

My legs weakened and I gradually collapsed down onto my haunches, ending up sitting Indian style on the ground, staring blankly in front of me. I was an empty shell, all of my conflicting desires, objective thoughts, longings and dreams cancelling each other into a paralytic gray numbness. I had no will, no plan, no objective, no hope, no future and I didn’t care anymore.

I have no idea how long I sat hunched on the cool, dew-dampened cement, but after a long while, I could sense the first light of morning in the eastern sky. I found I could barely move, both of my legs having fallen asleep where I had run aground.

Then it was my turn to be pulled to my feet. Mom stood behind me, hooked her arms underneath mine and heaved me up. She put her arm around my waist and led me back into the kitchen on unsteady, numbed legs. Not a word was spoken between us.

I found myself propelled into the breakfast nook and sat heavily in one of the chairs. Tingling painfully, my legs still refused to work properly and I had to move them with my hands into some semblance of a comfortable position. Mom went to the refrigerator and poured two glasses of orange juice. She set one in front of me and sat down on the opposite side of the table, quietly regarding me over the rim of her own glass, taking slow, measured sips of her drink. The silence between us was a living, palpable entity; coiled like a serpent, ready to strike in some unexpected direction at any moment. We sat for some minutes, staring at each other as the suspense between us built, a simmering steam boiler with no relief valve.

We would occasionally make brief eye contact, each of us looking for a response from the other, then quickly glancing away, unable or unwilling to start a conversation.

When Mom finally spoke, the tension shattered like a plate glass window and I visibly jumped in my seat.

“I simply can’t let you go like this Ricky. I know how much you’re hurting inside, because I feel the same thing,” she began, tentatively.

“If you feel the way I do, then why do you fight it so hard, Mom?” I asked resignedly. “I can see how it’s tearing you up inside. We really, truly love each other. How can that be bad?” I shot back, pain in every word.

“I’m your mother, for God’s sake!” she cried out in frustration. “I’m not supposed to, not allowed, CAN’T have these feelings about my own son, goddammit!”

“Yet, you do. I know it, you know it and there’s no sense in pretending otherwise, because that’s all bullshit,” I countered.

“You’re still my own flesh and blood!” she said, voice cracking in despair.

“So what?” I shot back. “All I know is that you’re the most beautiful, intelligent and loving woman I’ve ever known. There’s no one in the entire world who could possibly mean as much to me as you do.”

“Get this through your head, lady,” I continued in exasperation, “I can’t change how I feel. It doesn’t matter if I turn around and leave, never seeing you again.

“I – will – always – love – you,” I said, spitting out each word like a heavy stone. ” I can’t help myself. And I don’t care what anyone thinks. Nobody, nobody in the world has any right to tell two adults who love each other how to live their lives.”

“All I can say is, I love you and want to be with you in all possible ways. I want to be your friend, your son, your man, your everything, Mom. Without those things, my life has no meaning. It’s my fate, what I was created to do,” I said with absolute certainty.

As a closing argument, I added, “You can’t fool me, Mom. I know you feel the same things. And don’t try and tell me that the idea of making love with your son doesn’t get you all wet.”

“Ricky! My God, how can you talk like that?” she spluttered shakily, a mortified flush rising rapidly on her cheeks.

“Because it’s the truth, Mom! We’ve been dancing around the edges of this for so long, it’s time to be totally honest. You can’t possibly expect that we can go back to where things were, or just leave them as they are right now. You can’t carve up our relationship up, break it down, control it or parse it like some legal document.”

I got up and sat next to her, taking her hand in mine. I kissed her sweetly on her cheek and cupped her chin, turning her head to look her in the eyes.

“You know I worship the ground you walk on, Mom,” I said softly, gently. “You also know I’d cut my throat before I’d truly do anything to hurt you.”

Pausing, I gulped a huge breath of air, heart pounding painfully. “I need to know, Mom. Now. Not ‘in a little while,’ not next week or tomorrow, or in an hour. Will you be my lover, mother?”

She brought her hand to my cheek and gently ran her finger over the bruise from last week and sighed heavily.

“Ricky, what happened with Marcia, nearly being discovered, it terrified me. I thought I knew what I needed to do when I got off the plane last night. It was my last chance to try and tame this…this thing between us that was threatening to drive me insane with desire and guilt. I wanted you so very much, but I was so afraid, even as things were changing between us. The feelings were so intense, I felt that if I fully gave in, simply let things happen, it would all spin wildly out of control and it would just burn us up, completely consume and destroy us. It was so strong, so powerful, and so scary that I couldn’t handle the emotions. I was afraid that if I gave in, surrendered to my desires, that I would lose myself forever, drowning in love and lust,” she exhaled mournfully, her voice trailing to a whisper.

“Nothing would then matter except my need to fuck you,” she confessed, voice hoarse with shame. “I thought that once I let you have me, I would lose control of everything in my life, and you already know how much I need to be in control of things,” she confessed with a sad sigh. “That’s why I tried to make it all go so slowly, why I only let you do…those things… with me on my terms. It was selfish and unfair of me to string you along like that.”

“And then, after Marcia came by…you can’t imagine what that felt like. I was completely torn in two. I thought I should go mad with the conflict I was feeling. I thought we still had to do what was right and proper, but I think…I think… I think deep down, my heart was beginning to sing. I was not honest with myself up to that point. I just didn’t want to acknowledge my deepest, darkest longings – that I desired you, Ricky. I needed you, of all the men in the world, I wanted you. I was in love with my own boy and wanted to make love to him, never stopping, never wanting anyone or anything else.”

As I heard these words, my heart soared and my throat tightened. I felt as though I had died and was only just now resurrected. At that moment, my love for Mom burned as strongly and deeply as anything I had experienced in my entire life. My emotions were so overwhelming I could hardly speak.

“I’ll always love you, Mom. There’s never been anyone else for me. I couldn’t possibly live without you,” I whispered.

I watched what seemed to be a tremendous flight of emotions across my mother’s face – relief, pleasure, happiness and finally a kind of exaltation. She had never looked so desirable to me. I began to feel that familiar stirring and tightening in my loins and my breath caught in my throat.

“I owe you an apology, my love. I should have had the courage of my convictions,” she said, her voice strengthening and a small smile appearing.

“I should have listened to my heart and recognized the truth in yours, how much, how deeply my son loves me,” she declared, her eyes glistening.

She leaned over to me and took my face in her hands, giving me a long, tender kiss. Moaning inarticulately, I leaned into her, arms coming around her shoulders as I tried to devour her mouth with mine. Groaning, she pressed herself into me, tongue insistently seeking mine as we desperately pressed against each other, as if to try and merge our bodies and souls together through our kiss.

We continued kissing for many minutes, reclaiming each other, touching, reassuring, wiping away mutual tears. Comfort and simple, overwhelming closeness slowly changed into pleasure as our tongues danced, clashed and twined. Pleasure gradually melted into passion and suddenly, I found my hands on Mom’s breasts, lightly rubbing her nipples through the fabric of her nightgown. She arched her back then, thrusting then to meet my tweaking fingertips.

Mom dropped her hand to my thigh, lightly rubbing and questing, slowly trailing her fingers over my surging cock, lightly tugging and grasping. I groaned again as she squeezed me gently.

Breaking our kiss, she sat back and regarded me tenderly, her eyes dancing.

“It looks like you’re ready to properly welcome your mother home now.”

Mom leaned back towards me, her lips slightly parted, smiling gently. In a husky voice, she said, “My boy gives me such sweet kisses. May I have another, please?”

She brought her hand behind my neck and tenderly drew me to her. The touch was gentle, sensuous and unbearable. Her lips seemed to lightly dance on mine, her tongue lightly probing, retreating and teasing as it sought mine. It was so exquisite that I couldn’t stand it. It was all I could do to respond in kind, being as gentle as I could be.

Again, I felt her hand on my thigh, tantalizingly close to my throbbing member, lightly scratching the inside of my thigh with her nails. I felt her hand scrabble over my fly, questing for the zipper and button at the front of my pants. Releasing me from denim captivity, her hand snaked under the waistband of my boxers, seeking my growing steel. I was as hard as I’d ever been in my life.

As she truly touched me for the first time, skin on skin, her fingers delicately explored my length, pulling me towards her. Abruptly, her lips then crushed down on mine, her tongue thrusting to meet mine as she quickly and fully grasped my cock. Her touch was like an electric shock. I immediately began squirting all over her loving fingers, feeling huge contractions and uncontrollable twitching. I must have shot at least a half dozen huge ropes of hot, sticky cum into her warm, waiting palm, painting her fingers with a thick film of my sticky, white goo. The results of my 5 days of abstinence produced perhaps the biggest cum of my life, completely soaking my drawers and covering her hand.

“Ah! Ahhh! Mom, oh God!!” I moaned.

Pulling her hand out from my underwear, Mom regarded her slickened fingers with a smile. “I think my son is glad to see me,” she said with a wry chuckle.

“God, Mom, I’m so sorry!” I groaned, embarrassed at my loss of control.

“Don’t be silly, darling,” she scolded affectionately. “You never need to apologize for something like that – it’s a huge compliment, you silly boy. Besides, I’m sure you’ll be raring to go again very soon.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, as she kissed my lightly, but thoroughly.

She then did something so mind-blowing, I began to harden again immediately. She firmly jerked my jeans down over my hips and lowered her face to my crotch and began sucking my spend through the thin materials of my boxers, taking exquisite care to directly avoid putting her mouth on my cock. She slowly and thoroughly sucked all the cum out of my pants, noisily slurping my sperm and making small, mewling sounds of satisfaction deep in her throat.

When she finished, she looked up from my lap, smiling contentedly. “Wow. That was amazing, sweetheart. I’ve never seen so much sperm in my life.”

“Only for you, Mom, only for you,” I gasped, still panting from my release.

“You’re my sweet talking boy, aren’t you?”

I sighed with pleasure, reaching down to touch her cheek. “Mom, I just love you so much. You turn me on so much, sometimes I think you can make me come just by looking at me sideways.”

“Mmmm. All that lovely man juice, just for moi?” she teased

“Should I say you bring out the best in me?”

Mom gave a quick snort of laughter, pulling the waistband of my shorts down below my balls, exposing my gooey, semi-hard state. Wiping the last remains of semen from my cock with her hand, she examined her fingers briefly, with almost clinical detachment and then smiled widely, licking them clean with lip-smacking relish. She then bent down and gave my glans a quick, popping suck and then kissed my tip, pulling my underwear back into place.

“Let’s go upstairs and get comfortable, Ricky,” she said decisively. “It’s time to be what we were meant to be to each other.”

She got up from the table, stretching slowly and sinuously. Shrugging her robe off, she revealed a floor length, semi-opaque, pale yellow nightdress. It had a shallow, broadly scooped V-neck which slightly exposed the tops of her breasts, short puffy sleeves and a small ribbon which tied the front of the gown together. I could see the slight outline of her hard nipples under the fabric as her unrestrained breasts wobbled slightly with her movement. The remainder of the gown was just diaphanous enough to hint at the forest of curly, ginger hair at the juncture of her thighs.

Taking my hand, she drew me out of my chair, giggling as I nearly toppled, my jeans still caught around my knees. She helped me step out of them, steadying my shoulders as I pulled each leg free.

Once I was liberated, she quickly reached to the waistband of my underwear and pulled them down to the floor. Smiling gently, she grasped my resurgent cock in her hand and led me forward and upstairs to my destiny.


Clambering on to her bed, she gave me an absolutely smoldering look. Reaching her arms out, she said tenderly “Come up here next to me, you bad boy.”

I hesitantly crawled up next to her. I could hardly believe my good fortune. She gently took my hand, placing it on her left breast as she pulled my head to its companion. I slowly ran my fingers around the outside of the outline of her nipple, gently flicking it with my fingertip as I explored the springy contours around it. I began to lightly lick her other nipple through the material of the gown. She arched her back to meet my mouth when I locked my lips on her nipple. Moaning, she said “Oh, so nice, Ricky. Please do the other one! That’s my baby. Just like when you were little. You loved chewing on me so much.”

As I switched my attention to her other breast, I let my right hand stray over her abdomen, lightly touching and caressing wherever I traveled. Tentatively, I gradually moved below her waist, with an even lighter touch. As I moved lower, I could feel the subtle change in texture as I moved over her mons, caused by her luxuriant, slightly wiry pubic hair. Her moaning increased.

“Yessssss, ooohhhh, pleeeaaassssse….”

Gingerly skirting where I thought her clit was, I moved to the sides of her sex, lightly touching and stroking her nether lips. The material over her pussy was absolutely soaked and her intoxicating musk permeated the whole room.

“More there, yes, love, more” she breathed.

I continued to lightly flick her nipple through the material of the gown, now wet and nearly transparent with my saliva. I gradually let the fingers of my right hand find their way to the opening of her vagina, always lightly dancing and probing. She arched her pelvis up to meet my hand. I gradually pushed on the gown, slowly indenting the material over her delta of Venus until I was able to push into her opening an inch or two, gradually increasing the strength of my penetrations and their frequency.

By now, Mom was vigorously thrusting to meet my hand, my palm making a wet, slapping sound as it came in contact with her pussy and the maximal depth of my caresses. She was moaning almost continuously now, barely coherent. Slowly, with great care, I drew up the front of her gown above her waist, gradually sliding my hand from her knee to the junction of her magnificent thighs, caressing slowly as I went.

I cupped her mound, gently pressing and rubbing, slowly drawing my middle finger up her slit, from perineum to her little nub. She shuddered and thrust herself up against my hand. I slowly inserted a finger into her opening, gradually pushing it in as far as I could, then adding a second finger. So tight, so wet, so unbelievably hot, she was.

“Ooohhhh my god Ricky, it feels soooo goood. Do me some more.”

Those words absolutely set me off. I redoubled the stimulation of her breast and greatly increased the thrusting of my fingers, pushing as hard as I could. Mom was panting like a long distance runner near the finish line now, barely able to speak. She was moving her pelvis as quickly as she could against my hand, trying to gain maximal stimulation from my digits. She was close now, and I wanted to make sure that she had the best orgasm of her life on my fingers. I removed my other hand from her breast and began to rub over her mound. Her lips were red and swollen, saturated with beads of her dew. Her clit stood at proud attention, peeking from beneath its hood. I took it in my fingers and began to gently squeeze and rub it.

Mom suddenly arched her back, thighs clamping viciously around my hand, her pelvis thrusting upward. A keening moan tore from her throat.

“Oh god! Oh god! My god, Ricky, mygod mygod omigod omigod omigod I’m cumming, I’m cumming, baby, cumming! She continued for nearly a whole minute. I could barely keep my hands on her sex, she was writhing so much. Finally, she collapsed utterly and completely, breathing rapidly with her eyes tightly closed, eyelids fluttering.

God, that felt so good! I gave my mother an amazing climax, just with my hands. I felt 10 feet tall and invincible. There could be no better feeling on the earth than pleasing my Mom that way! I moved up next to her on the bed, cradling her head and neck on my chest. I was filled with tenderness as I stroked her hair and cheeks. “I love you so much, Mom. I love to make you feel good.”

She gradually returned to the present, snuggling against me, hands tracing lightly on my chest, teasing my nipples. The sensation was driving me to delirium.

“My god, Ricky. What did you do to me? I can’t remember the last time I came like that. I’m shaking like a leaf!”

“Just being the dutiful son,” I joked lightly.

“I’m appalled at how hard I made you work while I was gone,” she chastised herself. “I’m surprised that you have the strength to lift one finger, let alone do what you just did to me.”

I lowered my voice and spoke very softly and seriously. “Mom, everything I did while you were gone, from the pool, to the fence, to the driveway and now to this bed I did because I love you. The reason it’s so good with us is because it’s real love. We only care about pleasing each other. You’re my angel and I’ll never put myself ahead of you again.”

She lifted her head from my chest and looked into my eyes intently. My heart soared as I regarded her face. For nearly a full minute she said nothing, just holding my gaze in hers. Finally she spoke. “I love you too, son. I should have realized how much the past few weeks before my trip had affected you. You don’t have to apologize again, ever, for last Sunday. That’s in the past, dear heart. You and I are only going to look forward now.”

She leaned forward and kissed me softly, thoroughly and intensely. I was happy to give back as good as I got. As we came up for air, she took my hands in hers, enveloping me in a tender gaze. “Things are really, truly different now, aren’t they?” she asked.

I nodded my head, not able to speak.

“All of the things which happened before last Sunday altered our relationship to something new, but now it’s truly changed for good. We’re really lovers now, Ricky.” Even though we haven’t, you know, uhhh, actually had sex, we’re lovers nonetheless.” She blushed sweetly as she said this.

Speaking more quietly, she stroked my cheek apologetically and added softly, “I should have remembered that last Sunday. Even though what you did to me was wrong and selfish, I tried to discipline you like a parent of a child, when I should have worked it out with you, a misunderstanding between two adults, woman to young man, lover to lover.”

I hugged her, burying my face in her neck. “It’s okay, Mom. Like you said, it’s done and over now, so we should concentrate on the future. I think things are going to be wonderful for us, but it’s going to be complicated from time to time. What makes us special could also get in our way sometimes. I think that happened on Sunday. When I think how close I came to losing you…” my voice broke.

“But you didn’t, son. It was a near thing because we both made mistakes, but I don’t think that will happen again. We’ll fight, like all couples inevitably do, but I think we learned some important lessons already.”

Smiling and running her fingers through my hair, Mom said, “First and foremost, we’ll always be honest, always talk through our misunderstandings. Second, we have to be more, uhm, cautious in the future.” Kissing me affectionately, she added, “What we have now is far, far too precious to endanger in any way. It cost us both a lot to get here, darling. Now that I have you, I don’t want to lose you to carelessness.”

“I’d rather die than upset you or hurt you again, Mom,” I said, choking up a little. “You’re right – it is precious. I’ll do whatever I must to protect it.”

“What I also know is that I’m very, very lucky,” I added. “I won’t ever forget that. You’ve already made me so happy, Mom, and I love you so much. If I get brained by a meteor tomorrow, I’ll go with a smile on my face.”

Mom giggled at my imagery, but then became more somber. “Ricky, you know you’re my man now, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Mom, I do” I acknowledged, sensing the seriousness which was beneath her statement. “And you’re my woman, truly.”

“I feel a little guilty saying this right now, but I want to be totally honest and open from now on.” Taking a deep breath, Mom continued, “I don’t think we should make love just yet. I know it’s not very romantic and maybe I’m trying to be too organized and controlling again, but there are real practical issues here, and I very, very much want everything to be right for our first time together. There are some things I need to attend to as a woman – I want to see my doctor this week and get some things checked, if that’s okay with you.”

I took her hand and kissed it, looking into her eyes. “I suppose a couple more days won’t kill me, after waiting for eight years. Knowing you want it too will hold me until then, I suppose. Are you going to talk about, uhm, the Pill? You know, it’s fine if you don’t want to do that, Mom. I’ll use a condom, I’m okay with that.”

“That’s very sweet of you, darling – thank you for understanding, and the offer, too. I promise you’ll not be disappointed by the wait. And yes, I will be talking about birth control, among other things.”

Touching her cheek, I replied, “Mom, it’s not something you owe me. It’s not a reward like getting a cookie for being a good boy. I want it to be right and special as much as you.”

“You’re my sweet understanding son. I really appreciate that.”

Abruptly, she smiled, as though some internal joke amused her. “Mommy’s boy is too old to be rewarded with cookies, anyway. From now on, he gets nookie from Mom’s cookie jar instead,” she cackled.

I laughed with delight and hugged her tight. “It’s settled then,” I said decisively. “We just need to agree on the wage scale.”

“Beg pardon?” she asked, not following my train of thought.

“Well, let’s see. I think for cleaning my room, at least a hand job. For mowing the lawn and taking care of the pool, probably oral. If it’s something bigger, like a major project or repair, then nothing less than full on sex will do. I will let you choose what position, though,” I added magnanimously.

“You’re an incorrigible brat, you know,” she giggled.

“Yup, and proud of it, too,” I retorted, grinning widely.

Mom settled herself closer to me, nuzzling my cheek, squeezing my hands in hers. “I think we’re going to be very good together, Ricky. You make me laugh like no one else. I really love your sense of humor.”

“You deserve to be happy, Mom. All those years working so hard for us, all the sacrifices, I’ll never, ever forget that. I intend to keep you laughing and cumming as long as I’m breathing.”

“You’re my sweet young man.”

Turning serious, I changed the conversation. “Mom, when I was 14 and hormonally challenged…”

She snorted with laughter. “Hormonally challenged? That’s how you describe it? You certainly get the prize for understatement my dear, sweet boy. I knew almost from the first day when you started wanting me. I didn’t need to catch you stealing my undies, sneaking peeks up my skirt or seeing your cum in my used panties to know it either- I’m your Mom.”


“What, embarrassed that I know all your secrets, young man?”

“I’m trying to be serious here, lady, give this poor guy a break.”

She tousled my hair and laughed, kissing my lightly on the lips.

“Okay, tiger, what’s on your mind?”

“Hmm, tiger, I kind of like that. Anyway, I was going to say that when I was fourteen I wanted to fuck you, but that’s not the way it is anymore. I want to make love to you Mom, I want to do it so much and make you feel so good, I can’t stand it.”

“I know you do Ricky. I want it as much as you do. Soon, we’ll fulfill that wish. We’ll make love together.”

I enveloped her in a huge hug.

“Ooof! watch it there, big guy. If you squeeze the life out of me, it ain’t gonna happen.”

“I can wait for you Mom. I think we’ll both know it when you’re ready. Anyway, there’s a lot of other things we can do until then,” I said, grinning lecherously.

“Is that so, young lover?” she bantered. “I may just cut you off at the knees until then, just to make the wait that much more exciting!”


“Riiicky!” she returned, imitating my whine.

“Just promise me one thing, lover boy.” She looked at me out of the corner of her eyes, that sly smile I love so much playing on her lips.

“Anything, Mom.”

“After you make love to me for the first time…”


“I want you to fuck my brains out.”

Those seven words rocked my world, ricocheting around in my head like a bullet cast from an alloy of pure lust and burning desire, jacketed in the steel of every fantasy I ever had about my mother. It reduced my higher centers to pure jello in a half second and left nothing functioning but the lowest reptilian centers of my being. I was surprised that I didn’t start to reflexively hump her leg like a dog.

“God Mom, you have no idea what you do to me! Talking like that is going to fry my brain!” I groaned.

“You like it when I talk dirty to you?”

“God, yes!”

She glanced at my crotch. My hardness was rampant again, the tip of my penis poking through the fly of my boxers.

“Hmmm, doesn’t seem like you need any extra stimulation to me…”

“Now you’re just being a cruel tease.”

“Well hot stuff, it certainly looks like you’ve got a problem that needs some attention.”

That sly smile was present again, getting bigger and broader by the second. Looking me straight in the eye, she smiled wickedly and spoke words that I never thought I would hear.

“Do you want Mommy to suck your cock?”

“Oh my god, for real? Yes, yes please!”

“Well then, skin off those shorts and lie back here with your Mom. I need to taste you.”

I practically bounced to my feet. As I shucked the PJ bottoms, Mom also stood. She untied the top of her gown slowly with one hand, simultaneously caressing her breasts with the other, slowly pinching her nipples as she gradually shrugged the gown off her shoulders. When the nightgown was fully off her shoulders, she held it in place by cupping the material under both breasts with her hands, her eyes on my face the whole time. Her nipples were simply magnificent, dark pink Hershey’s kisses set against the background of her rosy areolae. They were still damp from my previous attentions, hard as flint arrowheads.

Never taking her eyes from me, she then let the gown fall around her feet. Her left hand was still cupped around her breast. She was rolling the nipple between her fingers as she trailed her right hand down over her abdomen, drawing my eyes downward. Her pubic hair was slightly trimmed, a gorgeous, full thatch of reddish blonde curls which partially concealed her nether lips. It was matted and moist from her juices.

Her index finger pointed towards her feet, she slowly passed it through her pubes, shuddering slightly as it then passed over her clitoris, dipping then into the center of her sex. She sighed, her lips parting as she ran the finger into her opening. Bringing it to her mouth, she sucked her moisture off it with a definite slurp. “Mmmmmmmm, Ricky. I want you in my mouth now. I’ve wanted it for such a long time. Are you ready?”

I laid myself down next to her, nearly speechless with desire. She hopped onto the bed, facing me, then straddled one of my legs with hers thighs, slowly lowering her head towards my groin.

As I raised my head off the pillows to watch her, she placed her hand on my chest, pushing and lightly rubbing at the same time. “Lie back and relax, lover. Close your eyes and let your mother do all the work. This is my treat for my special young man.”

It began as the lightest of touches, barely rubbing the side of her finger along the undersurface of my cock. The movement was leisurely, but not at all hesitant. As she lowered her face closer, I felt the heat of her breath, as she blew and exhaled, moving her mouth within millimeters of my flesh, traveling up and down my length. She would occasionally draw back slightly and shake her head, her hair lightly slapping into and then drawing over my throbbing helmet like a silken cascade while she rubbed her cheek against my pole.

“It’s so beautiful, Ricky,” she whispered, almost to herself. “It’s the nicest one I’ve ever touched.”

Then I felt it. A warm, teasing moistness which began as a gentle, lingering, kiss along the underside of my shaft, which then morphed into a long sensuous lick, extending along the entire length to the head, which was then engulfed briefly with the lightest of suction and swirl of the tongue.

“Oh Mom, that’s soooo goooood,” I groaned.

“Mmmmmmmpppphhhh, God Ricky, I love your taste! You are soooo sweet. Just one lick and I think I’m already addicted. I need more!”

With that, she continued, licking up and down, showering my shaft with kisses, occasionally pausing to take the head in her mouth, always sucking only lightly and swirling her tongue for the briefest of moments. I have no idea how long she continued this way. I had completely lost track of time, my perceptions contracting to include only the steady rhythm of her movements, her breathing and occasional exclamations of pleasure. I have never felt so pampered in my life. My cock seemed to have become the center of my mother’s universe, her entire being focused on the slow, leisurely pleasure she was giving me with her mouth.

Gradually, imperceptibly, she began to increase the pace of her ministrations. The exquisite sensations became more intense. I flexed my legs in response to the pleasure and Mom responded, thrusting her pelvis back against my thigh and knee, rubbing her wet slit on the skin above my knee. She began to concentrate on my head, sucking it strongly in and out of her mouth, taking more and more of my length into her mouth. I could feel resistance as the head of my cock would reach the back of her throat and she would then draw back and repeat the process. A slapping, squishing noise began to intrude on my consciousness. I opened my eyes to see Mom fingering herself as she sucked, two fingers in her opening, occasionally flicking her thumb across her clit. She seemed totally focused, in her own universe.

There was a slight shift in her angle of attack on my cock and suddenly, my entire length was engulfed, warm wet pulsations surrounding me everywhere. Mom was taking all of me! She would take me down to my root and then slowly, languorously come back up, maintaining a constant, milking suction until she had only the head of my cock in her mouth. She would then suck vigorously, simultaneously swirling her tongue over my helmet. The pace inexorably increased and I could feel an enormous pressure building, a deep tingling and tightness that began in my ass and worked its way inexorably forward through my cock.

“Mom! Oh, Mom, my god, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!”

She pulled back, keeping only my glans in her mouth and began sucking furiously while constantly swirling her tongue over my head, her hand stroking up and down on my shaft beneath her mouth.

I flat out screamed in ecstasy. As the detonations of pleasure raced through my body, I felt like I was being torn apart by a riptide of pleasure, my whole being disassembled and rebuilt as my orgasm reduced me to atoms.

All I could do was call out “Mom! Oh, Mom!” again and again and again.

When I returned to the land of the living, Mom was curled up next to me, head on the pillow next to me, gazing at my face. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling with passion. As she smiled I could see a tiny dot of my cum on her chin, only the smallest portion of my spend that she was unable to swallow.

“Come here.”

I bent to her face, licking myself off her chin, fastening my lips upon hers, tongues dancing again as we shared my taste.

As I held her close, I struggled to find the words.

“That was indescribable.”

“Your cock is an inspiration to me, Ricky. It’s truly gorgeous, just perfect. I simply couldn’t do any less for our first time like this. Your taste was wonderful,” she murmured, looking like the proverbial canary-eating cat.

“I just wish that I could have given you some of what you were lavishing on me.”

“Silly boy!” she said, scolding me with affection. “This was your time, and I wanted it to be my little gift to you. Besides, I came with my fingers while I was sucking you.”

“Anyway,” she said, stretching luxuriously, “I don’t doubt that we’ll pleasure each other the same way at the same time before long. I’m looking forward to it.”

I disentangled myself and placed her on her back, looking steadily into her eyes. “It’s my turn to return the favor, sweet mother.”

“You don’t have to, Ricky. You don’t owe me anything. I’m quite content.”

“Don’t have to?” I exclaimed indignantly. “Excuse me, but you don’t have even the faintest clue how much I want to taste you.”

“Honestly? You’re sure? You’d really do that, darling?”

I pretended exasperation. “Mom, when I used to jerk off thinking about you (which was usually 3 or 4 times a day, by the way), this was almost my favorite fantasy. You have no idea how much I want this. Now it’s your turn to relax. Just settle back now and let your horny son eat your pussy.”

“You’re a very persuasive young man. I may just let you.”

“That’s more like it.”

As we had our gentle argument, I was gradually scooting my way down between Mom’s legs. I began showering light kisses and licks just above her knees, gradually licking longer and longer tracts with my tongue, moving closer to the object of my desire.

I began tracing my lips and tongue along the folds where her thighs met the pelvis, nibbling, licking and sucking. Gradually, I moved to her outer lips, slowly and firmly licking up and down, side to side, staying away from her opening. I was now at my interminably longed-for altar of worship, where I belonged.

I probed with my tongue. I ran my fingers lightly along her outer lips, teasing out slightly sticky tendrils of succulent honey from her center. I gently ran my thumb over her hood, the barest of contact causing her to lightly shudder. Every trick, every nuance of oral pleasure I had learned from previous lovers, I brought to bear as I ate my mother for the first time. Nothing less than a magnificent, epic orgasm would do.

I tasted sweetness, salty tang and heady musk, better than the nectar of the gods, the nectar of my goddess. Mom’s hands found their way to my cheeks, lovingly caressing, slowly rising up to rest gently on my scalp, toying with my hair.

“Oh, Ricky baby, what are you doing to your mom? That is so good, baby,” she moaned.

I gradually added a gentle probing and sucking, stiffening my tongue, working as slowly as possible to her center, then outward again. By now her hands were gently knotted in my hair and she cooing and sighing constantly. I slid my hands under her ass, raising her to meet my mouth, centering and stiffening my tongue, then slowly and firmly driving it into her dripping center.

“Ah! Oh God, yes, more please,” she whimpered.

I let my tongue trail out of her opening, always maintaining contact and let it slip to her perineum, where I licked more. I let my thumb gently slide along the crack of her buttocks, dragging it slowly downward. By now, Mom’s legs were spread as wide as she could get them, her feet straight up in the air. I could see everything. Her ass was alternately clenching and relaxing and I could see her rosebud slightly opening and closing as I licked. I lightly rubbed my thumb around her most secret place, gently pressing and retreating as I continued to lick.,

“My God, you little devil,” she breathed. “Where the hell did you learn that? You’re driving me crazy, touching me there!”

I responded by firmly stabbing my tongue back into her vagina, licking and sucking more insistently now. She began to buck her hips at my face, smearing me with her freely flowing juices from forehead to chin. I slowly withdrew my tongue to the outer reaches of her opening, then traveling upward towards her nub, always maintaining contact with her moist flesh. At the same time, I inserted a finger into her channel, slowly, firmly, as far as I could. I then added a second finger and began to rediscover the place I had emerged from into the world. I continued to lick and suck around her outer lips, staying a teasing distance from her clit as I continued my braille exploration. When I curled my fingers, I felt what seemed like a small interior mound along the front of her passage. As I carefully traced my fingers across this, I felt Mom stiffen.

“Ooooooohhhhh, yessssss! That spot! Again, lover! Again!” she hissed.

I began to apply more pressure, more probing to the area, questing, searching until I found the raised sponginess again.

Mom was now thrusting in earnest against my fingers, grunting and moaning constantly, thrashing her head from side to side as I continued my motions.

“Oh, God! Oh Jesus, Mommy’s close, sweetheart, Mommy’s realllllly close now. Give me more, give me more!”

At this, I moved my mouth directly over her clit and began to vibrate it with the very tip of my tongue.

“Ah! AH! I’m coming! Fuck! I’m coming! Give it to Mommy, baby! Making Mommeeee cummmmmmmmmmmm!”

I went into overdrive. Placing my whole mouth over her clit as I continued thrusting with my fingers, I began sucking and swirling my tongue over her little man in the boat, trying as best I could to imitate what she had done for me earlier.

The results exceeded my fondest hopes. Mom’s entire body was vibrating, completely clenched in a rigid contraction of ecstasy. She was pushing up against my fingers and mouth as fast and hard as she could, rising from one peak to the next with increasing intensity each time. Her moans were completely incoherent. I could feel her spasms with my fingers, wave after wave of contractions flowing through the walls of her pussy, around my slippery digits.

I don’t know exactly how or when she finished climaxing, if it was her cum running its course, or me running out of hand and lip stamina to keep up with her, but her passion and my strength eventually ebbed over 2 or 3 tumultuous minutes. My hand was practically numb, my face completely coated with her essence from forehead to chin. Looking at Mom, she was still fully spread-eagled on the bed, shoulders, breasts and face flushed and moistened with perspiration, breathing like a marathon runner in the 26th mile. Her eyes were closed, lids fluttering, a smile playing on her lips.

As I laid my head on her abdomen, watching her heaving chest slowly settle, she appeared so gorgeous at that instant that I could hardly stand it. Her pleasure was mine. Our connection was sublime. The moment stretched to the end of time and then she opened her eyes.

“Ricky…honey…dearest son…my lover,” she sighed. “That was beyond paradise. I didn’t think it would be possible to cum any harder than I did earlier, but you did it. That was the best of my life.”

I sighed with contentment. “I just had one of my fondest dreams come true, Mom,” I said, my voice catching slightly with emotion. “I can’t think of many things that are better than having the love of your life come all over your face.”

“I did a job of it, didn’t I? You should look at yourself in a mirror – it’s quite a sight, I can tell you. Come here and let me clean you up.”

I moved from the V of her legs to her side, my head resting next to hers on the pillows. She then took my head in her hands and began to gently lick my cheek, traveling across to my nose, down over my lips to my chin and then to my forehead, alternating kitten-like licks and delicate kisses. It was at once utterly sensuous and amazingly tender. I closed my eyes and relaxed so totally that I think I drifted off for a few moments. When I returned to awareness, Mom was curled up in the crook of my arm, head on my chest, breathing deeply and evenly. I drifted back into dreams myself, my last waking thoughts of bemused amazement not even enough to keep me from sleep.


I awoke to disorientation, not recognizing my surroundings for several moments. Judging by the light and shadows, it was probably late morning. I couldn’t have slept more than three hours, but I felt refreshed, renewed and preternaturally alert. Gradually, I processed my environment and it then hit me. In Mom’s bedroom – in her bed! Not a dream. Solid, amazing, absolutely gob-smacking reality! In an instant, I was wide-awake, as all of the evening’s memories came thundering back into my head.

Mom was finally at peace with the idea that we were now a couple. We had been truly intimate. We hadn’t actually had sex, but we had, in our own way, made love. As wonderful as those thoughts were, though, the thing that meant the most to me was where I was sitting at that moment.

I had slept in Mom’s bed with her! It was from now on, for the glorious future unfolding in front of us, OUR bed. I grinned so widely, it was a miracle I didn’t split my whole face wide open. I wanted to beat my chest like Johnny Weissmuller. I wanted to climb on the roof and howl at the moon. I wanted to leap whole buildings at a single bound. I wanted to wake my woman with a warm, lovers kiss, but Mom was gone, her side of the mattress already cool.

I felt a momentary pang of regret that I didn’t wake up to see her next to me, but I got over it when I heard the sounds of food preparation from the kitchen. For some silly reason, I was inordinately pleased that Mom was making breakfast for us. It made me feel warm inside.

The enticing aroma of frying bacon and fresh coffee provided the added impetus I needed to rise from her bed (our bed now!) and I padded back to my bedroom to get come clean clothes. I then hit the shower, pausing briefly to drain the snake. That act proved to be more difficult than usual, as the good soldier was standing at an angle of attention that could not be fully explained just by the need to pee. After my shower, I slid on my gym shorts and a tank top, heading downstairs to a truly new day.

As I contemplated my late breakfast plans, I detoured to the foyer, double-checking to make sure the door from the garage was locked. Entering the kitchen, I saw Mom’s back was to me, working at the sink. She was clad only in a short red silk, kimono style robe, which did not quite extend down far enough to cover her delightful, round cheeks. As she worked at the sink, shifting slightly, I could see the lips of her sex, nestled between the perfect, arcing creases of her buttocks.

Coming up behind her, I encircled her waist for a hug and nuzzled her neck.

“Morning, mother-love. I hope you haven’t been up too long on my account.”

“I wanted to fix my son some breakfast this morning,” she smiled, leaning back into my embrace. “Bacon, eggs and toast are on the table. Let me just finish washing this pan and we’ll sit down.”

I caressed the underside of her left breast through the kimono as I reached across the sink, slowly pulling the window shade opposite us down with my other hand.

“Somehow, I don’t think Marcia will be bothering us this morning, but I’d like a little privacy. Our last interlude in here left something to be desired.”

Mom snorted a laugh, which turned into a low moan as I gently cupped her tits from behind. The frying pan dropped from her hands into the sink with a small, soapy splash as she wetly clasped my hands over her breasts. The residual soap and water quickly soaked through the thin, silky material of her kimono, her nipples standing out like small stones through the slick material. I began to gently pinch her, her rosy tips popping them through my slippery fingertips as Mom’s hands further tightened over my own.

“Ooohhhh, baby, getting an early start to our day, are we?” she sighed. “You don’t want the bacon and eggs Mommy cooked for you, do you?”

“I have something else in mind,” I said lecherously. “I want sticky buns.”

“Mmmmmm, really? I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth.”

“Actually, not so sweet,” I replied, dragging my hands down her sides to her ass. I gently thrust my hardness against her wonderful back crevice, pushing her slowly but firmly against the sink. Mom gasped lightly and then thrust back against me. “Just what are you up to back there, Ricky?”

Dropping to my knees, I ran my hands up the back of her thighs and slid the fabric of the kimono up over her hips, revealing her gorgeous, fleshy half moons. I kneaded her cheeks gently, squeezing, lifting and pulling. There it was, her most intimate place. Trailing my tongue down the divine canyon between her buttocks, I fully spread her cheeks and began to lick her little hole.

“Oh my Sweet Jesus!” she groaned, rigid with shock. “Dear God, what are you doing Ricky? Ohhh, SHIT! BABY! No one’s ever done…ooohhhhhhh, my goooodddd…that…before.”

With that, I stiffened my tongue and began to probe, in and out, around and around her musky pucker.

“Nmmmmmm, you naughty, naughty boy,” she moaned. “You just have to have Mommy’s nasty place, don’t you? My God, Ricky, you are soooo kinky!”

As I explored my newfound object of passion with my tongue, I slipped a finger into Mom’s rapidly moistening slit, slowly rubbing back and forth, coating it with her dewy secretions.

“Ohhhhh, fuck! What you’re doing to me, lover! Gooodddd, don’t stop licking!!”

She had now spread her legs, hands braced on the counter top, fully thrusting her ass back on to my eager tongue. Her taste was absolutely indescribable, at once earthy, tangy, bitter and delightfully complex.

Withdrawing my finger from her pussy, I stopped my licking and grabbed her hip, roughly turning her front to me. She murmured briefly in protest. As she faced me, knees slightly bent and thighs opened, I slowly and deliberately looked up into her eyes.

Her face was a mask of absolute, unbridled lust, eyes wide open, pupils dilated, mouth half open with her ragged breaths. Still maintaining eye contact, I parted her thighs, slipped my slick digits between her legs and slowly inserted my index finger into her sweet back passage. Her eyes widened in shock and she began to hump backwards against my hand, causing my finger to slide in up to the knuckle.

“Fuck, oh fuck, what are you dooooiing, Ricky? You’re fucking my asshole with your finger! I can’t stand it! If feels soooo gooood. Push harder, love! Mmmmppphhhh! Push harder!! Annnhhhhh! God, yesssss, HARDER!

Breaking eye contact, I began sucking her clit and inserted a finger from my other hand into her slick, warm sheath.

She let out an absolutely animalistic, guttural moan and began sawing her pelvis back and forth, alternating between thrusting herself onto my face and slamming her ass against my fingers. Her pace rapidly reached a crescendo and she began to wail.

“Oh! Ohhhhhhhhh!!! My god mygodomigodomigod, I’m coming! I’m coming!” she cried, her voice trailing off into an inarticulate groan.

Her ass began contracting in great spasms, practically crushing my finger. She threw her head back, strained forward onto her toes and mashed her sex against my face. I was then surprised by a sudden gush of nectar from her cunt, which splashed slightly onto my chin, but mostly ran down over my wrist and dripped onto the kitchen floor. I was so into the moment that I hardly noticed when I spurted myself, it was that erotic.

Chest heaving, knees slowly buckling, Mom slid down the counter, panting, limply collapsing into my lap. She locked her arms around my neck, grazing her lips over mine and nuzzling my cheek.

“My God Ricky! Where did that come from?” she panted. “I don’t know if I can call you my dear sweet boy anymore – that was sexy and nasty…and I loved every damn second of it!” she exhaled, a sigh of slightly guilty, salacious satisfaction escaping her lips. Her expression was adorable, a combination of surprise, affection and unrepentant lust which was absolutely irresistible. I kissed her fiercely.

I stroked her hair and traced the outline of her ear with my fingertip. “You know, I’m not sure why I did that, but it seemed like the thing to do. I guess I liked the idea because it made me feel especially close to you, somehow. Anyway, you were awesome, Mom, like a force of nature.”

“There wasn’t much natural about that,” she snorted. “It was just flat out wicked and dirty. I think that’s what set me off so hard. I don’t think I’ve ever done that…that thing before.”

“It was incredibly sexy, Mom, the way you just let yourself go, how you totally got into it. It was so hot when you squirted that I came without touching myself, so that was a first for me too.”

“I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did,” I added softly.

“Baby, it was amazing. No man has EVER touched me like that before. You surprised me a little, that’s all. But yes, sweetie, I’m amazed to say that I really, really liked it. You can love on my bottom any time you want.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, sexy girl. I could easily become addicted to your beautiful ass.”

Mom shivered slightly and snuggled up against me, lost in thought for a moment. “I think you are a sneaky, devious young man, doing that to me. I loved that combination of kink and intimacy, you devil. I didn’t know I had it in me to like that kind of thing.”

She shook her head in slow wonderment and gave me a sweet kiss.

“Well, anyway, you got your breakfast wish, lover. My buns are definitely sticky now, which I’m sure you planned all along. I’m afraid eggs and bacon are going to seem very pedestrian now.”

“Actually, I’m famished. I didn’t have much of an appetite while you were gone.”

“Poor boy, to think you might have wasted away before I came home.”

“Time for our breakfast,” I said, pulling her to her feet.

Slipping one arm behind her knees, I lifted and then carried her, giggling, to the breakfast nook and sat her in my lap. We then took turns feeding each other from the platters on the table, leisurely enjoying the respite, stealing sweet, slow kisses from each other between bites. When we finished, Mom stayed in my lap, arms linked around my neck as she rested her head on my shoulder. Inhaling her scent, my nose buried in her hair, I felt reborn into an amazing new world.

I wrapped her tightly in my arms and kissed her neck. She sighed and held me close. No words were necessary.


The rest of our day continued in a slow, unhurried and sensuous haze of exploratory caresses, kisses, licking and fingerings, as we gradually claimed each other, the hours flowing by like the slow, sweet ooze of poured honey. We relaxed watching a movie in the den, which morphed into our first 69 on the couch. As she straddled my face, sucking me slowly and lovingly while I lapped up her juices, I almost lost my mind with pleasure.

Later that afternoon in the shower, she returned the morning’s favor, slipping her finger up my ass during a blowjob, giving me my first experience with a prostate massage. Between her incredible deep throat and the unexpected invasion of my ass, I came so hard, I couldn’t stand up when she was finished.

Before dinner, I had my way again in the kitchen, eating her pussy and ass on the kitchen table until she begged for mercy. I made her come at least three or four times before she begged me to stop.

By the time evening arrived, we were sated and exhausted in our discoveries of each other. I ordered in a pizza and afterwards we watched movies. We fell asleep snuggled together on the sofa, totally spent from our previous night’s sleep deprivation and nonstop day of passion, waking in each other’s arms almost twelve hours later.

I slowly returned from wet and warm dreams to something warm and wet in my ear. Mom was whispering to me, tonguing my ear as she stroked my cock.

“Up and at ‘em, baby. Mommy needs her protein shake for breakfast.”

“Mmmmmmm, what a great way to wake up, Mom.”

“Lay back, sweetie. Momma’s going to take care of you now.”

With that, she dipped her head to my groin and took me in to the hilt in one swallow. The sensation was so intense, I bucked involuntarily, causing Mom to gag slightly for a moment. Coughing slightly, she pulled off momentarily, eyes watering.

“Easy there, cowboy, no rush, okay?” she gasped.

“Sorry, Mom,” I apologized sheepishly. “You’re just too good a cocksucker – you drive me crazy when you do the deep throat thing.”

Stroking her cheek, I murmured, “I’ll try to keep it cool.”

“Not too cool, darling,” she cooed, bending back to work. “Momma’s hungry this morning.”

As she returned to her pleasant task, she licked me from base to crown, fisting my length while sucking lustily on my glans, popping it in and out of her mouth with drooling smacks. Gradually, she worked her way back down the shaft, again devouring me completely. She began to make a humming noise deep in her throat, as she cupped my balls, finger running teasingly along my ‘taint. The sensations were incredible, the slight vibration from her humming and the encompassing, enveloping wetness making my toes literally curl with arousal.

By this point, I was barely able to keep from moving, eyes rolling back in my head, practically ripping holes in the cushions of the sofa with my clawed fingernails. When her finger found its way to my ass, I couldn’t help myself. As my hips started to thrust involuntarily, Mom pulled back so only the head of my penis was in her mouth and she began fisting my shaft furiously with her other hand as her fingers found my prostate.

Thrusting uncontrollably and spouting gibberish, I sprayed myself into Mom’s loving mouth. My hips were shaking so much that I popped out for a moment, painting her cheeks and chin with gooey whiteness as she swallowed what did find its way onto her tongue.

As I lay back, a completely limp rag of a son, Mom smiled warmly, wiping her chin and cheeks with her index finger, sucking it clean with lip-smacking relish, claiming the last residue of my cum.

Definitely appearing like the cat that ate the canary, she looked me in the eye and whispered seductively, “COCK-a-doodle-do!”

Shaking off a last post-orgasmic tremor, I stretched, grinned and pulled her close for a kiss.

“Good morning to you too, Mom,” I whispered back, nuzzling the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Bending once again to my crotch, she said, “There’s still a little more cleanup here.” Then she drained me completely dry, sucking, licking and cooing until I was completely clean and limp.

As she licked the last of my cum from her lips, she looked at me and grinned wickedly. “My boy likes sticky buns for breakfast, but his mommy likes a nice hot sausage!”

“You crack me up, lady. Actually, I like tacos for breakfast too.”

“Taco, indeed! You are an uncultured beast. You don’t deserve your mother.”

“Probably not, but I’ve got her nonetheless and I have no plans to let her go. Ever,” I concluded emphatically.

I wormed my way down to her thighs, exhaling softly on her skin as I went.

“Here now, what are you doing with that tongue of yours? Oh god, you just make me so wet!”

“I just want my breakfast, ma’am.”

“You couldn’t be satisfied with just a cup of coffee, could you?”

“Nope. Bring your hips up here, Mom. Sit on your horny son’s face.”

“Mmmmmmmm. Soooo goood. Jesus, how do you get that tongue of yours up so far?”

“Mmmmppphhhh. NNNggghhhh. Yummmmmm. Lots of practice yesterday.”

“Less talking, more eating, dear boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ooohhhhhh, baby! You feel so good and I feel soooo nasty when you play with my ass like that. Yeah, put your finger allllll the way in.”

“Ahhhhhh, yessssss, lick me, baby. Push harder with your finger! Here it comes. Here it comes! OOhhhhhhhhhh myyyyyy gaaaaaawddddd!”

As the glow faded, Mom gradually snuggled back down into the crook of my arm, her hands idly straying over my chest.

“Much as I’d like to stay right here all day, my darling, we’ve got things to do.”

“I know Mom, just a few more minutes and we’ll get a shower and have some breakfast. I’ll cook us something nice this morning.”

“Sounds good, what are you going to make?”

“Hmmmm. Nothing fancy, maybe some huevos rancheros.”

“Sounds delicious. Now wipe that leer off your face and get up to the shower. I’ll scrub your back and then you can feed your poor, starving and exploited mother,” she said with a mock pout and faux-petulant tone.

Mom took charge of me when I joined her in the shower stall, cleaning me thoroughly from head to toe, more gently and lovingly than sensuously, pausing many times for sweet, tender kisses. She made me feel so loved on and coddled, I could hardly stand it.

When she was finished, she shooed me out of the stall, lightly slapping my ass, saying, “You can spoil me next time, lover. Right now I’m hungry, so get your cute, squeaky-clean butt into the kitchen and get cracking.”

Later, Mom joined me in the kitchen, gliding up to me and hugging me from behind as I put the eggs and salsa on the tortillas. She laid her head against my back and rubbed my chest through my T-shirt, squeezing me tightly.

“Do you know how happy you’ve made me, Ricky?”

I turned around to face her. She looked radiant and wholesomely fresh in her simple terry cloth robe, a winsome smile on her face, skin glowing and hair still damp from the shower.

Placing my hands on her hips, I pulled her close and enveloped her in my arms, giving her a fierce, long hug.

“Probably about as much as you’ve done for me, Mom. You know what’s scary, though?

“What’s that?”

“I think it’s going to get better still. Deeper, more intense.”

“I think you’re right. Are you ready for that?”

I drew a deep breath. “I think so. It’s funny though, you know…what we agreed to yesterday.”

“How so?”

“Well, if you had asked me if I thought I could hold out for a while, waiting for you, even a few weeks ago, I don’t know if I could have said yes. I had been living in such a constant state of frustration for so long…but now…now I’m feeling sort of at peace with the idea. I know for sure I can be patient now. I think that the delay is going to make it even better when it does happen. For that, I can wait.”

“My dear, sweet, sexy lover-son, you are full of unsuspected depths and surprises, and not just carnal ones, either. You are wise beyond your years. Honestly, I’m at the point where I don’t know if I can wait another minute.”

“Smooth or ribbed, Mom?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Smooth or ribbed? We need to be prepared when the moment is right. I figure I should pick up some protection when we go out shopping later today.”

“You are always my considerate, thoughtful young man. I appreciate that offer more than you know, but I have other plans for your wonderful spunk.”

“What do you mean, Mom?”

I felt her take a deep breath and she burrowed her head against my chest, hugging me tightly before continuing. “What I mean, Ricky, is that I’ve thought about this a lot. I don’t ever want to not feel your cum, no matter where you are in me…that’s why I’m going to see my gynecologist as soon as I can tomorrow. She’ll probably need to do a few tests, but everything should be squared away for us by the end of the week. That way, we can be totally spontaneous. That’s what I would like.”

“Wow. Just. Wow. Does that mean you’re going to go on the pill? I mean, I know how it’s not as safe if you’re over 30 and all and I really like the idea of it being totally natural, but… it’s not worth it if there’s even the slightest chance of a problem for you, Mom,” I finished in a rush, out of breath.

“I won’t do anything she advises against, I promise. We’ll only do things the safest way, okay?” she replied, smiling enigmatically.

“Okay, Mom. I trust you,” I replied, putting further questions to the back of my mind.

“Great. Let’s eat this wonderful breakfast and we’ll head out. We’ll hit the mall first and then the Farmer’s Market on the way back, okay?”

“Yours to command, lover lady.”

Later, as we drove to the mall, Mom snuggled up next to me and nuzzled my cheek, her hand idly caressing my thigh, occasionally straying to my crotch, where she would lightly trace my hardening outline with her fingernail. She was wearing the gorgeous sundress from our July 4th celebration, proudly braless, looking irresistible. It was a major effort to concentrate on the road, between her attire and hands teasing my dick.

“If you keep that up, I’ll have to pull over and take you by force,” I growled.

She laughed lightly. “I’m simply helping you to develop greater self control, lover boy.”

I reached over to her side of the seat and quickly jerked her sundress up to her hips. “Two can play that game, you shameless hussy,” I said.

I was prepared to just feel my way into her folds while driving and bring her off with my hand, but I made the mistake of glancing down first.

I almost swerved off the road.

Mom laughed delightedly and turned my head to face forward. “As that poet James Morrison once sang, ‘Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel’,” she quipped.

“Holy shit Mom! Where did those come from? I thought I was familiar with all your panties from my beating off days,” I said somewhat sheepishly. “I’m pretty damn sure I would have remembered transparent, French cut and crotchless, for god’s sake.”

“We women must have our secrets, dear boy. I take it you like?”

“Like? Jesus Mom, they’re blazing hot!”

“The light’s changed, sweetheart. Now, be a dear and watch the road. You can pay attention to my pussy later.”

It wasn’t easy, but I managed to guide us safely to the mall. We wound our way up through the parking structure until we found a spot where I could pull in. Turning the ignition off, I sat back and let out a deep breath.

“Aren’t you getting out, sweetheart?”

“Jeez, give me a minute, Mom. If I try to move right now, I might snap something in half.”

“You poor boy. Mommy will have to help you with that terrible swelling after we finish shopping.”

She wrapped her hand around the back of my neck, turning my face to hers and spoke teasingly, lightly kissing me and then touching her finger to my lips to emphasize each word as she continued. “As we discussed this morning. Patience. Is. A. Virtue. Now, stuff that nasty snake down you pants leg and lets go shopping.”

“I think I’ve fallen in love with a sadist.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, lover boy.”

“So what’s next then, thigh high leather boots, corsets and whips?”

Mom could always give back as good as she got. “Why not add a donkey, a dwarf and a couple of bratwursts?”

I laughed long and hard. “I foresee an interesting life with you, Mom.”


As we strolled through Bloomingdale’s into the central atrium, Mom said, “I have a couple of stops I’d like to make by myself sweetie. Is that okay? Meet you here by the kiosk in an hour?”

“Okay Mom. I’ve got something I’d like to do myself. I’m going to go over to the bank branch and get started.”

“Do you have enough in your account? Do you need anything more?”

“Thanks Mom, I’m good.”

“See you in an hour.”

I set about my business and was able to make my single, very important purchase in short order. I made my way back to our rendezvous location. As always, Mom was precise and punctual, arriving on the dot, appearing flushed and happy, sporting three large, fancy shopping bags.

“Well, it looks like someone had themselves a good time.” I tried for a quick peek into the bags and Mom danced away, her eyes sparkling.

“No peeking before Christmas, naughty boy!”

“Christmas?” I said incredulously.

“It’s coming early this year.”

“I see.”

“You will soon enough, I daresay.”

“I don’t recognize the brands on those boxes.” I rolled the unfamiliar names off my tongue. “Aubade, Bordelle, La Perla, Eres.”

“You’ll be enlightened soon enough. Down, boy!” She slapped at my hands as I made another attempt to peek.

“We’ve got one more stop, Ricky. Come with me.”

Mom hooked her arm in mine and led us down a side corridor, clearly an administrative part of the mall. We stopped at a door marked “Security Services” and Mom knocked lightly. The door opened shortly and we were confronted by a uniformed presence.

“Can I help you ma’am?”

“Oh yes, I surely hope so, officer. We’re parked over on level 5 and I’m a bit concerned about going out to our car. I thought I saw a rather disreputable fellow skulking around there when we came into the mall. I’d just like to know that it’s safe to head out. One can’t be too careful these days.”

“Certainly, ma’am. Step inside and we’ll check the monitors quickly. Would you feel safer with an escort?”

“Oh no, officer, you’re too kind. It’s enough that you’re checking the cameras now, thanks so much.”

“It’ll just take a minute for us to cycle through them all.”

“You’re very kind, officer. I appreciate your efforts.”

“My pleasure, ma’am”

Several minutes later, as we left, I couldn’t contain my curiosity any further. “Mom, what was that about? We parked in a very safe spot.”

She turned to me, kissing my cheek and squeezing my arm.

“Men are so hopeless when it comes to planning ahead. There’s no camera coverage on the northwest corner of the top level and no one is parked up there now,”

“Mom! You mean…”

She leaned into me and whispered seductively into my ear, literally pushing my mouth gently closed, fingers under my chin.

“I need to sit on your face right now, Ricky. I want you to eat me ’till I come all over you.”

It was a miracle that my rapidly engorging cock didn’t rip through my pants on the spot. We practically ran back to the car. By the time I was seated behind the wheel, my hands were shaking so much, I had a difficult time fitting the key in the ignition.

“What’s the problem, love? I thought guys all had that ‘tab a into slot b’ stuff hardwired into their brains,” Mom teased.

“You’re a horrible tease. I’m suffering from severe diversion of blood from the big to the little head and what little real gray matter I’ve got left is turning to tapioca.”

Somehow, I managed to start the car and back out without damaging anything.

“Drive slowly now, Ricky. Don’t attract attention. Nurse Mommy has the cure for what ails you. A little farther now. Over there, to the left. Perfect.”

“Okay, Ricky, outside.”


“Silly – we’ve got to open the hatch and fold the back seats down. There’s already a blanket there. C’mon.”

Mom crawled into the back, hiking up her dress, exposing her creamy thighs and those wonderful panties, perfectly framing her nether lips. I could see she was already slick with anticipation. Once I was in beside her, she turned rapidly and threw her hips over my head, driving her sex on to my face. She practically ripped my pants down, immediately engulfing my cock with her mouth. I bent to the task at hand, licking front to back, back to front. I wormed the index finger of one hand into her little pink pucker and reached to the front with my other, gently massaging and pinching her clit. Her sucking and hand motion on my cock increased in frequency and intensity. Soon, her thighs began to rhythmically contract around my ears, increasing in frequency and strength. She was close and so was I. Pulling my finger from her ass, I started slapping her cheeks and thrust my tongue back where the finger had just been as hard and deep as I could, all the time increasing my stimulation of her clit. We went over the cliff to bliss together, rocking the car furiously with our climaxes.

Some indeterminate time later, I came back to earth. “My god, Mom, you are a total fiend! Never did I even imagine such a scene, even in my wildest dreams. That was soooooo good!”

Mom turned around to snuggle up with me, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “I loved it too, Ricky.” She shuddered briefly. “What those wonderful lips and hands do to me – they set me on fire!”

“Perhaps we should keep an extinguisher handy in the future. I would be devastated if you were to spontaneously combust,” I teased.

“Oho! Aren’t we the egotistical one now!”

“Just the facts, Ma’am. When you detonate, you’re probably a public safety hazard. The next time I eat you, we may need the Bomb Squad on hand.”

“Enough! We need to go home and clean up. It might cause a bit of a stir if you were to show up at the farmer’s market with my juice all over you face. Besides, it’s rude to squeeze the produce when you have stink-finger.”

She adopted a plummy British accent. “It’s simply not the done thing, don’t you know.”

I conceded defeat for this round of teasing. I should have known better than to try to trade witticisms with an attorney.

“Your coach awaits, milady,” I said, conceding defeat.

Our trip to the market was a surprisingly welcome interlude of day-to-day normalcy. It was a pure, simple pleasure to stroll the market together, arm in arm as mother and son. As wonderful as our new intimacy was, I truly savored our tour through the various vendor stalls, just enjoying being with Mom.

Outwardly, we presented a perfectly normal appearance, walking from vendor to vendor, Mom’s arm linked trough mine. But the fleeting glances we occasionally gave each other spoke to something that was definitely not mundane or ordinary. Our new, incredible secret buoyed us beyond any daily triviality, making every moment of our shared activities altogether precious and unique.

While we strolled the aisles, Mom’s hand never left my arm, her touch light, appearing perfectly appropriate to any outside observation. Only I could notice the random, light caress of a fingertip across my skin, occasionally raising goose bumps.

We took our time, stopping frequently to sample fresh cheeses and fruit. We daintily and circumspectly fed each other the giveaways, mindful of our public location. There was an overwhelming temptation to suck fingertips into one another’s mouths after some of the samples, especially the warm Brie, but we managed to maintain decorum, just barely. When we were in small passages between stalls and no one was near, Mom would draw close to me, lightly bumping her hip against mine. It was a simple, just slightly intimate gesture, but it affected me deeply. I felt like we were two pieces of a long-separated puzzle, now finally and irrevocably joined.

We didn’t really have any particular plan of shopping as we explored the many booths. I think we were simply happy to be there, doing a simple, day-to-day task together. Eventually, we found our way to the display of a local charcuterie, famous for their salami.

“Oh, look Ricky!” Mom exclaimed with delight. “The butcher has guanciale again!”

“Great! If we can score some orecchiette and pecorino Romano, we’ll be golden. Let’s get some salad greens and anchovies and I’ll make a Caesar too.”

“That sounds scrumptious. You really spoil me, sweetie. I’m just worried that all of this is going to make my ass positively matronly before too long.”

I bent to whisper in her ear. “You already know how I feel about your amazing ass, mother mine. Anyway, you’ll need those calories quick enough. One of your orgasms probably burns a whole plate’s worth.”

“Promises, promises.”


If I may say so, our dinner was wonderful. The pasta came out exceptionally well, in true, elegant, simple Roman style, the Caesar perfectly crisp and fresh. We killed the better part of a whole bottle of Panizzi Vernaccia di San Gimignano, lending a slightly tipsy air of hilarity to the meal. Mom sat next to me and we fed each other, holding hands and occasionally giggling like giddy children. We each managed to steal a few kisses from one another between bites, with just the occasional, tip tingling touching of tongues.

It was simple, sensuous, uncomplicated and one of the finest meals of my entire life.

As we pushed our plates away to the center of the table, Mom relaxed her head onto my shoulder. She belched indelicately once and chuckled. “That was perfect, son,” she sighed. “You are far too talented a chef for my waistline – if we keep going like this, what little of my figure that I still have will disappear into folds of fat in about 2 weeks.”

“Well Mom, I guess I’ll just have to make sure that we increase the number of orgasms you have each day, that should offset my cooking.”

“We can publish a new diet and be famous and rich, then Ricky. ‘The Making Mommy Cum Cookbook’ sounds about right, don’t you think?”

“A sure-fire bestseller, if there ever was one, Mom.”

“We’ll find a publisher tomorrow, but in the meanwhile, I need another kiss from my handsome young lover. Then maybe we’ll work on some of the recipes for that book.”

“Mmmmm. Will it have illustrations and photos?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you insatiable horndog.”

“Only if I get to pick the pictures, ” I whispered into her ear, giving her ass a squeeze.

“What do you mean, you getting to pick? I thought this was going to be a collaborative effort.”

“Yeah, but I’m the trained chef here. That means I get to be on top-I mean I’m in charge of the project.”

Mom cackled in delight. “You’re a real brat, but you make me laugh and I love you to death. I’ll probably curse you later for the wrinkles you’ll give me, but I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“Mmmmm.” I buried my face in her hair, stroking her back. “What do you think causes more wrinkles, laughing or coming real hard?”

“It depends on how much spunk is available to rub in the skin afterwards.”

“I think an experiment is in order, Mom.”

“Well, my darling boy, we all occasionally have to make sacrifices for the advancement of knowledge. Let’s go to bed and do our part, lover. I’ve wanted to feel your come on my tits for a while now.”


The next morning, I got busy with chores while Mom went to her doctor and then to the office. The big job was restaining the privacy fence in the back yard, which was going to take several days. It was already muggy and hot when I got outside at 8:30 and the day promised to become even more sultry as the job progressed. I made a big jug of instant lemonade, generously dosed with ice, stripped down to my shorts and got to work.

It was probably just as well that I had a monotonous, more or less mindless task to keep me occupied, because all I could think about was our amazing weekend together. I’m not sure how good a job I did with the painting, as I spent most of the morning daydreaming, a huge idiot smile on my face and a stiff dick in my shorts.

By midday, it must have been ninety degrees and ninety percent humidity and I felt like I was melting. To prevent myself from turning into a piece of beef jerky, I started jumping into the pool for a lap every twenty or thirty minutes, which allowed me to make good progress. Around 4:00 or so, I was better than halfway done and felt pretty thoroughly baked, so I called it a day. I brought a beat up old boom box to the poolside and put on a Top 40 oldies station. Slathering myself with more sunscreen, I threw an air mattress into the pool and climbed on board, promptly dozing off.


I awoke rudely and suddenly, finding myself underwater. Spluttering and choking, I came to the surface, face to face with Mom, her hands clutching my air mattress.

Grinning wickedly, she crowed “Gotcha!”

She was wearing a bra and sensible white cotton panties, all clinging to her skin beneath the surface of the pool, nearly transparent in their wetness. I could see her blouse and skirt in a pile at the edge of the pool. Her nipples were erect, rosy and prominent against the cups of the brassiere. Her reddish brown thatch showed clearly through her panties, which clung tightly to her hips.

“You snuck up on me, you devious minx.”

“That I did, pool boy. You were too tempting a target to pass up.”

“An uncalled for sneak attack, if you ask me,” I pretended to be affronted. “I demand reparations.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“I do.” Pulling the air mattress from her gently, I slipped an arm under her legs, pulling her up off her feet, my other arm supporting her back as she floated closer to me. As she placed her arms around my neck, my mouth sought hers. Our kiss continued for some time, tongues twining in liquid dance, time slowing until we reluctantly broke to breathe. Steve Winwood was playing on the radio and we were serenaded perfectly by “Back In the High Life Again” as I held Mom, floating in my arms.

“Mmmmmm. Missed you, Mom.”

“Me too, my sweet son. It took a little while to get settled in at work this afternoon. It was hard to concentrate – too many nice memories from the weekend.”

“I had a hard on practically the whole day,” I admitted sheepishly.

“I hope you saved some for your mother,” she teased.

“I don’t think I’ll ever jack off again, Mom.”

“You’re so sweet, darling boy. I’m afraid I wasn’t as good as you, in fact, I was very bad today, Ricky,” Mom confessed.

“What did you do, naughty girl?”

“I fingered myself in the executive washroom three times today. I couldn’t wait to get back to my beautiful young stud – I was just too horny for my own good.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, mother dear.”

“As well you should, young man.”

We exchanged a few more kisses as I walked us towards the pool edge, setting Mom on the combing, her legs dangling over the edge, feet in the water. Moving close to her, I kissed her stomach, fluttering my lips on the soft skin of her flanks, then dragging my tongue to glide around the perimeter of her navel. Her hands circled my head, twining lightly in my hair and she drew my cheek against her belly with a sigh.

“Is this part of your reparations, sweetheart?” She asked with a sultry, coquettish smile.

I exhaled on her skin, causing her to shiver and then resumed kissing her belly button, dragging my tongue through its smooth, oval depression.

“It’s a beginning, Mom.”

“Ahhhhh, you have such a wonderful mouth, son,” she exhaled softly as I moved down to the juncture of her thighs, lightly blowing on her mound through her panties. “Are you hoping for treble damages?”

“The jury’s still out, Mom.” Pulling her to the edge of the pool, I placed my mouth directly on her sex, sucking her lips through the fabric of her panties, tasting her juices mingled with the pool water.

She inhaled with a sharp hiss. “Oh, baby, that’s so nice. You make me feel so good, my love.”

I couldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed the waistband of her panties and tried to jerk them over her hips, Mom smiling as I struggled to pull the uncooperative, wet fabric down to her thighs. Bracing her hands on my shoulders, she raised her bottom to assist me. Growling with impatience, I finally wrestled her soaking briefs past her knees and threw them into the pool with a small splash.

“Oh my, someone’s in a hurry,” Mom giggled.

Grinning, I pushed her thighs apart and dove in, opening my mouth wide to suck in as much of her succulent quim as I could, rolling my tongue over every inch of the flesh encompassed by my lips. Mom arched her back with a throaty moan and pushed herself against my face, hands fastening onto my ears.

“Ahh, God, Ricky. So good, please don’t stop, baby.”

Jesus, she tasted so good, I could hardly stand it. Her juice was at once tangy, salty and ever so slightly sweet, with an indescribable note of musk. It tasted like my lifeblood. I lapped, sucked, nibbled and probed everywhere I could reach with my tongue, spurred on to greater and greater efforts by Mom’s moans and sighs as I worked over her magnificent cunt, allowing myself to be directed to her favorite spots as she guided my head with her hands, fingers firmly gripping my hair. As her hands tightened and her thrusts against my face became more forceful, I slipped two fingers into her sopping channel, delicately questing for her special place. As I found the spot, she arched her back and pulled me in tightly.

“Oh, fuck, Ricky! Oh, yes, that’s it baby, right there!”

Mom began to lift her buttocks off the cement of the poolside, trying to increase her contact with my face, now moaning constantly. I bent to her clit, gently taking it in my lips, lightly flicking with my tongue, swirling over her nub. As her hip thrusts became more and more urgent, I began sucking with more strength, moving my hand within her slick passage, keeping my curled fingers in contact with her G spot. Abruptly, her thighs scissored strongly around my head and she jammed herself against my face, legs suddenly thrusting straight out and vibrating.

“Ahhhhh! Goddddd! Ricky! Baby! Yes, yes!” she cried in a tight voice, eyes tightly shut in a grimace of pleasure.

Then she was gushing on my mouth and I could barely keep up with her spending, trying to catch every luscious drop of her nectar as she spasmed against my face.

Gradually, her thighs relaxed and her hands unclenched from my hair, dropping down to stroke my ears and temples. Sighing, she pulled me close, head against her abdomen, caressing my cheek. “My sweet, sweet boy,” she murmured. “You really do love your momma, don’t you?”

Sighing in my own turn, I whispered, “There really aren’t words for how I feel Mom, so I can only show you,” planting soft kisses on her belly as I spoke.

“Wow, tiger,” she exhaled contentedly. “You are something else. I hope the neighbors didn’t hear anything. I came so hard, I think I pulled a muscle.”

“Tell me where it hurts and I’ll kiss your owee, Mom.”

“That would be dangerous. My ass is already raw from the concrete, you naughty boy.”

“I could definitely kiss that and make it much, much better.”

“Like you did in the kitchen Saturday morning?” She shuddered as she spoke. “I don’t know if I could take that right now. You have a wonderfully wicked tongue, son of mine.”

I heaved myself out of the pool and sat next to her and gave her a hug. “Like I said, Mom, I missed you.”

“I better make sure not to stay away more than a day, if this is how much you miss me after only nine hours. If I’m gone any longer, my welcome home would probably drive me insane with pleasure.”

“Would that be a bad thing, Mom? Being driven insane that way?” I asked teasingly.

“I guess there are worse fates for a mother, darling,” she giggled, kissing my cheek affectionately.

Slipping one arm around my waist, she snuggled in close under my shoulder, reaching into my lap with her other hand. Slipping her hand under the waistband of my shorts, she reached down and caressed my stiff shaft, drawing her fingertips up to my glans to rub my tip, smearing precum on the crown. I shuddered and leaned my head back. “Ahhhh, I love your hands, Mom. You know just how to touch me.”

“We can balance our accounts right now, if you want,” Mom said, licking her lips, “Or if you can wait until after dinner, I’ll repay you with interest.”

Groaning, I bit my lip as she continued to stroke me. “Oh God, I dunno, Mom. I guess I’ll wait.”

“A wise investment, lover boy. You won’t regret it, I can assure you.”

With considerable effort, I pushed myself back towards the mundane. “How about dinner, Mom? I was going to make a salad and flip a couple of burgers. That okay?”

“Perfect, Ricky. I’ll get changed while you fire up the grill.”

I picked up Mom’s blouse and skirt and followed her into the kitchen, my eyes glued as always to her swaying hips and magnificent dimpling ass as she made her way indoors.

I fixed our dinner quickly, my woody taking quite a bit of time to subside. Mom came down from her room just as I was putting the burgers together. One look at her and I was hard as armor plating again in ten seconds. She was wearing one of my old cut-off football jerseys, which extended only to slightly below her ribcage, along with a silky pair of skimpy, shiny white bikini panties, which only half covered her gorgeous cheeks.

As she moved, I could occasionally glimpse the undersurface of her breasts flashing out from the hem of my old shirt. The ginger thatch of her pubic hair was readily evident through the slightly transparent material of the front panel of the panties and I could see some hair spilling out above the waistband in a slight muffin top and on either side of the gusset. It was mesmerizing. I probably stood stock still for at least fifteen or twenty seconds, frozen in the middle of the kitchen floor.

“Close your mouth, sweetheart. Something might fly in.”

“Wow, Mom. You look so sexy. I love it.”

Glancing at my rapidly tenting shorts, Mom smiled. “Looks like two votes to me, Ricky.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. I don’t know what it is about a lady wearing her guy’s clothes, but there’s something about it that really floats my boat, Mom. I think that should be your relaxing at home uniform from now on.”

She stepped up to me and put her arms around my waist, leaning her head on my chest, rubbing her belly lightly against my erection. “I’m glad you like it. I love wearing your clothes, smelling you on them. It makes me feel close to you.”

I slipped my hands around to cup her buttocks and gave her a caressing squeeze. “Have I ever told you I love you?”

“Not in the last fifteen minutes.”

“Well, then, it’s time to remind you. I do, you know.”

“You can remind me whenever you feel it’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to forget.”

“I will make sure that doesn’t happen.”

As Mom hugged me, I heard and felt her stomach growl.

“Did you eat anything today, Mom?”

“Just a banana at breakfast and a cup of soup when I got to the office.”

“Insufficient quality and quantity for a growing girl,” I gently scolded. I took her hand and led her to the kitchen table. “Your burger and salad await. Would you like a glass of wine or something else to drink?”

“Actually a cold beer sounds good. Do we have any Sam Adams left?”

“Absolutely. In a glass?”

“Bottle’s fine, sweetie.”

While Mom dug into her dinner, I sat back, occasionally taking a bite from my own sandwich, picking at my salad while I watched her eat, a small smile on my face. After a while, she stopped eating and stared at me.

“All right, what’s up Ricky? You’ve barely touched you food. Surely it can’t be that interesting to watch me chew and swallow.”

“I just happen to like looking at you and besides, I didn’t see my girlfriend all day. I’m catching up.”

“You must be in a pretty bad way, if that’s all it takes to make you happy,” she quipped with a teasing tone.

“I’d be perfectly content to sit here for a couple of hours and watch you pick your nose.”

“Ricky! That’s gross! Well, maybe a little sweet too, but still gross. We’ll get you professional help first thing tomorrow, but in the meanwhile, eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

“Yes, Momma dear.”

After cleaning up the dishes, we went into the family room, cuddling on the sofa, paying semi attention to the TV. Mom sat in one corner, me in the middle, her legs draped across my lap. I massaged her feet and calves as we watched someone taking “B’ -ing an Author” for $800, Alex.

“Ahh, that’s heavenly, Ricky. You’re spoiling me to death.”

“Better get used to it, pretty lady. It’s going to be my main hobby in the future.”

As I continued, Mom heaved a contented sigh and settled back into the cushions, eyes half closed.



“Aren’t you going to tell me about your doctor’s appointment today? How did it go? Is everything okay?”

“I was wondering when you’d get around to asking me. Everything’s just fine, Ricky. You and I have a date for this Friday, lover.”

“For real, Mom?”

Mom swung her feet off my lap and stretched out, smiling gently as she regarded me.

“For real, Ricky.”

“Oh my sweet Jesus, I can hardly believe this is happening. My God, I think I’m losing my mind. I can hardly wait!”

“Believe it, son. It’s real – you and me, it’s as real as it gets.”

She reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me down to her side.

“C’mere, you bad boy. Momma needs a kiss.”

I was happy to oblige.

As we embraced, Mom smiled and pulled back from our kiss, brushing my hair back from my forehead. “Ricky, have I told you I love you recently?”

Smiling, I gave her a peck and replied, “Not in the last fifteen minutes or so, Mom.”

“I love you very much, Ricky.”

“So it’s not just my body?”

“Brat. You’re absolutely impossible.”

Kissing her back more intently, I replied “And you’re absolutely, heart-stoppingly beautiful, Mom.”

“It’s not true, but you’re turning my head anyway, sweet boy.”

Tracing her hand lightly down my chest, she slid it across my belly and under the waistband of my shorts, gently squeezing my perpetual erection.

“Do your sweet nothings have an ulterior purpose, my horny young man?”

“Never and always, sexy lady. I do seem to recall something about a debt to be repaid with interest, though.”

“I see. And now you’ve come to collect, I suppose.”

Slipping a hand underneath her jersey, I gently cupped her breast, lightly tracing my fingertip over the nipple, slightly flicking it. Mom sighed and arched her back to meet my hand as I caressed her.

“I do like to keep my accounts receivable in order, madam. You don’t want a past due notice, do you? The interest might be more than you can afford. I should also warn you that I personally collect on all my delinquent bills,” I said in a very formal, severe tone.

Pulling her shirt off over her head, I trailed kisses down from her neck to her breasts, sucking, licking and pulling lightly on her nipples with my lips. I alternated between the sisters for a good five or ten minutes, thoroughly nursing from each, Mom cradling my head with her hands as I suckled, murmuring encouragement and endearments. I slowly turned my attentions lower and lower, kissing and licking her navel as I ran a hand underneath the elastic of her panties and through her luxuriant thatch, seeking her sex, relishing the wiry, slightly scratchy texture of her pubic hair in my fingers as I searched. As I found her lips, I slipped my middle finger into her clinging moistness, drawing a gasp as I slid in as far as I could.

Quickly peeling her panties off her hips, I bent my head to her labia, gently licking up and down on either side, teasing close to her clit as I went from side to side, but never actually touching it.

Running her hands through my hair, Mom sighed. “Baby, that’s so nice, but it’s supposed to be your turn.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Mom. I just needed an excuse to get my mouth on your sweet pussy again. I could do this all day, you taste so good.”

“Mmmm. Ohhh god…you’re spoiling… me…rotten…again, young man,” she groaned.

Shifting away, Mom turned around, presenting her ass to me as she pushed my shorts down past my knees. Placing her knees above my shoulders, I reached around her, encompassing her back and flanks with my arms, pulling her dewy lips down to my mouth.

Pulling her close, I delved my tongue into her portal, my nose rubbing her perineum and rosebud as I licked and sucked. Mom moaned and then encircled my glans with her lips, swirling her tongue over my head as she sucked, gradually taking most of my length in, continuously sucking and milking as her mouth rode up and down my shaft.

We continued for some time, mouths on each other, literally savoring our time together, neither of us in any hurry to consummate our oral lovemaking. There was something about this particular moment that made us both want to prolong our giving pleasure to each other for as long as possible. It was sweet, slow and exquisitely intimate. Yet again, I was amazed at how we instinctively seemed to know exactly what the other needed and wanted at any particular moment.

Slowly, we began to increase our pace, Mom’s movements on my face and my thrusting into her mouth gradually picking up in intensity and speed as we rose towards our peaks. I began long, languorous licks from Mom’s clit back to her ass, delving into her pink asterisk with each passage. She moaned around my cock and began sucking furiously, keeping only my head in her mouth as her thighs began to contract spasmodically around my head. I could barely breathe, but I was in heaven as Mom suddenly clamped her thighs around my ears in a stiff, frozen vise, releasing her juices all over my nose and lips. Her intense release set me off as well, and I began firing off a seeming endless, pulsing stream of semen into her waiting, caressing mouth. I could sense her swallowing rapidly, trying to keep up with my flow as her trembling thighs slowly relaxed their grip on my head.

Finally, I had to catch my breath, pulling my face away from her sodden cunt, as she laid her head on my thigh, both of us panting with our exertions and sweet release.

I wormed my way out from under her, snuggling up to her back, taking her in my arms, showering her neck and spine with kisses. We lay together for some time, gradually catching our collective breath; Mom tightly nestled in my arms, spooned against me. From time to time, I would nuzzle her back or the nape of her neck, while she caressed my arms.

While we snuggled, I became hard against her ass again, but there was no sense urgency or burning need to start something going a second time. Mom acknowledged my recovery with the occasional gentle push and light grind back against my erection, but at the same time she traced her hands all over my upper body, more for the simple joy of affectionate contact than for purposes of stimulation. Every so often, she would take my hand and bring it to her lips for a warm, loving kiss. It was as though we were each divided in two, lovers below the waist and loving mother and son above. I reveled in the strange, wonderful duality of the sensations and feelings, which felt so completely, purely loving and gloriously erotic at the same time. As these emotions gradually fused together in my mind, they transported me to a place I had never been; a place that I never even knew existed before.

I was incredibly, acutely aware of every aspect of those few seemingly eternal minutes – the smell of our combined releases, our mingled tastes on my tongue, the lift and expansion of her ribcage against my encircling arms as I held her just below her breasts, the slight sweatiness and stickiness of our skin, her back to my front, the gentle sough of skin against the fabric of the couch as we slightly shifted our positions, the very faint sigh of the central air conditioning, an occasional drip of water into the kitchen sink, far-off outside noises of passing cars, distant lawnmowers and children playing in the cooling evening and the warm fragments of golden late light slanting through the blinds of the family room, dappling our bodies. It all melted together into an eternal, warm fusion of perfection. So sweet was the instant, I still remember it with greater clarity than almost any other memory of our time together.

As I grew older, I came to know that the Indonesians have a specific name for that sublime suspension of duration – “djam karet,” elastic time, the hour that stretches. If you are very, very lucky, you may experience such a moment once or twice in your life with your lover.

Mom stirred slightly, delicately tracing her fingertips across my forearms, raising goose bumps. The endless moment recompressed, time sweetly fracturing back into discrete seconds and minutes and we were mortal once again.

“Mmmmmm. That was wonderful, my sweet, sexy son.”

“Everything just keeps getting better and better, Mom. You’re my beautiful, gorgeous girl.”

“Pshaw, Ricky. You’re hardly an objective judge.”

“That’s the point, Mom. I freely admit my prejudice, in fact I embrace it,” I retorted, squeezing her for extra emphasis.

“I suppose I shouldn’t complain.”

“Darnn right, lady. You’re now stuck with me and my opinions.”

Mom paused for a minute, thinking, still running her hands over my arms.

“Ricky, about Friday. I want to ask you something.”


“How would you feel if I suggested that we cool it until then, sleeping in our own rooms, no touching, no hands, no lips, no masturbating?”

“Geez, I don’t know Mom. Do you really think waiting will make it better?”

“Actually, I do. I know it’s going to be very, very special anyway, but I think that if we agreed to step back just for a few days, it would be that much more intense. Besides,” she whispered wickedly, “When you come in me the first time, I want it to be your biggest load ever, lover boy.”

I was struck speechless by the raw desire and passion in her voice as she spoke. The unspoken promise and naked lust her words conveyed left me reeling for a moment.

“H…ho…holy shit, Mom,” I stuttered in shock. “Wow…just wow. You are unbelievable, Mom, absolutely unbelievable.”

“Did I shock you, my darling?” she laughed happily. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, handsome boy. This is what you get when you take a real, mature woman for your lover.”

“I think I just fell into the deep end of the pool, pretty lady – I just didn’t realize it until now,” I smiled. “I think I’ll be able to stay afloat, though. You have been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?”

“I’ve thought of little else since Friday night, Ricky.”

“Putting it that way, I guess I could manage. I do have one condition, though.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’m not giving up any kisses or couch time before then.”

“I think we’ve got a deal, lover.”


It would be romantic to say that we had a sweet, smooth buildup until Friday, but I’d be lying through my teeth. By the time Thursday evening rolled around, we were both borderline psychotic. There were several times when snuggling on the couch or off-to-work kisses nearly turned into full meltdowns, but somehow we managed to make it through the first four days. We did have one disagreement when I wanted to call off from working at Louie’s on Friday evening, but Mom wouldn’t hear of it. While not exactly scolding me, she did make her point clearly.

“Ricky, honey, you made a promise to Louie. You can’t leave him in the lurch on such short notice. In any event, I have a late meeting in the City that I absolutely, positively cannot get out of. The earliest I could get home would be 7:30 or 8:00 anyway. As much as I would love to drop everything, it’s not possible. Besides, when you figure when I’ll get home, it’ll only be a couple more hours ’till you finish your shift.”

Kissing me gently, she ruffled my hair and smiled. “Remember son, in the future, we’re going to be continually busy in our day to day lives. It’s built into the nature of our careers. There’s always going to be something that will keep us apart from one another longer than we’d like. That’s the way it is with all couples. That’s real life. Please be patient sweetheart, we’re almost there,” she pleaded.

Groaning, I hugged her, burying my face in her hair, inhaling soap and sandalwood. “I hear you Mom, but God, it’s tough. I had no idea how difficult it would be. I can’t stand to have you out of my sight for more than five minutes anyway, but when you’re here, not being able to touch or hold you, it’s driving me totally insane.”

“I feel the same, Ricky. I’m no better off than you are – I’m aching to be with you too. Hang in there, big guy.”

I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how difficult Friday was. The tension between us was incredible. I think that the slightest intimacy would have set us both off in an explosion of uncontrollable lust. We settled for perfunctory kisses on the cheek as I sent Mom on her way in the morning and I immediately headed for the pool, swimming laps as hard and fast as I could for the better part of an hour. When I was done, I could barely haul myself out of the pool, I was so out of breath.

The rest of the day passed so slowly, it made continental drift look positively zippy. I eventually gave up, going into work a couple hours early. Helping with anything I could, sweeping, cleaning, doing mis en place, all served to take my mind off Mom.

In all honesty, I don’t think I could recount a single detail on my shift that evening, even if my life depended on it. I don’t think I screwed anything up in the kitchen, but beyond that, it’s all night and fog. I remember practically sprinting to the car, dropping my keys twice and cursing as I tried to get in the door. I also recall seeing a small post-it on the steering wheel when I got in.

It was in Mom’s neat pen and simply said, “Be careful coming home sweetie. Please, please don’t rush. Love, Mom.”

She must have snuck by in a cab earlier, I thought. It brought a smile to my lips that she knew me so well and I was touched that she took time out of her evening to think about me. I drove home somewhat more carefully for it, not breaking the speed limit too badly.

I was hollering the moment I walked into the kitchen from the garage.

“Mom! I’m home! Mom! Where are you?”

Her voice drifted down from upstairs, muffled by the closed door of her bedroom.

“I’m getting ready, Ricky. Get cleaned up and wait in your room, okay darling?”

Groaning inwardly, I replied in the affirmative and set about preparing myself. As I showered, I was so wound up I dropped the soap at least a half dozen times. It’s probably a good thing I had shaved before I left for work, because in the state I was in, I’d have been covered with nicks if I’d tried anything now. Eventually, I finished my preparations and sat waiting on my bed, each tick of my alarm clock tolling as slowly as the bells of the universe.


The moment had arrived and I was unaccountably, almost uncontrollably nervous. I was about to realize my fondest dream, but I had something equally important to do first, which I was actually more worried about botching than the sweet ecstasy which I knew was now mere minutes away. I was dressed only in the robe Mom had purchased for me on Sunday, a short, silk kimono-like robe in deep lustrous gray, which extended to my thighs. On the back there was an embroidered crane and the kanji ideograms for strength and courage. I was proud to wear the gift, but more anxious than anything else, as I toyed with the small parcel in my pocket. As the minutes dragged by, my anticipation and anxiety reached fever pitch. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that when the tapping on my door came, I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Are you ready, Ricky?”

Swallowing hard against the lump in my throat, heart pumping like a locomotive, I opened my door.

There is no possible way that mere words can do justice to the vision that was before me in my doorway, but I will try, as best I can.

Her face was an archetype of simplicity and loveliness, eyes sparking in anticipation. She wore no makeup, except for the most minimal of lip gloss. Her hair had been brushed to a luster I had never seen before, framing her face perfectly. Her sensuous smile spoke volumes to me, promising amazing things, but at the same time conveying a depth of tenderness I had seldom, if ever appreciated in the past.

Wrapping her shoulders was a sheer, floor length gown of diaphanous white, as little substance as might be possible, but still containing the smallest weight of silken fabric. Her breasts were encased in a decadent but elegant push up bra, which was at once accentuating and coyly concealing, an amazing amalgam of white lace and smooth, shiny satin. The matching thong panties were equally astounding; a mostly transparent front panel with the merest hint of an overlaid pattern of abstract wave forms, stretching horizontally from the right hip to the center. As my eyes found their way to her center, I could see her magnificent reddish-blonde thatch, subtly trimmed, but still marvelously full and womanly. A small damp spot at the front of the gusset subtly hinted at the location of her succulent labia. Thigh high white stockings with drop-dead elegant lacy elastic tops completed the ensemble.

I reached up to touch her cheek, nearly speechless with emotion. “So beautiful,” I whispered. “My beautiful, beautiful mother.”

“I’m ready, lover. Are you?” she whispered, holding my hand against her cheek.

“Yes, Mom, almost. Wait just a second.” With that, I bent my knee and looked up to her face.

“Jennifer Marie, my love, my best friend, beloved mother, will you consent to take me, your loving son, as your man? I promise to stand by you through all times and trials, always faithful and doing only that which will bring you happiness and joy, for as long as I shall live.”

As I finished my proposal, I took her left hand in mine and slipped on the ring that was in my pocket.

Mom stood perfectly still, in complete shock, her right hand covering her mouth in involuntary surprise. Her eyes darted back and forth from my face to her left hand. Tears welled forth and ran down her cheeks as she raised me up and kissed me tenderly but passionately, mouth, cheeks, forehead and mouth again. She paused, framing her reply.

“Ricky, my son, my heart…I take you as my beloved lover, also promising faithfulness, joy and happiness for all our lives. I will always be at your side, in the best of times and the worst of times. I will never leave you, as long as I shall live.”

“If I may, I’d like to kiss my bride.”

“God help me, I love you so, Ricky!”

Our lips met, tenderly at first and then with increasing urgency and passion, tongues intertwined, giving, receiving, meeting and swirling together. I swept her up into my arms and she wrapped hers around my neck, continuing our kiss. I took her across the threshold of her bedroom and laid her gently on her back, breaking our lips apart. Climbing up beside her, I took her back into my arms, bending to rain kisses on her shoulders and chest, gently cupping her bra-clad breasts as I released them from their silken captivity.

“Oooooh, Ricky, please. I don’t want to wait. I’m ready now. I’m so ready.”

Hooking my fingers on either side of the waistband, I gently slipped the panties off her hips. As the gusset pulled away from her sex, I could see it was saturated, small threads of her essence stringing out from her nether lips as I slowly pulled downward over her thighs. Continuing southward, I gently disengaged the fabric from around her ankles and moved between her open legs. The moment was electric as I lowered myself towards her center, as hard as I’ve ever been in my life. I moved forward and down very slowly, until my tip was just touching her petals, never taking my eyes from her face.

“Here I am, Mom. I’m ready too, but I need to tell you something – you’re my first.”

With a wordless cry, Mom wrapped her arms around my neck, tears welling in her eyes. She lifted. I lowered. There was a brief moment of awkwardness and embarrassment as my first amateurish thrust glanced off the gate of heaven, but then Mom saved me with a warm, understanding smile and a nod, taking me in hand and guiding me home to paradise. Eyes completely focused on each other’s faces, we connected.

The mainspring of the cosmos snapped and all the wheels and gears of my existence ground to a halt. Causation, duration and sequence simply ceased to exist.

Even now, after a complete, very full life, I simply cannot do justice to the experience. My words are just the palest, weakest echo of the sensations and emotions I felt at that magical moment. Perhaps Shakespeare might have been able to convey what it was like, but that particular lover’s sonnet could never be committed to paper, for the emotions and sensations to be described are so forbidden, so intense, so overwhelming, that the very ink on the page would have taken fire, charring the parchment the verses were set upon to ashes in an instant.

As I slowly slid into the oily, silken furnace at her center, we both gasped as I bottomed out, my length fitting absolutely perfectly within her, barely grazing her cervix. The amazing vise of her sex was fully enveloping me in an exquisitely tight embrace and I sensed every millimeter of her interior contours, every tiny variation in pressure, as if her every breath and heartbeat was transmitted directly onto my member.

As unbearably dramatic as those sensations were, my emotions were a quantum level more intense. I was finally with the woman who I had loved my entire life, giving myself to her, taking from her, returning to my origins and sharing the deepest love two people can possibly have for one another.

Overlaid on all of this was the incredible feeling of leaving all boundaries, borders and conventions, all foundations of “normal” far behind us forever, deepening our union and tempering it to a strength that could never be broken.

The frisson of forbidden-ness, the willful breaking of an ultimate taboo was absolutely transcendant, lending an incredible illicit excitement to our coupling, which I knew in my very soul would endure throughout our lives, never, ever failing to excite us, uniting us in a unique bond. In that moment, the course of the rest of my life was completely defined, laid out on rails of the hardest steel, a path I would never, could never leave. I felt I was the luckiest man to ever walk the face of the earth.

“Oh, baby, oh my baby, my son. Yes, baby. That’s good, oh God, that’s so good, honey.”

“My God, Mom, oh my God,” I murmured, nearly speechless with pleasure and desire. “You feel so good, Mom. So good. I love you so much,” I whispered, voice trailing off to a plaintive whisper.

Lowering my head, my lips found hers, our tongues delicately, tentatively and then more urgently intertwining, thrusting against each other, foreshadowing our other movements. Our eyes never left each other. Reaching out, I intertwined my hands with hers, bringing them out to her sides. For a timeless moment, perhaps seconds, perhaps a lifetime, we lay together unmoving, joined in our moment of forbidden, illicit joy, feeling as one, breathing as one, forever changed.

Slowly, I withdrew, memorizing every moment of her moist grip, then bottoming out again with another exquisitely slow stroke, wanting to savor every second of our first incestuous union. Mom moaned and rocked her pelvis up to meet me.

“Ah, Ricky, you’re so big inside me, baby. So big, so hard.” Gently pulling my head towards her, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pressed her lips to my ears and whispered “Give it all to me, baby. Make love to your mother, Ricky.”

With the quiet exhortation echoing in my ears, I began to stroke in earnest, Mom matching my movement with her own sweet thrusting, slowly drawing her knees up, crossing her ankles behind my back. Showering her face with kisses, I increased my tempo, Mom responding in synchronicity.

I’d like to say that we moved together perfectly for hours, but of course that’s simply not true. After waiting nearly a whole week, I was out of my mind with excitement. It was awkward, a bit uncoordinated and over heartbreakingly quickly. Struggling to maintain my control, breath coming in ragged gasps, I strained mightily to prolong the moment, but it simply wasn’t to be.

Sensing my closeness, Mom circled her arms around me, drawing me close, her rock hard nipples scraping my chest. Her eyes absolutely aflame with forbidden lust, she pierced me with her gaze. “It’s okay, honey. Come for me baby, give me your cum, son. Mommy wants you to fill her with your love,” she whispered.

With those words, I lost any semblance of control and unleashed a series of pounding, disjointed thrusts as I felt my seed boiling forward to its release. With a final lunge, I pushed into Mom’s greedily clasping cunt, grinding my groin as tightly as I could with hers. As my orgasm erupted, I felt as though I was spraying molten bullets against the walls of Mom’s loving channel. “Ooooohhh, mygod, Mom! Cummminnnnnngggg innnnn youuuuuuuuuuuu!”

As my spending bathed her clasping sex, Mom crested herself, clamping her legs around my waist, thrusting herself up to meet my downward pinning as I ejaculated. “Ah! Rickie! Cumming! I’m cumming again! Oh! OH! OH! OH! Give me your cuuuuummmmm! Give me your baby!” she screamed.

Gasping with the intensity of our mutual climax, I collapsed onto Mom, hugging her tightly. I rained a shower of gentle kisses all over her face, then tenderly placed my lips on hers, slowly engaging her tongue with mine. Pulling back, I gazed into her eyes, lost in their deep blue pools, her returning stare showing absolute adoration. I overflowed with the perfection of the moment, my own eyes filling with tears.

“Oh, Mom…lover…Jenny Marie…I love you so much! You are my dream come true.”

Openly crying now, I cupped her face in my hands, stroking her cheeks ever so softly with my thumbs, wiping away her own tears.

Lowering my head to the crook of her neck, I murmured in her ear tenderly. “Forever, Mom. You’re mine forever now.”

Squeezing me back with a ferociously intense hug, Mom whispered back to me. “Forever, my son, my lover.”

We lay together silently for an undefined period of time, savoring the contact of every square inch of skin, breathing in unison, feeling our hearts beating together, exchanging the tenderest, sweetest kisses I have ever experienced.

“I’m sorry I was so quick, Mom. I really wanted it to be better for you,” I apologized sheepishly.

Mom rolled her eyes with mock exasperation and then smiled, hugged me tight and kissed me passionately, taking my head in both hands. “Sweetheart, you were fantastic. In case you didn’t notice, I came too. Boy, did I ever come, lover. I’m still waiting to get the license plate of the truck that hit me.”

She smiled gently and stroked my cheek. “It’s only going to get better, beautiful boy. I just know you’re going to be a marvelous lover, but I’ll still remember our first time until my last breath, baby.”

As the loop of wonderful recent memory replayed itself inside my head, I jolted visibly. Mom looked at me with concern.

“What is it, Ricky?”

“What you said, Mom…about a, a, baby?”

She smiled shyly and blushed. “If it were possible, how would you feel about it?”

“Oh, Mom…of all the things I want to share with you, for us, for our lives together, I can’t believe you want this too. It’s another dream come true. God, I want it so bad, I can taste it!”

Mom gave me another passionate, burning kiss. “It’s my dream too, sweetheart. I always wanted more than one child, and I so want for you to experience that joy with me. Besides,” she added wickedly, “It makes me so happy and it makes me sooo fucking wet to think about my own son making me pregnant!”

“So, when you went to see your gynecologist on Monday…”

“That’s right, Ricky. It wasn’t to start the pill – it was to make sure it was safe to get pregnant again.”

Mom brushed my hair out of my eyes and smiled sweetly. “Do you remember what I told you last week, darling, after you made me cum with those wonderful fingers?”

Recalling her request, I felt myself begin to harden again immediately.

Lasciviously thrusting her pelvis up to me, squeezing my rapidly reviving cock in her creamy, velvet vise, Mom said, “I’m fertile right now. It’s time to give your Momma a baby, you handsome motherfucker.

I groaned with lust. “Oh, yes, Mom! I’m going to fuck you so good, I’m going to make you scream. Your son is going to fuck your brains out now, just like you asked. I’m going to give you all my cum and knock you up!”

“Fuck me now, baby, fuck me real good. Make your Mommy pregnant!”

With that, we began our movements together again. Where our first coupling was sweet and filled with tenderness, our joint effort was now suffused with a red-hot alloy of unbridled fuck-lust and the knowledge of our ultimate, primal goal.

As before, the illicit excitement of our forbidden, incestuous consummation lurked in the background, but was now elevated to new, delirious heights of delicious wickedness, surpassing any and all civilized conventions. The knowledge of what we were setting out to do added an incendiary passion to our runaway desires.

Fiercely clutching Mom’s ass, I raised her off of the bed to meet my lunging thrusts. Simultaneously, she wrapped her legs around me, locking her ankles at the small of my back, pulling my ass towards her center with both hands, her fingernails drawing red furrows up my ass cheeks, as she sought to pull every millimeter of my length into her sweet, tight sex.

“Oooohhhh, Ricky,” she crooned. “You feel soooo goooood. Give me all of that wonderful cock!”

“God, Mom, so hot, soooo tiiight! Sooo goood!”

“Harder, Ricky! Fuck your Mommy harder!”

Our flesh came together loudly, combining with the wetness of our first union to produce a timeless, erotic symphony of sounds; the slap of thigh against thigh, small exhalations and exclamations of pleasure, the squeaking complaints of the bedframe beneath us, the unique moist suction and thrusting of man and woman, fusing together into one entity. On the heels of my first orgasm, I felt powerful, able to sustain my pace indefinitely. Never taking our eyes off one another, we increased our tempo.

We continued together, moving in lusty harmony until suddenly, Mom stiffened against me, clamping me even tighter with her thighs, as another impending climax caught her by surprise.

“Oh, Godalmighty, Ricky! Oh fuck! I’m cumming again!” she wailed. “Cumming! Ohhhh shit….so good, making Mom cum, lover!”

Flushed with her efforts, sweat standing out on her brow, she reached up to cradle my face with both hands, kissing me with unrestrained passion. Overcome with exertions, she broke her kiss to catch her breath, a gooey string of saliva connecting our lips as we regarded each other. Panting like an oxygen-starved climber, Mom gasped out “Oh God, don’t stop darling. Don’t stop. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop! Fuck me forever Ricky!”

Spurred on to a new plateau by Mom’s passion, I began to add a twisting motion to my lunges. Mom responded with a series of gasps, biting her lower lip in concentration, absorbing the new sensations as I plowed her sugar channel. She began whipping her head from side to side, moaning. “Oh, Ricky, my son! My son! Mommy’s gonna come big! Oh God, lover, take me there!”

With that, I put Mom’s legs over my shoulders, curling her into a ball beneath my pounding assault on her pussy, straining to give her every millimeter of my flesh. Slipping my hands underneath her to clutch her cheeks, I watched her face intently, savoring every little moan, every shudder, each coo of pleasure as she worked towards her climax. Then, suddenly I could feel my seed rising and felt myself swelling to the bursting point within her divine passage. With a final, desperate lunge, I buried myself to the hilt, almost pushing her off the bed with the strength of my thrust, as I fiercely pinned her ass to the mattress.

“Mom! Mom! MOM! Cumming in you! OH, MOM!” I roared.

As I ejaculated, I felt as though the very blood was boiling out of my body, as I bathed her insides with gout after gout of hot semen. The pleasure was so intense and the climax so prolonged that it bordered on exquisite pain. It almost seemed as though the force of my spending should propel her right off of my pulsating shaft.

With the first rope shooting inside her, Mom’s eyes opened as wide as I have ever seen them and her mouth formed into a silent scream of incredulous release, which gradually rose into a banshee wail of absolute ecstasy, leaving my ears ringing as her velvet walls contracted around me. I knew in that instant, with the certainty of my heart, with that orgasm, that Mom was surely now pregnant.

I think I actually passed out from the intensity of our orgasms, because the next thing I remember is her arms around me, as I lay completely innervated on her heaving chest. Rolling on to my side, I gathered her in my arms as our breathing gradually returned to normal. Tears running from her eyes, Mom shook and shuddered as I held her close, unable to speak from the intensity of her release. Gradually, her tears ebbed and she caught her breath, still in my arms, except for an occasional, endearing hiccup as I stroked her hair. Turning her face to mine, we shared a deep, tender kiss and both began to speak at once.

“Ohh, Ricky” “My God, Mom…”

Laughing, I hugged her. “You were saying, Mom?”

“Ricky, my son, as I live and breathe…” she choked with emotion again and cried a little more, then as I wiped her cheeks, she laid her head on my chest, softly murmuring. “There are no words, nothing I can say except I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!”

Tracing her cheek and jaw lightly with my fingertip, I replied, “That’s enough for me, Mom. It’s all I’ll ever need to hear from you.”

While we held each other, we seemed to alternate between Mom snuggling under my arm and her holding my head against her breasts, stroking my hair. It was sensuous and loving, more than sexual, as I rested my head against her fleshy, soft pillows. I idly toyed with the idea of taking one of her nipples into my mouth, but in the end, I let the moment pass and simply enjoyed the feelings and sensations. As I lazily soaked it all in, I realized that even though my fondest dream and greatest fantasies had finally come true, I was only bobbing on the surface of an ocean of unknown depth. The expanse and complexity of our new love was only now beginning to reveal itself and I was becoming pleasantly overwhelmed as I looked forward into our future together.


We lay together for a long time, silent, simply holding one another, luxuriating in the moment, each occasionally heaving a sigh of utter contentment. We drifted off together for a while, in each other’s arms. Some unknown time later, I woke suddenly. It was pitch black outside, the only sound a rustling of the trees around the house as a night breeze blew. The bedside alarm blinked 1:39.

What had awakened me was Mom shifting her weight in bed. She had thrown the covers back, straddling my thighs as I lay on my back. Reaching down as she centered her pelvis over mine, she swabbed my rapidly engorging cock against her lips, drawing it up and down her furrow, shuddering as it passed over her clit. She placed me at her opening and then sank down onto my cock with a long groan, taking me all the way into her depths in one searing, liquid stroke. “Oh God, Ricky! You feel so nice inside me, my love. This is where you belong, son.”

“I’ll never leave, Mom. Never. Not ever.”

Reaching under me to grasp my buttocks, she smiled warmly and pulled me up tightly and closely, whispering to me. “I’ll never let you go, darling.”

“Ahh, Mom, you are so wet, so hot! So tight, so good,” I moaned.

She leaned over to kiss me, driving her tongue into my mouth, seeking me urgently. Her hardened nipples brushed against mine as she broke our kiss, a string of saliva stretching out between our lips as she pulled away. Looking me in the eye, she sighed plaintively. “I was a fool, my son. I made you wait so long, when you should have been in my bed years ago. We were meant to be together and I couldn’t let myself see it. Please forgive me,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

I wiped her tear away with my thumb and pulled her face back to me, kissing her gently. “That’s ancient history now, Mom. The only thing that matters now is this minute and all the minutes ahead of us, gorgeous lady.”

Taking her head in my hands, I looked intently into her still moist eyes. “No more looking back, Mom. No recriminations, no regrets, okay?”

She sniffled once and then smiled. “Yes, my son…my lover.”

Lifting my head, I captured one of her nipples in my lips, sucking, caressing the hard bump with my tongue, and rolling its sister between a thumb and finger, lightly pinching. Mom arched her neck, moaning throatily before bending over to watch me suckle. “Oh god, baby. Yesss. Suck Mommy’s tits some more! That’s so good!”

I began to alternate my mouth between her nipples, very lightly running my teeth over them, sucking, tongue flicking quickly, occasionally pausing to pull as much tit flesh as I could into my mouth, sucking hard. This caused Mom to moan and arch her back, forcing her tits back to my face. As I lavished attention on her nipples, she began to slowly move up and down on my shaft, squeezing me with her sex. “My god, Mom! How do you do that? It feels wonderful, ” I groaned.

Smiling lasciviously, she sat up straight, lowering herself completely onto me. Not moving, she let her full weight rest on my hips, squeezing me with her internal muscles, hands resting on my abdomen, eyes fixed on mine. “So, you like it when Mommy milks your cock with her pussy? You like it when I squeeze your big dick this way?” she teased, her question coinciding with a strong contraction.

“Oh God, Mom…it’s heaven,” I groaned.

“Mmmmmm, Ricky, you fill me so nicely. I’ll never, ever get enough of your cock.” She began to slowly move up and down on my hardness, squeezing as she rose, leaving only my tip inside her glorious wetness, and then quickly slapping down onto my thighs. She continued this motion for many minutes, up and squeeze, down with a slap, slowly increasing her pace, now biting her lip, grunting slightly at the bottom of each stroke on my throbbing cock.

“Oh, baby. Oh! You’re so good inside me. I could do this – ahhh – forever. God, yes! Your cock feels fantastic. I don’t ever – ahh – want to stop fucking you! Ahh, yes!”

Mom quickly shifted her position to squat over me, grabbing my flanks to stabilize herself. She began to move up and down rapidly, her ass slapping firmly my thighs with each down stroke on my cock. Soon she was moving so quickly that I couldn’t even rise up to meet her with my own strokes. Just as I began to spurt inside her, she went over the edge, eyes rolling up into her head as I felt her spasm around me.

“Oh! OH! OH! Ricky! Honey! Yes! YES! YESSS!”

Suddenly Mom rose off my cock, falling forward onto her knees and elbows, her face a grimace of ecstasy, eyes rolling back in her head. Her entire body was thrusting and shaking with uncoordinated, involuntary fucking movements as she sprayed her release all over the bed and my belly and thighs, her spend mingling with mine as I continued to ejaculate into the air.

The sight was so amazing, so absolutely carnal I could barely believe what I was seeing. Then it happened. I came again! Without warning, I felt an enormous contraction in my pelvis, beginning near my ass and spreading through to my cock and balls. I tightened up so much I thought I would cramp every muscle in my body and then I sprayed a monster load all over Mom’s belly and the sheets, screaming her name again and again. The next thing I remember is Mom collapsed on top of me, both of us heaving huge, struggling breaths, our skins slippery with sweat, thighs, bellies and groins slick and oily with our combined fluids.

It was probably at least five minutes before either of us was coherent. It was all could do to hold her in my arms, kissing her as she sobbed against my chest, overwhelmed by the intensity of her orgasm. Gradually, she calmed down, eyes closed, her breathing becoming quiet and regular. I rolled on to my side, gently depositing her next to me. She opened her eyes and reached out to grab my face with both hands, kissing me passionately. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I’ve never come like that in my entire life, Ricky! My God, what you do to me, my lovely boy!

She kissed me again, more tenderly this time, running her hands through the hair at my temples. “I told you that you’d get better, didn’t I, son?”

Mom smiled and kissed me again, hard. “I don’t know if I can take much more of this, lover. If this is what you do to me after only your third time with a woman, there’s no hope – I’ll go insane with the pleasure you give me, darling.”

“Not if you fuck me to death first, Mom. Do you know you gave me a multiple orgasm? I was so turned on, I came again right away when you sprayed all over us. It was so intense, it hurt! Anyway, I can think of worse ways to depart this mortal coil.”

Mom shuddered and spoke softly and seriously. “Don’t ever talk like that, Ricky, even in jest. I don’t want to even think about what life would be like without you. If anything happened to you, I’d die instantly from a broken heart.”

Her eyes began to well up again. Scowling and brusquely wiping her tears away with the heel of her palm, she shook her finger under my nose.

“Look at what you do to me you bad b…no,” she paused. “No, not a boy any more, very definitely not a boy,” she said, talking to herself. She took in a deep breath. “Look at what you do to me, you bad, bad man. You are most certainly all grown up now and you have stolen my entire heart away, so please handle it with care.”

I smiled and kissed her back. “You do a pretty good line of sweet talking too, Mom. Sons always know that they are forever their mother’s ‘boys.’ Some guys have trouble with that, but I never will. I know you love me and that’s all that really matters. It’s okay to call me whatever you want.”

Mom laughed delightedly and tweaked my nose. “How about Englebert?”

“Whatever floats your boat, Gertrude.”

We laughed together and continued with some silly kissyface for a while, whispering ridiculous endearments to one another, our kisses gradually becoming more lingering and insistent. Mom jerked in surprise when my erection began growing again against her leg. She slipped her hand between my thighs, gently stroking my resurgent cock, eyes widening in surprise. “Sweet Jesus Ricky, already? You can’t be serious.”

Slipping my arms around her, I grinned and replied, “I can and I am, dollface. That’s what you do to your son, mother dear. I have eight years of catching up to do.”

As I was speaking, I pulled her on top of me, reaching around to cup her buttocks in both hands, squeezing and kneading. I then rolled her over to the other side of the bed onto her back. As I moved on top of her, her eyes widened and she shrieked. “Oh shit, Ricky! Let me up! Let me up!”

I quickly rolled away from her as she shot up from the bed, moving back on top of me, shivering. “Jesus, Mom! Are you okay? What’s the matter?”

She buried her head in the crook my neck, blushing in acute discomfort. “The wet spot, Ricky. It’s very cold and so…so damn huge – I’m so embarrassed!” she wailed.


“Listen to me, Mom.”

“Mom, c’mon, listen to your son, listen to your lover.”

“It’s more than okay. Don’t you know how much it excites me? Do you know how it makes me feel, that I can make you do that? It makes me so proud and horny I can hardly stand it. And you know what? I absolutely adore that you can come that way. It’s perfect, just perfect. It’s tangible proof of how much I turn you on. I would never, ever lie about something like that.”

I started to tickle her sides a little bit, making her squirm, whispering in her ear. “King size mattress pad, $90, new 1500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, $200, custom goggles with built-in wipers, $400, my Mom-lover squirting all over my mouth and face – priceless.”

Mom began shaking with laughter. She drew her head up to look at me, then thrust out her lower lip and exhaled, puffing away a lock of hair that had fallen over her face. “I love you, son,” she giggled. “You know just what to say to your neurotic old Mom.”

“And I love you, Mom. And for the last time, you are not to use the ‘o’ word around me any more, capisce? If I ever hear it again, a spanking will be in order. Now, tell you what. We’ll change the sheets quickly and grab a shower, okay?”


We stripped the mattress in short order and put on the new bedding. I led Mom into the shower and washed her gently and very thoroughly, with lots of kisses and then she returned the favor. After we crawled back under the covers, I pulled her close.

“Mom, I want to tell you about a dream I had. It happened the night we went out to celebrate my graduation.” I went on to recount my memories of the evening, watching the movie together, sitting together on the couch, and most importantly of all, her kiss. “So I went to bed and had a really har…er, difficult time falling asleep. I couldn’t shake the feeling that things had finally changed that night.”

“What was in the dream, Ricky?”

“I saw us together on a rocky beach. We were sitting on a big log that washed up on the shore and we were eating a picnic. It was very, very real, down to the sounds of seabirds and the smell of the ocean. We were holding hands, watching four children play by the surf. They were ours, Mom, all of them. There was no doubt, no question. It just was. Three girls and a boy.”

” ‘I have been versed in the reasonings of men, but Fate is stronger than anything I have known,’ ” Mom whispered.

“What’s that, Mom?”

“Benefits of a classical education, Ricky. That’s Euripides.” She shivered and snuggled closely into my arms. “I had a dream also,” she said hesitantly. “It was the night of July 4th. I think I went to bed that night whispering in the tiniest voice to my secret heart that we were going to become lovers. I was still frightened out of my mind and very unsure. I was trying really hard to keep some control of the pace of things, as if that would somehow make it easier to make that final decision,” she chuckled wryly. “It was still incredibly difficult. Do you know I went to your room that night?”

“You did?!” I exclaimed incredulously.

“I was so excited I could barely lie down. I ‘stirred the honey pot” twice, as you are so fond of saying, but I just couldn’t relax. I came in around 2 am. I must have stood at the foot of your bed, watching you sleep for at least fifteen minutes. I just couldn’t find the courage to climb under the covers with you. In the end, I went back to my room and had a good cry over my indecision and lack of resolve and then fell asleep.”

“Wow, and I thought I was having a tough time. I have to tell you Mom, I don’t know if I’m just your typical oblivious male, or you’re a great poker player, but I had no idea. You seemed so poised, so confident through everything, right up to the day you left for Vancouver…”

“Well, as I said, I had my own dream. After I cried myself to sleep, you came into my room, naked. You kissed me all over, dried my tears and held me and said, ‘It’s time, Jenny. I’m here for you. I will always be here for you.’ Then you made love to me. You were gentle, tender and comforting and then you absolutely, completely and utterly fucked the shit out of me. Every possible thing a man and woman can do together, we did. I had a screaming orgasm that woke me up, and when I did wake up, I was coming for real.”

“I felt so good after that climax, Ricky, it was unbelievable. I was relaxed, I was as sated as if we’d really done it. If I hadn’t been such a stupid, stubborn fool, if I had had my wits about me then, I would have realized that was my heart telling me it was okay, that we were going to be good together and that things would work out. Eventually they did, but not before we nearly blew it all up.”

“Well, now you know how I held onto my sanity through the summer, Mom. My dream was a life preserver. It gave me hope for our future.”

“And here we are, son. Fate is strong for us.” She rolled back on top of me, kissing me deeply. “Now, we need to do something about populating your dream beach.”

So we did. We made love one more time, slowly, quietly, this time our climaxes a sweet, gentle release, putting our doubts and fears behind us once and for all. We slept deeply and dreamlessly.


I swam back to consciousness with golden sunlight streaming through the half open bedroom window, curtains lightly stirring in the morning breeze. The quiet buzz of a nearby lawnmower filtered through my thoughts and I could faintly smell fresh cut grass on the breeze. Our neighborhood was waking up. The quintessentially normal sights, sounds and smells of the outside world perversely reinforced my own state of mind.

Weeds still were being pulled, newspapers delivered and garbage put out, but Mom and I were together at last! The world went on its merry, oblivious way, but now we were lovers! It was delicious beyond words that I could see Gordy Townsend across the backyard fence on his John Deere and he had no idea that he was now living next door to a real, honest to God motherfucker!

I was on my side, facing Mom, her thigh thrown over mine. She was breathing deeply and slowly, a faint smile on her lips, still fully in slumber. Her hair was sexily disarrayed, bangs spilling carelessly over her forehead, her lips slightly parted, appearing totally at peace. For a long while I simply looked at her, taking in every detail, from the tiny freckles on her chest to the fine laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, the faintest hint of delicate blonde hairs on her upper lip and the rhythmic flare of her nostrils as she inhaled and exhaled. God, she was so beautiful, I could hardly stand it. I didn’t think it was possible to love her any more than I already did, but now, in the aftermath of our first incestuous couplings, I knew in my very bones that she fully and freely owned me, body and soul, now and forever.

Corporeal necessity eventually raised its ugly head, interrupting my devoted thoughts in the form of a very full bladder and monstrous morning wood. Very slowly and carefully, I disengaged from Mom, gently turning her on to her back as I prepared to get up. She stirred slightly, mumbling my name and then slipped back into sleep.

Finishing my business in the bathroom with some difficulty, I walked quietly back to the bed, standing at its foot, watching Mom, now flat on her back with her legs open, her forearm cast across her forehead and eyes. The slow movement of her perfectly proportioned breasts mesmerized me as she breathed in and out. Looking downward, I could see her sex was still moist with our combined fluids, the lips slightly swollen, probably from the evening’s tender abuse and her own residual arousal. Her magnificent thatch was slightly crusted with our previous evening’s spendings. I knew then exactly how I wanted her to awaken to the first day of our new life.

Lowering myself carefully onto the mattress, I inched my way up between her legs. Pausing briefly, I inhaled the intoxicating aroma of our evening’s passion and then bent to my task. Slowly and deliberately, I began to lick around her labia and her mons, reveling in the taste of our mingled flavors as I cleansed every visible inch of her delta. Gradually centering my attentions to her opening, I delved deeply and firmly. Still in twilight, she murmured something unintelligible under her breath, stretching slightly, and then slowly arched her pelvis in response, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Increasing the intensity and frequency of my ministrations, I began to alternate between her opening and pearl of pleasure, lightly sucking and swirling my tongue over her hood, occasionally covering as much of her sex as I could with my mouth, sucking strongly. She stirred again, more vigorously and purposefully this time, rubbing herself against my face, hands now reaching down to entwine her fingers in my hair.

Trailing her hands down to caress my ears and temples, she awoke fully. “Oh, God, lover. What a way to wake up,” she moaned.

Grasping her thighs in my hands, I pushed them up on to her abdomen, widening my access to her pussy. Concentrating my attentions on her hood, I began to tease with the tip of my tongue, alternating between light vibrations and firm presses until her clit began to emerge.

“Oh, that’s heavenly, Ricky. Lick mommy some more.”

Increasing my pace, I felt Mom’s fingers tighten in my hair, pulling me strongly inward. She began to thrash her head from side to side, thrusting herself against my tongue.

“Ah, so good darling. So good, yes,” she murmured. Her words slowly faded into an escalating series of sighs and groans and her hands began to clench tightly in my hair as she pulled my face fiercely into her sex.

Abruptly, I was saturated with her nectar as she thrashed against my lips and nose. Slowly, reluctantly, she relinquished her grip on my hair, hands sliding down to stroke my face as she sighed in her ecstasy. The taste and bouquet of her release was exquisite, an intoxicating elixir of my previous presence, her musk, sweet saltiness and a piquant sharpness, which was totally addicting to me. I felt as though I was mainlining the distilled essence of love and lust.

Planting a final kiss and tongue caress on the object of my desire, I moved to her side, taking her into my arms and kissing her tenderly.

“Love you so much, Mom.”

“Love you back, sweet son. My God, how on earth did you acquire such a wicked tongue? You fly me to the moon every single time you eat me – it’s just incredible.”

“Do you really want to know? I’ll tell you if you want.”

“Hmmmm, sounds like I’m sailing in dangerous waters, Ricky. Is there something you don’t want me to know?”

“No way, Mom. No secrets between us, ever. Anything you want to ask, I’ll answer.”

She paused in thought for a few moments, appearing to consider her words. “Last night, you said it was your first time…and yet… and yet, you have the most fantastic tongue and fingers I’ve ever felt. You know exactly how to send me right over the edge.”

“Well, Mom, I guess I have a little confessing to do, but maybe not in the way you think. When I used to jerk off watching my mom-porn…”

“Ricky! Mom-porn?!”

I laughed sheepishly. “Yeah, Mom-porn. I had gigabytes of it. If it was on the web, involved an older woman and a younger man and if the woman looked at all like you, I had it. Anyway, I didn’t just beat off. I studied, especially the homemade, amateur stuff. I paid attention to what got those women off, what made them moan the loudest and come the hardest. I always imagined it was me making you feel that good, making you come. Every time I jerked off, in my mind I wasn’t coming unless you were too.”

“I had no idea I was sleeping with a scholar of mother fucking. I guess I have to give you an ‘A’ for that homework assignment.”

“I’m so glad my ‘research’ ended up having real world applications, Mom.”

Stroking her hand along my arm and gliding over my chest, she raised gooseflesh. “So, did you have a favorite, a number one best fantasy video?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Can I see it, Ricky?”

“Sure, if you really want to.”

“Go get your laptop and we’ll watch it here, together.”

I padded back to my bedroom, disinterred the infamous flash drive from my closet and grabbed the laptop. We laid down next to one another on our stomachs, computer in front of us, my arm around Mom’s shoulder, hers around my waist, idly wandering, occasionally tracing the curve of my ass cheeks.

Giggling, she squeezed my butt. “I can’t believe I’m sitting in bed naked with my son, watching porn!”

“I can’t believe I just spent the last twelve hours making love with my mother, doing my best to get her pregnant.”

Mom gave me an affectionate hug and kissed my cheek, chuckling, “Well, there is that, isn’t there? It does tend to put watching smut in perspective, I suppose.”

I found the video easily and launched it. Mom leaned forward, attention raptly focused on the screen, squeezing my waist in anticipation.

The movie began with shaky camera movements, the scene madly sweeping around from floor to ceiling, moving in and out of focus as the light went from near pitch black to massively blown out. Eventually, the scene stopped shaking, the camera finally being placed on a stable surface.

The setting was what appeared to be a stereotypical suburban bedroom, a queen size bed with a garish, colorful quilt and duvet and straight-from-Ikea bedframe, headboard and dressers. By the furnishings, it seemed that the video was probably five to ten years in the past. The room was suffused with soft, low light, filtered through thin, gauzy, slightly dingy, partially drawn curtains.

A woman’s face appeared briefly, peering into the lens. Minor adjustments to the camera position were made, centering it on the bed. The woman stepped away briefly, hands on hips as she contemplated the camera and she then sat on the edge of the bed, beckoning to someone out of view.

She was a pleasant-looking lady, with shoulder length, glossy black hair and regular, ordinary facial features. She was by no means beautiful, but possessed a certain conventional, soccer-mom cuteness. Underneath her white blouse and garish blue sweatpants, it could be seen that her figure was fairly average, if somewhat overweight. She could probably have stood to loose ten or fifteen pounds, but most of the extra weight she carried was concentrated in a prominent, jutting, round ass with wide hips. Her breasts were fairly generous and sagged somewhat. They were encased in a slightly loose fitting, plain white bra, completely practical and functional in its appearance beneath her blouse. Her stomach demonstrated the slight typical middle age pooch that comes with the cruel march of time and nearly inevitable expansion of the waistline.

The video flickered and stuttered briefly and a title flashed across the screen for about ten seconds, obviously added with cut-rate video editing software. It read “My Son Rick and Me.”

Mom gasped briefly on seeing title, turning to look at me intently. “Fuel for the fire,” she murmured, as if to herself.

Subsequently, a young man appeared on the screen, wearing a pair of loose-fitting shorts and a garish tank top, obviously obtained at some “family oriented” amusement park. His face bore a striking resemblance to the woman, showing the same somewhat rounded cheeks, high forehead and full lips. He was whipcord lean, but not particularly well developed. His physique was more distance runner than anything else, with slim, well-defined muscles and little, if any visible body fat. He had almost no body hair, making it difficult to estimate his age, which could have been anywhere between sixteen and twenty-six.

As the boy stepped to the side of the woman, she stood and melted into his arms, her own circling around his shoulders as they shared a deep, lingering kiss.

I was sudden struck by how I was perceiving the video, compared to the last time I had seen it, which was several months ago. Before, it was my “go to” fantasy, fueling my own thoughts and desires about Mom and me. Previously, I had viewed it with a feeling of envious excitement, only able to dimly imagine what the lucky son might be experiencing. Now though, I found that I was not anticipating the actual act of coupling, but raptly watching the emotional interplay between lovers, mother and son. I was now on the other side of the great divide, an insider at last. I found their initial, passionate kiss as deeply arousing as any previous memory of what was to follow.

Up to this point, the soundtrack had been nondescript, sharp, banging noises as the camera was adjusted and the faint, unintelligible mutterings of a television in the background, probably in another room. The woman spoke the first words: “I missed you baby. We don’t have much time. I need you so much.”

The young man then spoke, his voice surprisingly deep for someone with such a narrow frame. “I hate sneaking like this. We never have enough time together.”

“I know baby, I know.”

The woman stepped back, placing her hands on her partner’s hips, quickly stripping his shirt off over his head. She ran her hands over his chest and then back around his shoulders again, drawing him close for another passionate kiss. The boy’s hands ran over the woman’s back, drifting down to clutch her ass cheeks. She moaned into his mouth, hands dropping to his waist, fumbling at the waistband of his pants. She untied a drawstring and pushed the shorts to his ankles, allowing an enormous cock to spring free. It was hard to gauge its size in the low lighting of the room, but the woman’s small hand did not fit all the way around its girth. It was probably around nine inches in length, with an angry, almost lime-sized purple helmet, the shaft girded around with a network of ropy, thick veins. Mom sucked her breath in sharply when she saw it.

The young man moaned as the woman stroked him, his own hands roughly pushing her sweatpants down to her knees, exposing a pair of sensible, pale blue, nylon granny panties. An unruly thicket of curly, black pubic hair was resident underneath the front panel and the gusset already showed obvious, damp evidence of the woman’s excitement.

As the woman’s stroking became more insistent, the boy’s hand palmed the gusset of her panties, two long, slim fingers finding their way inside her sheath. The woman gasped and visibly shuddered as his hand found its target, moving in an out, a strangled “Oh, God!” escaping her lips.

Falling to the bed together, the young man quickly unbuttoned the woman’s blouse, exposing her bra. He popped the front clasp, freeing her tear-drop shaped breasts. Pancaked against her recumbent chest, they sagged slightly to the side, displaying silver dollar sized chocolate brown areolae and hard, erect nipples which appeared to be almost three quarters of an inch long. He quickly bent his head to her chest, capturing one of the nipples in his mouth, the sound of his suckling clearly heard in the soundtrack. The woman sighed loudly, cradling his head against her with one hand, stroking his hair.

As the boy continued his worship of the woman’s breasts, her other hand was busy between his legs, continuing to stroke his shaft of pink granite, movements becoming more and more urgent. Her hoarse whisper was barely picked up by the camera microphone, her voice slightly blurry, tantalizingly indistinct.

“I need you inside me, baby. I need you inside me now!”

When he rolled on top her, the woman spread her legs wide, guiding his massive pole into her vagina. As he slowly pressed his flesh home, spreading her labia widely, the woman groaned loudly, her legs coming up to hook the small of his back, arms encircling his lean shoulders.

“Ahhhhh, Jesus, that’s so good, baby, so fucking big!”

Glancing to my side to observe Mom, I could see she was totally mesmerized by the scene, eyes hooded with excitement, lips slightly parted. She was squirming slightly on the mattress, obviously aroused.

Returning my attention to the computer screen, I could see the pace of their coupling had accelerated, as the man-boy hammered his flesh into the woman below him. Inarticulate groans merged with the protestations of the bed frame as they approached the zenith of their fuck, the young man now fiercely clutching the woman’s buttocks as he drove towards his peak. Abruptly, he stiffened with a guttural, drawn-out groan, locking his pelvis against his partner, straining forward into her until cords stood out of his neck.

As he released within her, the woman came as well, hands scrabbling against his back as she shrieked. “Oh god, yes! Oh God baby! Fuck me! Fuck me! Yesss! Yessss! Yessssssssss!”

As he collapsed on to her chest, the woman stroked the young man’s back, neck and hair, whispering quiet endearments softly, over and over again. The words could not be clearly heard. They then rolled to their sides, facing one another, touching each other’s faces, kissing.

I paused the video at that point, looking over to Mom. “Well, there it is.”

“Dear God Ricky, I’ve never seen anything like that in my entire life,” she whispered, almost reverentially, shuddering. “It’s so plain, but so honest and real. Neither of them is especially good looking, but it’s still one of the most erotic things I’ve ever watched.”

“I haven’t shown you the best part, Mom, what makes it my favorite.”

“Jesus, there’s more?”

“Just a little, bit. Here, let’s watch.”

I restarted the video, again showing the woman and her young lover lying side by side. They arose from the bed, standing at its foot, sharing a long, warm embrace and another extended kiss. Smiling softly, the young man held the woman out to arm’s length looking down at her, speaking gently but clearly.

“I love you so much, Mom.”

“I love you too, Rick.”

As they joined hands and walked off camera, the mother’s voice could be heard just above the background noises of the house.

“We have time for a quick shower before your sister gets home from band practice. Then I’ve got to make dinner for your father.”

The voices began to fade as they moved farther away from the camera, but her son could be heard again briefly before their conversation was drowned out by the sound of a flushing toilet.

“Do you think it happened this time?”

“I hope so, baby.” The mother then laughed loudly, “God, you shot enough cum in me, but I just don’t know sweetheart – I’ll get an EPT in a couple weeks and…”

At that point the screen flashed “low batt” and the video stopped.

Mom’s arm tightened around my waist and she shuddered, slightly grinding her pelvis against the mattress.

“Dear God, that was incredible. I’m so damn wet, I can’t believe it.”

“Powerful stuff, isn’t it?”

“How on earth did you find that thing?”

“I first heard a rumor about the video on an incest forum the summer before my junior year in high school. Once I was able to confirm it actually existed, it became an obsession. It took me three and a half years to track it down. I ended up having to pay a hundred bucks to join a private blog to get access to it. Once I had it, I lost interest in about ninety percent of the rest of my ‘collection.’ I kept a few other videos that I was pretty sure were authentic and a few regular and role-playing ones where the woman looked a lot like you, but that was basically it for me.”

Mom was still stunned, shaking her head in amazement.

“I can’t believe that it was the mother who recorded everything! She must have been totally out of her mind, completely crazy, risking everything like that.”

“I know, Mom, but that’s part of what makes it so arousing, so intense, clearly seeing the chances they’re taking, being together – and trying to have a baby too, that’s just so unbelievable, totally over the top. Even, now it still gets to me. I often wonder what happened to them,” I added softly.

“It’s scary too, Ricky. Can you imagine us in a similar circumstance?” She leaned in to kiss me, giving me a big hug. “We’re so lucky, darling, not having to worry about any of those complications, possibly destroying an entire family. Obsession can be a very dangerous thing.”

“In my weaker moments, I sometimes thought about letting you ‘discover’ that video clip.”

“But you didn’t,” she said, a question in her voice.

“Nope. That movie is so intense, it just seemed too risky. I thought it would have either made you jump my bones in a minute flat or hand me my walking papers. I wasn’t prepared to risk that, hurting you that way. It’s why I kept all of that stuff secret. Anyway, you already knew how I felt about you, ever since that birthday dinner when I was fifteen.”

Mom chuckled and kissed my cheek, ruffling my hair in the usual way saying, “You’ve always been a glass of water to me, Ricky.”

Rolling on to her back, she put her hands behind her head, continuing, “I suppose that I knew that you were still carrying a torch for me, even while you were dating Grace and during college. I didn’t want to press you on it, since you seemed to have some semblance of a sex life during that time. I guess I wasn’t prepared to deal with an honest answer from you.”

“What do you think you would have done, if I had let you ‘discover’ that video?”

“God Ricky, I just don’t know. It certainly would have told me about your feelings pretty clearly,” she said with a laugh. Pausing to reflect a moment, she added softly, “I think it would have turned me on – a lot. I think I would have pretended to not have seen it and then made a copy for my private enjoyment. Where it would have gone from there is anybody’s guess.”

“I think it would have forced me to bring my own feelings and desires out of the dark and to take a hard look at them. Even so, considering how you nearly walked out of my life before I came to my senses, it’s impossible to know if I would have had the courage to take any bold steps to bring you into my bed. Sometimes I’m too cautious for my own good.”

I teased her just a little bit, taking her hand and kissing it.

“But once you do make up your mind, its take no prisoners time, for sure.”

“As you said last night, lover-son, ‘no regrets, no looking back.’”

“And I meant it. There are far too many wonderful things to look forward to than to waste time thinking about ‘coulda, shoulda, woulda’.”

I paused, thinking as another question occurred to me. I turned to Mom, blushing slightly. She must have sensed my hesitation, as always attuned to the slightest change in my emotions.

“What is it, darling?”

“Is it okay to ask you about, well, your past?”

She laughed merrily, taking both of my hands in hers and kissing me. “Of course, sweetheart. ‘No secrets’ applies to me, just as much as you. We’re a real couple, besides being son and mother. What do you want to know?”

“Did you have any boyfriends or lovers while I was growing up?”

“I had a few brief affairs while you were still in elementary and middle school, but nothing serious. I’m a little ashamed to say that they were mostly with married men.”

“Why, ashamed Mom? Did you see yourself as a home wrecker or something?”

“No, not really. For sure, I wasn’t out to steal another woman’s husband or boyfriend. I guess I was being selfish. I didn’t want the burden of trying to establish or grow an adult relationship while I was raising you. I suppose I was selfishly scratching my own itches. Married guys don’t want complications or entanglements either, so that was Jake with me. It was usually stolen lunch hours and an occasional evening ‘working late,’ but never with anyone I had a professional connection with. I may be an incestuous cum slut, but I still have some standards,” she laughed.

“But you said after middle school you didn’t see anyone.”

It was then Mom’s turn to be pensive. She thought for a long while before she spoke very quietly and hesitantly, “I don’t believe I ever thought about it overtly, but in retrospect, I think I was subconsciously responding to the growing presence of a certain handsome young fella. I didn’t (or maybe wouldn’t) see it at first, but you were becoming the man in my life. Silly, stubborn woman that I am, it took me many years to finally be honest with myself on that score.” She chuckled wryly, “Long story short, beginning around the time you were fourteen, I started wearing out toys for my ‘stress relief’.”

“Jesus, Mom! No sex for eight years? How did you not go crazy?”

“Just because I didn’t have sex with a man, doesn’t mean there weren’t any ‘big O’s’ for dear old Mom, kiddo. There were a lot of good things happening during that time, don’t forget. My career was blossoming and I was watching my handsome son growing into a fine young man. Those things meant a lot to me. At the time, it was enough to compensate for other areas of my life that were lacking.”

Reading my mind as usual, she smiled and gave my cock a gentle squeeze. “Just so we’re clear on this, my fine incestuous son, NOBODY has ever fucked me as well as you do. The past twelve hours have been the best sex of my entire life.”

“You’re making my heads swell, Mom,” I blushed with pride.

She let out a long, hard laugh, shaking with mirth. Rolling on top of me, she showered my face with kisses, lightly grinding her pelvis against me. “You make me feel so lucky and so loved, Ricky. You’re my perfect man – smart, romantic, talented, a great sense of humor and a cock that doesn’t quit. What more could a woman want?”

“Someone who remembers to put the toilet seat down?”

“Your imperfections simply make you all the more adorable, dear boy. Now,” she said decisively, “I believe we were originally talking about how you came to be such an amazing eater of pussy.”

“Do you want the entire story, or the Cliff Notes version?”

“Oh, the whole cloth of it, by all means. I’m not going anywhere, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Mom said, settling herself contentedly under my arm.

“Well, dearest mother, as I’m sure you know, I haven’t been a monk in college or high school, but you have to understand the way I feel, the way I felt about you before. You already know I’ve lusted after you since I could make wood, but I’ve been truly, hopelessly, head over heels in love with you since I was fifteen. I had my own drives and physical needs, but even when I was dating or seeing girls on a steady basis, I knew in my heart of hearts that you were my woman, and that no one else could hold a candle to you. I was basically biding my time, hoping for a miracle that would bring us together.”

“It’s no miracle, son. Surely you don’t believe that I just all of a sudden began to desire you in the last few months?”

“I think I’ve been sensing you have had…other feelings for me for longer than that, maybe since the accident?”

“Well…close enough. I knew I was beginning to love you in a way a mother shouldn’t for quite some time, but it’s taken a long, painful journey to come to grips with it. The growing attraction I had for you, the intensity of those emotions was absolutely terrifying to me. Even as I was struggling with my own feelings, I was so worried about you, as your Mom. In my own heart, I needed to know, needed to know that we were going to last, but more importantly, that our coming together wouldn’t hurt you in any way. On one level, I suppose I was being selfish, because I wanted you…for all time. I wasn’t willing to settle for anything less.”

With that statement, I began to tear up a little. I hugged her tightly and said “So maybe you can understand a little how things were for me in high school and college. I got to know some really great girls and did enjoy myself a lot, but in the end, I was marking time, learning how to please a woman, saving myself for the lady I really wanted – it was that important to me.”

Mom sighed and snuggled under my chin, holding me tightly. “You’re even more romantic than I am, son. I love you so very much for that quality. It makes everything feel like, well, like destiny. I’m so happy now, I could shout,” she declared. “I want to throw open that window and scream at the top of my lungs ‘I love my son! I love fucking him! I want to have his baby!’ That’s how you make me feel, lover-son.”

Very seriously, I replied, “I feel exactly the same about you, Mom. I’m so happy I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s like, we know what the other wants and is thinking without even having to say anything. I can’t imagine being so close to anyone else.” Hugging her tightly to me, I said, “I suppose it’s strange and terribly perverse, but when I think about us being together, I think of a verse from the Bible, of all things.”

Nestling her lips next to my ear, she whispered “Isaiah 40:31…mount up with wings as eagles…”

I shivered at her prescience. “Beautiful lady, it seems you have all of me – heart, soul, body and now my very thoughts.”

Mom kissed me passionately, running her fingers through my hair. “And I’ll keep and treasure them forever, my beautiful husband-son!”

Abruptly, she switched gears from devoted lover to mischievous minx. “But, be that as it may, you’ve still got some ‘splainin’ to do, Ricky. I haven’t finished my cross-examination yet,” she teased.

Placing my hand on her breast, I rubbed her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, making her moan. “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me titty.”

“Don’t distract me from my purpose, you lecherous young man! I have questions that require answers.”

“Ask away, mother dear.”

“Who was the first girl you made out with?”

“You sure you’re not going to get upset or jealous?”

“What could I possibly get jealous about? Momma is going to have your wonderful cock the rest of her life.”

“The first one was Grace Kim, Mom. We started kissing, you know, actually making out on our third date. And to anticipate your next question, she was the first girl who let me feel her breasts. That happened under the bleachers after homecoming in my sophomore year.”

“I thought so. What about third base?”

“Again, Grace. That was Fourth of July weekend, summer after my sophomore year. We were making out by the bandstand next to Lake Chapman and things just sort of…happened. It was sort of awkward – she liked it, but I didn’t know much about what I was doing. I eventually made her come, by trial and error, mostly and then she rubbed me off through my jeans.”

“Was she the first one to touch your cock?” she asked a bit enviously.

“Mom, I thought you said weren’t going to get upset!” I said with concern. “Should I stop?”

Smiling sheepishly, she blushed. “Sorry, Ricky. I’m being silly, I know. I just can’t help it.”

Smiling reassuringly, I took her hand and placed it over my groin. “You said it yourself already, mom, it’s all yours, only yours. Nobody else is going to touch it ever again.”

“Anyway, yes, it was Grace,” I continued. “That was a few weeks later. We came back to the house while you, Gramps and Nana went to that Broadway show. We were nervous at first, but it was pretty exciting. You know, Mom, if it weren’t for you, I might still be seeing her. She reminded me a lot of you – it’s probably why I was attracted to her in the first place. I liked her because she was so honest and straightforward. She always told me what was on her mind. She also was really open about things like how she wanted to be touched, stuff like that. So…in a way she was my first teacher.”

“I’m glad you were with her, Ricky. I always liked her very much, and you know how picky I am.”

“Thanks, Mom. We never got much beyond touching each other with our clothes on. I don’t think either of us were ready for anything more.”

While we were dissecting my previous so-called sex life, Mom was idly running her hands over my chest, occasionally pausing to rub my nipples, gradually widening the circle of her explorations to my abdomen. It was starting to drive me bananas. She then grasped my cock, gently squeezing it to life.

“Who was the first girl to wrap her lips around this wonderful piece of meat?” she asked with an evil grin.

“That would be Amanda Jennings, from up the street.”

“Betty and Harold’s daughter? I don’t believe it!”

“Yah. It was about a year after Gramps and Nana passed. Betty knew I was pretty good at keeping our pool working, and they were having some problems with theirs, so she asked me to check out a couple of things. Anyway, Amanda was visiting from college, I was there, she liked my looks and was feeling sorry for me, you know, about Gramps and Nana. One thing led to another and she ended up doing me in the cabaña. I think it might have gone farther, but Betty came home then, so we stopped. It’s funny though. I enjoyed it, and after all, Amanda is a beautiful girl, but in the end, I felt guilty. I didn’t like the sympathy aspect of it. It ended up detracting from what was otherwise pretty amazing. Still, it was a generous thing she did and I guess I appreciate the spirit in which it was offered, looking back on it.”

“Was she any good?”

“Mom, when you’re that age, any blow job is a great blow job,” I laughed.

“Truer words were never spoken, young man.”

As she continued to stroke my cock, she rubbed her thumb over the head, moistening it with my precum. I shuddered at her touch.

“Now we come to the crux of matters, son-lover. To whom do I owe the thanks for your incredibly educated tongue?”

“That would be my English professor at the U, Cassandra Ellis.”

Mom was silent for a long time. “Ah, I just knew it – it had to be an older woman…I think I saw her once Ricky, some freshman orientation or something else I went to with you. In her late forties, strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, about my height, trim figure…like me, son. Like me. I was never far from your thoughts, was I?”

“Hardly ever, Mom,” I agreed quietly.

“As much as we shared in looks, weren’t you tempted to fuck her?”

“Oh God, yes, more than you know. You have to understand though. I was very up front with her, that I was saving myself for someone special. We were very attracted to each other, but I think she truly understood my romantic outlook. So, we carried on in other ways, which we both enjoyed. She was a fun, adventurous person and very warm and patient. I learned a lot from her. We stopped seeing each other just over a year ago.”

“Why did you stop seeing her?”

“Well, actually, she broke it off. The last time we were together at her apartment, I was in a rush to get home. I dropped my wallet on the way out and didn’t realize it. I was in the lobby when I discovered it wasn’t on me and had to go back up to get it.”

“She was waiting for me. She told me that she didn’t intend to pry, but that the thing had fallen open when I dropped it. She saw your picture. When she handed it back to me she said that I had paid her the very highest compliment, which she would always cherish, but that she didn’t have any desire to ‘be that particular second fiddle.’ As I was leaving, she said something interesting, though.”

“What was that?”

“I may not have the words exactly right, but they really stuck with me. She said, ‘You’ve chosen to fly perilously close to the sun, my young Icarus. You’re a very sweet young man and I hope you don’t get burned. You’ve chosen a path that can only yield transcendent love or unbearable pain. I wish you luck.’ Something like that,” I concluded. “She was right, too. I experienced that pain when you went off to Vancouver, but in the end, we gambled and won.”

“A perceptive woman with excellent taste in young men, I believe. But I do have one more question. This business of playing with my bottom, with you hands and tongue, did she teach you this?”

“No, she didn’t. That’s for you only, Mom. It’s too intimate, too special to share with anyone except your true love. I’ve never done those things with anybody else. It’s just for us.”

“Did you use to, uh, masturbate thinking about doing those things with me?”

“Mom, anything and everything a man and woman can do together, I’ve fantasized about doing with you. Touching and eating you back there, it’s been a particular turn on for me for a long time. I think it’s because it’s so incredibly intimate. Oh, and naughty too,” I grinned.

Mom hugged me tightly. “I’m so glad to hear that, Ricky. It makes me feel unique and especially well-loved.”

“I could never do anything less, Mom. Now, will the dragon lady release me from my interrogation?”

“Why? Are you going somewhere?”

“I’m exactly where I belong, next to you in our bed. However,” I said, nodding towards my groin, “You’ve started something that you had better finish. The natives may get restless otherwise.”

“I see. And how do you propose that we accomplish this task?”

“I’m easy to please. You can decide.”

“In that case, I think Mommy will suck you off. I want some of your sweet cum for breakfast.”

With that, Mom scooted down between my legs and took me into her mouth, swirling her tongue, moving her hands sensuously on my shaft. I went from semi hard to clawing the sheets in less than a minute as she worked her magic on me, slowly bringing me to the edge of ecstasy many times, only to squeeze me back from the brink, teasing me unmercifully. When she finally allowed my release, I felt like the top of my head would blow off. I must have shot half a dozen huge, sticky ropes into Mom’s eager mouth, not one drop of which was lost.

When she finished me, I lay totally limp, with an occasional involuntary twitch shaking my frame, rendered entirely speechless. Curling up next to me, Mom giggled.

“Mmmmm, breakfast of champions.”

“Jesus,” I croaked hoarsely.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of your taste, lover. I could suck on your cock and slurp your cum all day long.”


“A man of few words, are you?” she teased.

“Mmmmm. Sorry, melted brain. Mom, you are incredible, you do me so well…I don’t know what it is, but you know exactly how to drive me insane. If you get any better at sucking me off, I’m gonna need a defibrillator.”

“We can put it on the shelf next to my fire extinguisher.”

“Hah! You make me laugh, pretty lady. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

“Thank you, kind sir.”

I inquired after breakfast. Mom owned to being pretty hungry, but didn’t really want to leave the bed. I felt the same way, so we just lay together and cuddled, exchanging caresses and kisses. And we talked. We talked and we talked, like we never had before. All of our hopes, wishes and dreams we laid out to each other, fully blending our lives together as a couple, looking to our shared future.

Finally, our long-empty stomachs drove us from the bed. I made Mom her favorite – my breakfast slumgullion, a mix of scrambled eggs, sautéed ground beef, crumbled bacon, sweet onions, cheddar cheese, cilantro and Tabasco, served with large hunks of toasted sourdough. We gorged ourselves, washing down our food with oversized mugs of hot latte.

Conversation was at a minimum, but we didn’t need any. A glance, a smile, a nod or casual brush of hand against arm served to speak volumes as we recharged ourselves. As we wound towards the finish of our meal, our shared glances became more intent, the touches more intimate, sensuous and lingering. When I made to clean up our dishes, Mom simply pulled me away from the sink, took my hand in hers and led me towards our bedroom.

We didn’t emerge until the dark of evening, once again driven from our incestuous embraces by absolute fatigue, well-fucked soreness and raging hunger. We baked potatoes, pan fried a couple of strip steaks and had a green salad, accompanied by a nice Sangiovese, which we demolished in short order before heading once again to our lover’s lair.


Sunday dawned (as much as you can call waking up at 11:00 am dawning) to find us still entwined, sheets damp and our bodies still slightly sweaty. I stretched and winced, my shoulders and neck stiff. Mom stirred and rolled over into my arms, groaning slightly.

“Morning, lover. How’s my hard-working, incestuous son today?”

“Wonderful, momma-love. Just a little sore. I think I’m discovering a few under-utilized muscle groups today.”

“You and me both. I feel wonderfully tender and slightly abused.”

I tenderly traced my finger along her nose and cheek, brushing her hair back over her ear.

“I do recall some sort of event happening around 2 am. I seem to remember that I could hear a lady screaming ‘Harder! Do me harder!’ I also remember I was happy to oblige.”

“Hmmmphh!” Mom huffed, trying to look severe, but ultimately failing, her stern expression, slowly replaced with a lopsided grin and the beginnings of a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“A true gentleman always tries to accommodate his lady’s wishes.”

“A true gentleman doesn’t slap his mother’s bottom while he’s fucking her doggie-style.”

I dissolved in laughter. “Mom, I don’t know if I’ll ever measure your true depths. You’re definitely more woman than any one man could handle. We’ve unleashed a monster here.”

“I reserve my best for the man I love.”

“I’m honored. I do seem to remember that you did enjoy your little spanking, though.”

“God help me, yes,” she blushed. “I have never let myself go like that. You’re a very bad influence, young man, turning your mother into a son-cock-crazed whore.” She laughed and kissed me soundly, murmuring, “I’m going to have a wonderful time going to hell with you, boy. We are soooooo bad!”

“Mom!” I protested. “I refuse to believe that. What’s happened between us, it’s meant to be, it’s right, it’s true and it’s love. Love is never bad.”

“I was being facetious, Ricky. I believe in us too. It’s difficult to adjust to the idea of heaven on earth, that’s all.”

“I could listen to your sweet words all day, Mom, but I do have some thoughts about our schedule.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Nurse Mommy did a great job taking care of her poor son’s terrible swellings this past week, but now Dr. Ricky has a prescription for his patient.”

“I see. Are you going to use your thermometer to take my temperature?”

“I already know your temperature, gorgeous. It’s smokin’ hot. We might have to check it again later this afternoon, but until then, I have a different treatment plan.”

“First, we’re going to have a long shower, as hot as you can stand, and this time I mean temperature. I’ll wash your hair and scrub you from eyebrows to toenails. Of course, I may pause along the way occasionally to make sure that every part of my Mommy is squeaky clean.”

“Cleanliness is next to godliness, they say.”

“We’re in agreement on that. Breakfast will be next after the shower. We’ll toast those leftover baguettes and cut up some fresh fruit. We will then exit, food in hand, to the poolside, where we will proceed to slather each other with tanning oil and baste in the sun the rest of the day. As an added inducement, I’ll make a pitcher of Bloody Marias as well.”

“I always follow sound medical advice.”

“Let’s get started then.”


While we were gathering things up to head out to the pool, the phone rang.

“You go ahead and get things set up, Ricky. I’ll get this.”


Mom covered the receiver with her hand and tuned to me, slightly surprised. “It’s Marcia.”

“Hello, Marcia. It’s nice to hear from you. Yes, we’re fine. Thank you for the other night, by the way. It was very unexpected and very kind of you. I would have gotten back in touch with you sooner, but well, we got busy…”

Mom was actually blushing like a schoolgirl as she said this, her voice becoming endearingly hesitant.

“No, nothing special planned today. We’re planning to lie out by the pool and relax, actually. Yes, we’re fine, splendid actually. Okay. Why don’t you come over in an hour or so. We’ll see you then.”

Mom turned to me with a questioning look. “Is that okay with you, Ricky? I actually think I’m looking forward to this, you know, some girl talk.”

“It’s pretty clear that we have much more in common with Marcia than we ever thought, Mom. I think it’s a good idea. Besides, I’d like to thank her, face to face, for what she didn’t do and did do for us.”

“Let’s eat.”

As we sat by the pool, we fed each other and sipped our drinks. I was in one of my generic surfer-type swim trunks and Mom had on an absolutely amazing, one-piece swimsuit. It was deep navy in color, with high, scalloped cut leg holes and a very narrow front panel, which barely covered her crotch. Her womanly thatch was evident on either side of the fabric. It was tight as a drum as it flowed over her mons, producing an obvious camel toe.

In the back, it was cut somewhere in between a bikini brief and a thong, showing a fairly generous, but not outrageous expanse of each of her wonderful moons. The front of the suit was a marvel of engineering. Over her bust, it was just scooped out enough for a moderate amount of décolletage to show, but at the same time, it produced a kind of push-up effect, which marvelously accentuated her breasts. It was at once incredibly stylish, elegant and very, very sexy.

“I take it this is one of those purchases from last Sunday which you wouldn’t let me see.”

“Right in one. It’s a Mara Hoffman.”

“It’s absolutely sensational, Mom. As much as I love how you look in a bikini, I think that this may become my new favorite. Whatever you paid for it, it’s worth every penny.”

“Thank you, sweet boy. I was hoping you’d like it.” Glancing down below her waist, she added, “I think a little trimming is in order, though.”

“No, no Mom – don’t do that, please!” I exclaimed hurriedly. “I like you just the way you are, not a girl, but all woman.” I bent over to whisper in her ear. “I love your sexy, hairy pussy just the way it is; it’s too pretty and tasty to change.”

Mom blushed and punched me on my arm. “You are so bad, Ricky. Okay. I’ll stay a cavewoman for you.”


“Yoo hoo, are you guys decent?”

“Open the gate and come on back, Marcia, Ricky and I are just finishing breakfast. Will you join us?”

“No thanks, dear, I’ve already eaten.”

“A drink perhaps? Ricky made some Bloody Marias.”

“That I think I could say yes to,” she said appreciatively. “Thanks very much.”

Marcia took the drink from me and smiled, plopping down into a folding chair opposite to our loungers.

“I truly hope I’m not intruding on you guys today, but I really wanted to talk with both of you a bit more. That past Friday night didn’t seem like the right time, and I really wanted to share a few things with you.”

She looked us both over with a warm, indulgent smile.

“I can just tell. It’s like a 20-foot billboard. You’re together now, aren’t you?”

Mom cleared her throat. “What makes you say that, Marcia?”

“Please, dear, call me ‘Marsh’. I’m already starting to think of you both as kindred spirits. But yes, it’s clear as a bell to me.”

She winked conspiratorially at Mom. “Jenny, my girl, you have The Glow.”

I smiled into my drink, sipping through its straw to cover my expression. I felt like I would burst with pride when I heard Marsh say those words. Next to the actual rush of giving my beautiful mother an orgasm, knowing that somebody else could tell how well I had loved her was almost as wonderful a feeling. I felt like I was ten feet tall with a twelve-inch dick.

Mom was aghast. “Is it that obvious?”

“Perhaps to me,” Marsh grinned. “I have developed a discerning eye over the past several years, and that’s one of the things I wanted to chat about.”

Marcia paused for a moment, sipping reflectively on her drink.

“We’ve been living across the street from one another for, what, 7 years now? You two have always been pleasant, courteous neighbors, even though I knew that you secretly thought I was the neighborhood busybody and gossipmonger.”

Mom stirred in her seat in protest,

Holding up her hand, Marsh halted Mom’s nascent complaint, saying, “No, Jenny, please hear me out. You have your job to channel your energies into. The best way you could protect your boy was to provide for his security by being successful in your career. I’m in a different position. My alimony has kept us quite comfortable and I’m not the kind of person who can sit in a cubicle and do insurance adjusting or whatever. My way of protecting Shawn when he was growing up was to be there for him as much as possible and to know the neighborhood and everything that went on in it.”

“So…I became the block sale organizer, the PTO chairwoman, the Trick or Treat lady and any other thing that would allow me to keep my finger on the pulse of this place. I was a pretty big control freak. It helped me cope with being a single Mom dependent on child support and alimony for my survival. I have an established reputation of poking my long nose into places where it isn’t necessarily welcome, under the guise of my role as the social queen bee around here.”

Marcia smiled briefly and resumed her narrative.

“All that changed three years ago when Shawn and I became lovers. It was quite a wrenching transition to suddenly become the possessor of such a dark, dangerous and terrifying secret. In the course of one day, I was transformed from the gossiping dirt detective to someone who could be ruined for life by one slip-up. That sort of thing tends to change your world view just a tad,” she stated dryly.

“Let’s face it, I’m just a nosy person by nature. All other things being equal, I probably would still be the same catty bitch I used to be. I didn’t pull away from my role in the neighborhood simply because Shawn was growing up. I now had something to fear. I could be hurt and lose something precious.”

I stood up to refill Marcia’s glass. “I guess I don’t understand how you came to discover us, that Sunday, Marsh.”

She chuckled ruefully. “Well Rick, between my reputation and your secret, I can only imagine what it must have been like, waiting to hear from me again.”

“It was a terrible time for us, Marsh,” Mom replied, holding her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “I was this close to breaking it all off.”

“I would never have forgiven myself if I ended up destroying something so beautiful. What you and Rick share is so much like Shawn and me,” she said wistfully. “It really makes me feel good to know that there is someone else out there who’s as lucky as we are. Just looking at you two makes me ache for my boy, but in a good way.”

“You know Jen,” she went on, “It’s ironic that I ended up causing you such difficulties, because I was actually coming over to talk about something I saw that Friday evening.”

When I saw Rick squiring you on his arm out to that limo, it really made my antennae twitch. The way you held onto him and the looks you were exchanging made me do a double take. It got me thinking and wondering about you two, and what happened after that was pure chance. I had just finished putting the cat out when you two got back from wherever it was you went.”

She paused and drew a deep breath.

“I saw the kiss you two shared in the front doorway. My God! It made me weak in the knees, wet between the legs and took my breath away, and I was only looking at it! I couldn’t get you two out of my head – at that time, I had no idea where you might have been in your relationship with each other, but I could tell by that kiss that if you weren’t already lovers, you would be soon.”

“You probably never noticed it, Jen, but I had always been a little jealous of your career and your status. You’re so busy that you aren’t aware of how respected and admired you are by most of your neighbors. My former self was always a bit envious, I guess.”

“Anyway, when I saw that incredible kiss, I felt an instant connection, as though we had suddenly become sisters under the skin. So… basically all I was planning on doing that Sunday was coming over to say, “You go, girl!” and “I’ve got your back.”

Marcia got up and went over to Mom, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “You REALLY go, girl!”

Mom blushed and chuckled, but then turned serious. “Marsh, what exactly DID you see?”

“Well, it was really more of a combined sensory impression sort of thing. As I was walking by the kitchen window, I saw you at the sink. You were sort of bent over with your head hanging down and Ricky here was….well…rather close behind you. You were, uhm, preoccupied and didn’t appear to notice me. I suppose if I had thought things through, I would have turned around and come back later, but I didn’t. I think subconsciously, I had an idea of what was going on and I guess I reflexively just went into nosey, prying mode, hoping to catch you two in the clinch, as it were, just to confirm my intuition.”

“So…. I let myself in by the garage and announced myself, and that’s what you probably heard. By the time I got down the hallway to the kitchen door, you had put yourselves back together, but there were a couple of details….”

“I really thought we had covered our tracks, Marsh,” I objected.

“Well Rick, at first glance, yes. However, ” she grinned, “It was pretty hard to overlook the aroma of fresh semen in the air. I also thought it was unlikely that I was seeing dish detergent on the inside of Jenny’s leg!” she laughed.

I groaned and slapped my forehead. Mom was blushing furiously.

“Anyway, I came to my senses and realized that I had created a real problem for the two of you by barging in essentially unannounced, so I made my excuses and got out of Dodge.”

Marcia cleared her throat and became more serious. “I’m very sorry now about what I did. It obviously created a real crisis for both of you. I had no way of knowing where things were really at for you guys and now I feel just horrible about how I handled things.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I hope you will forgive me. I hope we can become friends now, even though I know I’m presuming on you good will once again.”

Mom got up and sat next to Marcia. Taking her hand, she glanced at me for confirmation and said, “We forgive you Marsh. I’ll give you the details later, but it actually worked out for the best, unfolding the way it did. It took Ricky and me right to the edge of the abyss, but it made us see things as they really are between us, and how we actually want them to be for the future.”

“Look at this, Marsh,” she said, holding up her left hand. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Marcia took Mom’s hand and carefully inspected the ring. “Jesus, Jen, it’s magnificent! It’s got to be at least a full carat!”

“It’s a VVS 1, 1.2 carats,” I said proudly. “Nothing less than the best for my mother.”

“Don’t ask me what it means,” I added with a chuckle. “I’m just repeating what the jeweler told me. When I talked with him about my special lady, from the way I described her, he said nothing less would do her justice.”

Marcia was agog, looking back and forth between the two of us. Reaching out, I took Mom’s hand and drew her away from Marcia to my lap, placing my arms around her waist. “Marsh,” I declared, “I love this woman with my entire heart and soul. I want everyone who sees her to know that she has a man that thinks the world of her.”

Marcia was grinning fit to bust. “It’s exquisitely romantic, Ricky. You done your Momma proud. Jenny, when did he….”

Mom colored up and looked down at her feet, her blush quickly rising from her breasts to her hairline. “Just before our first time, Marsh, on Friday night. He proposed. He really, truly proposed to me!” Mom flung her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately and soundly.

Mom and Marcia were both tearing up now and I was getting a little misty-eyed myself. “We’re going to make a life together, Marsh,” I said seriously. “I’m looking at my job options right now to see how we’re going to make this work.”

“You guys are simply amazing,” Marcia exclaimed. “Two soul mates, Mother and Son – it’s perfection.”

Marsh paused for a moment and sighed dreamily. “I think the world would be a better place if more mothers loved their sons as we do, but people don’t or won’t ever look at that kind of love straight on, seeing it for what it truly is. Real love is the rarest, most precious commodity there is. Everybody on the outside just focuses on the sex aspect of it, how warped a person has to be to sleep with their child, how screwed up that young man must end up being, sleeping with his mother.”

“Jen, you and I both know how good the sex is. There’s nothing like it. Some of it is the taboo, but mostly it’s the connection, the deepest sharing possible between two people who already love each other. That extra sharing with your son is beautiful in a way the rest of the world will never understand.”

“But that’s their loss,” she concluded briskly, almost coldly. “I know what I have with Shawn and what you and Rick share. In the end, I’m not going to worry about what anyone else thinks. Our lives are rich beyond their myopic imaginings and repressed emotions. If I had my druthers, I’d find a way to bring more mothers and sons together.”

“We’re as lucky as two people can be, Marsh,” Mom agreed, looking at me with a warm smile.

“Well, Jen, you’ve already got me torn in two. You’re obviously going to be moving away, so you can be together safely, but it seems so unfair to me, since we’ve just started to really know each other. This bond we share now…it’s rare and special. I find that I am loathe to see you go.”

“It’s going to be a little while yet, Marsh,” I reassured. “I’ve got a couple of good prospects, but we probably won’t be doing anything for at least a month now. I think we have a lot to talk about, and I find I’m very much interested in meeting Shawn now. But don’t worry – I think we’ll be staying in touch with you two, for sure.”

“Shawn and I would really appreciate that, Ricky. Now though, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get the skinny from you guys on how you got together.”

“I don’t know how much there really is to say, Marsh,” Mom began. We’ve always been very close. I’m pretty sure that Ricky first became interested in me when he was about 13 or so – that about right, sweetheart?”

“Yah, Mom. I remember we first thought that I was just pretty much going through a normal phase, but I never really got out of it. I guess what was different for me was that the sexual attraction was always there, but on top of that, I truly and completely fell head over heels in love with you when I was about 15. That feeling never went away and only became stronger as time went by. After Nana and Gramps passed…well, all we had left was each other. I just had to be there for you, Mom. It was really tough to be so needed, but also not being able to act on how I really felt. There was always a little voice in the back of my mind saying “don’t push it, Rick. Be careful, don’t hurt her.”

“He’s such a good man, Marsh,” Mom said, slipping her arm around my waist and stroking my hair. “He was aching to be with me, but he put my feelings first. There was no way that I was prepared at that time for our relationship to change in that way. I think Ricky sensed that and didn’t push things. Lord knows I was vulnerable and lonely and sad enough at that point that I would have given myself over to his attentions if he had pressed,” she concluded.

“That’s amazing, Rick. I can’t think of anything more difficult to endure, as attracted to and as in love as you obviously were with Jen. I’m surprised you didn’t go off the deep end.”

“I never told you this Ricky, but I knew how you felt,” Mom said. “I could feel it in my bones. Until that time, I didn’t even remotely consider that there was any chance of us coming together. I think that was the first time I really saw what kind of man you might end up being. I was so proud of you, how mature and caring you were. It was then that I first began to think, in my most secret dreams, that maybe, just maybe we could be with each other. But I also knew that I wasn’t going to simply settle for an affair with my son, which could very easily ruin both of our lives.”

After Marsh left, we stayed planted in our loungers, soaking in the sun and simply holding hands. After recounting our story to her, we now turned our thoughts ahead to the coming months, and what our plans should be.

We had finally and miraculously ended up in each other’s arms, fulfilling the desires of both of our hearts. I felt that everything else in our world must surely fall into place, since we now had each other and would spend the rest of our lives together. Riiiight.

It’s hard enough for any “normal” couple to blend two careers together in one location, let alone an incestuous union between a mother and her son. We were not only going to have to move to conceal our secret, but also figure out how Mom could continue her career and I could start mine. This problem began to occupy most of our waking thoughts. Mom absolutely had to continue on as Jennifer Marie Lindermann, having built an entire career and life. That left us with figuring out how to make me someone else. The more we delved into the practical details, the bigger that devil got.

Our solution began to take shape about a week later, one evening after Mom came home from work. I had been on the phone all day with my old advisor at the U as well as quite a few of my mentors at cooking school, with few leads and a general dearth of ideas and suggestions. The consensus was clearly that I should stay in the metro area, as I had several standing offers at prestigious establishments, but I knew this was not going to work. We simply could not risk staying close to home, not if we were going to have any chance at a real life together.

I was keeping reasonably busy at Louie’s, having added one more day a week to my schedule there, while I wrestled with making a decision about my work. I tried to stay busy, because being at home with time on my hands was driving me crazy. Part of it was not knowing what my long-term plan should be, other than being with Mom. What was more surprising to me was how much I missed Mom when she went into work during the day. You would think that spending every waking hour of the weekends with her, sleeping in the same bed every night and making love at least once a day would have been enough, but every morning when she went out the door or I dropped her at the train station, it seemed as though the universe slipped a little bit out of kilter. I suppose I was just being greedy, especially considering how things had turned out for us. Pretty silly I know, but there it was.

I met Mom at the door as she came in and took her in my arms for a big, juicy kiss. “God, Mom, what’s the matter with me? You’re gone for a few hours at the office and I already miss you like crazy!”

“Mmmmmm, ” Mom purred, returning my kiss, tongue slithering over mine. “You were on my mind the whole day too, son. It was VERY hard to concentrate on work today. I shouldn’t have let you eat me before I left. My panties were soaking the whole day, you bad boy!”

“I’ll make it up to you after dinner, sweet lady. Unless you’re in a hurry, in which case I’ll just fuck you right now on the hallway floor.”

“Don’t get me going, you brat. Once I get started with you, you’d better be ready for the ride of your life. I don’t know why, but I’m feeling particularly insatiable this evening. Anyway, I want a shower too. The train was sardine city on the way back.”

Abruptly, Mom became more serious. “There are going to be some big changes at the firm in the next few months, Ricky. I’m thinking that they may be to our advantage, but we need to talk about it.”

I took Mom by the hand and led her into the kitchen. I sat at the breakfast nook and pulled her into my lap, nuzzling her neck and inhaling her scent. “What’s going on, Mom?”

Absently stroking my hair, she replied. “It looks like we’re going to merge with a very large, multinational, Anglo-American group. They have over 100 attorneys on staff and offices in the City, London, Melbourne, Auckland and Toronto. Normally, I’d be very concerned about being squeezed out of the new practice, because they have some better known people who do the same thing I do, but since we’re moving anyway, all we have to do is time my departure so I get maximal value for my partner’s share.”

“So I guess this will force our hand. No more dithering for us, Mom,” I gulped, heart hammering as I thought about the uncertainties ahead of us.

“I know you’re not likely to forget my trip to Vancouver, but I never really got a chance to tell you about it. Right now, it’s looking pretty relevant to our problem, sweetheart.” I nodded for her to continue.

“The negotiations I was involved in brought me into contact with the opposing attorneys from a very similar practice,” Mom explained. “After our business was concluded, the senior member of that group took me out to dinner and tried to recruit me. I was non-committal at the time, but didn’t give him a definite ‘no’ either. I’m thinking maybe I should call him. But that also brings us to the next layer.”

“I’ve also been thinking a lot about your situation, Ricky. You really don’t have any contacts in Vancouver, but if you’re willing to take a few risks, then I think we could make things work.”

“What risks, Mom?”

“Being on your own out of the gate, with your own place. Assuming a new identity.”

“Wow. I’d love my own place, but nobody is going to partner with or loan money to a wet-behind-the-ears chef with no track record.”

“Ricky, we’re in good shape financially. We’ll be in better shape after I leave the firm. If I can get the job in Vancouver, then I think we should go for it. I think that Mom and Dad would have been very pleased if you used your share of the inheritance to start your own restaurant. The hard part is going to be getting you a new name. It’s tricky and very illegal, but we’re also running risks right this very minute without doing anything. If you’re okay with that, I’ll need to make some discrete inquiries.”

“Whatever it takes, Mom. As long as we’re together, nothing else matters.”

Abruptly, Mom stood up. “I can’t wait another minute, sweetie. I’m calling Vancouver right now.”

I followed her into the study, as always captivated by the sway of her hips as she made her way to her desk. Consulting her Blackberry, she dialed a number.

“Hi, this is Jennifer Lindermann. I’d like to speak to Mr. MacLeish, if he’s available. Archibald, yes, not Seamus. Yes, I’ll hold.”

“We’re in luck, he’s in right now,” she mouthed to me, putting the speakerphone on.

“Hello, Archie? Jen Lindermann here.”

“Ah, Jennifer, my dear. It’s good to hear from you again, counselor. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Mom got right to the point. “Is your offer still open?”

“My goodness! Are you serious? Absolutely! To be honest, I never thought we would be able to pry you away from your current situation, but the truth is, I think you’d be a perfect fit with our little practice. I’m delighted you want to join us. What changed your mind?”

“I don’t think that the current direction of March, Dufrense and Briggs is where I want to be headed right now. In the strictest confidence, we may be merging with another larger group. Also, my personal life has changed significantly. I’m now in a committed relationship with a wonderful man who is able to move with me.”

Grinning, I blew Mom a kiss.

“Well, it seems like condolences and congratulations are simultaneously in order, my dear. I do hope I will have the pleasure of meeting this gentleman. To have landed you, he must be an extraordinary fellow indeed.”

“You’re a silver-tongued devil, Archibald. But yes, he’s all of that. I’m very, very lucky.”

“I take it the arrangement we discussed is still satisfactory?”

“Absolutely. And I’m assuming that your board of directors is still willing to have me join immediately as a full partner?”

“With your track record, no question. I think if anything, we’re looking to you as a probable rainmaker for the whole group. Though I shouldn’t say it, only I have a more extensive network of clients and contacts. I’ll have my assistant Melanie get to work immediately on the contract and the visa paperwork. You’ll have everything in hand no later than the day after tomorrow. Again, I’m so delighted you’ve made this decision.”

“Thank you very much Archie. I think this will work out well for everyone.”

“If you can get a few personal days in a week or two, I’d love to have you and your man come out for a visit. I can put you in touch with a real estate agent as well. Naturally, this will be at our expense. We’ll fly you both out first class if you can get free.”

“We’ll see what we can do, Archie. I’ll let my assistant know as soon as I can arrange things.”

“Splendid. Looking forward to seeing you.”

After hanging up, Mom turned to me with a smile. “Well, we just jumped off the cliff, lover. Are you ready for the ride?”

“Wow, just like that, with one phone call. I think I’m exhilarated and terrified at the same time. I never gave a lot of thought to my own place. I like the idea very much, but I’m scared I’ll screw it up.”

Mom came back to me and sat in my lap, arms around my neck. “You’ll do fine, tiger,” she said, nuzzling my cheek. “I’m a proud mom and a devoted lover to you, Ricky, but objectively, I totally and absolutely believe in you. You have enough business training and definitely enough talent in the kitchen to be successful. Remember, we’re a team. I know we’ll make this work.”

Drawing her closer, I sought her lips. “You are an amazing woman and I love you to death. I’m so lucky to have you, Mom. Without you, I’m not whole.”

“Mmmmm, you say the sweetest things to your mother, my son-lover. Are you trying to butter me up for something?”

“Absolutely. I think a son should tell his mother how much he loves her as often as he can,” I said slyly, placing my hand on her thigh.

“And in as many ways as possible, I can see.”

Mom cooed as my hand found its way under her skirt to cup her mound. Her panties were already wet and she shuddered as I traced my fingertip along her damp crease, pausing to briefly dally over her clit. She was moist and oh, so hot to the touch. “Oohhhhh, you’re being bad again, son,” she moaned. “You’re not going let me have dinner or a shower, are you?”

“No way, woman mine. I’ve got you just where I want you and I’m going to properly thank you for being such an incredible lady.” As I spoke, I gathered her in my arms and placed he on the edge of her desk. Stepping in between her knees, I reached under her dress to grab her panties at both sides. She raised her hips slightly to accommodate my intentions and I slid them off her hips quickly, leaving them to dangle on one of her ankles.

Moving in closely, I kissed her lightly, then traced my way down to her neck, tonguing her collarbone and making her shudder. I unbuttoned her blouse and popped the front clasp on her bra, freeing her breasts into my waiting hands. Gently thumbing her nipples, I bent to take one in my lips. Arching her back to meet my mouth, she exhaled and sighed. “Ahhh, what you do to me, you terrible man. I can’t control myself when you touch me.”

Alternating between her breasts, I continued to tease her nipples with lips and fingers, as she ran her hands over my ears, pulling me close to her. I slowly moved down to her waist, my tongue pausing in her navel, making her squirm with delight. Pushing her skirt up over her hips, I knelt before her and spread her legs. Her glorious petals were coming open before me, lips swollen and lightly moistened with her own dew.

I inhaled her scent and sighed, moving forward. “God, Mom, you are so beautiful. You smell and taste so good. I could eat you forever.” As I showered kisses and licks on her altar, she began to move in concert with my lips, gradually pushing herself out to meet my thrusting tongue, fingers firmly but gently entwined in my hair, urging me forward. Easing a finger into her portal, I also renewed my acquaintance with her little nub, gently teasing and flicking with my tongue. Now thrusting in earnest against me, she tightened her thighs around my head.

“Jesus Ricky, that’s soooo goood, lover. You eat me so good,” she sighed, her voice thick with lust.

Placing a second finger inside her, I began to curl them forward, gently searching for her special spot. Soon she stiffened, thrusting with even greater force against my face. Her juices were flowing heavily now, actually staining and pooling on the desk blotter beneath her marvelous ass. I began to vibrate my fingers and wrist, increasing my suction on her clit. My head was now in a vise grip from her thighs. Her breathing ragged, she suddenly took in a shuddering breath and cried, “Oh, God, baby! Oh God!!”

My face was abruptly dampened and I had to lick and suck as fast as I could to keep up with the torrent. Mom was absolutely vibrating on the edge of the desk, huge shudders shaking her frame as she kept thrusting her pelvis in totally involuntary fucking movements. Her hands were gripping my hair so tightly that I thought she would pull it out by the roots. Gradually she calmed, her chin on her chest, breasts heaving, coated in a fine sheen of perspiration. Slowly relinquishing her grip on my hair, she gently urged me up, pulling me to her for a long, slow kiss.

“You are such a bad boy, but I love you, son,” she whispered tenderly. “I love you so much!”

“You’re my queen, Mom. I’ll never get tired of pleasing you.”

We stayed together, Mom’s head on my chest, me stroking her hair, savoring our closeness in one of those brief but timeless moments where the universe contracted down to us and nothing else. Eventually, she stirred, tilting her chin up to look at me. I immediately recognized the lusty glint in her eyes as she ran her hands under my shirt to tease my nipples. Running her hands down my flanks, she brought them to my center, stroking me through my jeans with one hand as she sought the zipper with the other. “Your turn, lover boy.”

Quickly thrusting my pants and boxers to my ankles, she steadied me as I stepped out of them. Grasping and stroking at the same time, she pulled me forward, placing my pulsating head at her opening. Locking her arms behind my neck, she kissed me deeply, tangling her tongue with mine. Breaking away, she looked deep into my eyes and thrust herself forward, capturing me in her sweet, slick vise. “C’mon, Ricky, you bad motherfucker. Give that wonderful cock to Mommy. Give it all to me!”

Setting up a steady rhythm, I slowly began to stroke in and out of her, withdrawing completely before pressing forward each time. At the end of each stroke, I would rise onto the balls of my feet for a little extra oomph as I hit her deepest spot, slightly lifting Mom each time. She immediately voiced her approval with a small moan and grunt each time I bottomed in her. Slowly, we increased our pace, the room filled with the slap of flesh against flesh, protesting squeaks from the desk and rattling of the table lamp as we came together in our incestuous coupling. Placing her hand behind my neck, she drew my ear to her lips and whispered to me. “Don’t hold back, lover. Put it to me hard and fast. Mommy can’t wait for your cum.”

Mom always knows how to set me off. Sometimes a look, a few words or a special touch, but she knows exactly how to push my buttons. With those words, I simply grunted, slamming her as hard and fast as could. As I felt my seed rise, I buried my face at the juncture of her neck and shoulders, taking her delicate skin in my mouth, sucking fiercely. Mom’s arms tightened around my shoulders and she gasped, now thrusting back to match my savage pounding. As I exploded, I bit down, unleashing an inarticulate, primal growl, thrusting in as far as I could, holding myself in her. As I spent myself and bit, Mom stiffened against me, fingers raking my back as she struggled for purchase, attempting to pull me inside her as far as possible.

“Mom! Oh, Mom!” I whimpered in ecstasy.

As I anointed her slick channel, Mom’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Ohmigod! Again! Yes, baby, yes, YES!”

Gradually, we caught our breath and came to our senses, arms over each other’s shoulders, panting like distance runners. Glancing at her shoulder, I could see where I had latched onto her, the skin broken, reddened and bruised. “Jeeze, I’m sorry Mom. I don’t know what got into me. You were driving me absolutely insane.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It really turned me on. I feel like you marked me as your woman, you beastly caveman! It was so elemental, so primeval. It was the perfect way to end our fuck. It’ll keep the memory fresh for days. I love it.”

“At least let me clean it up and put a little ointment on it.”

“Thanks sweetie.”

As I tended to Mom’s shoulder, she idly trailed her hands over my chest, interrupting my ministrations several times with sweet, languorous kisses, which I returned with equal enthusiasm. When I finished, I took her hand and silently led her into the bathroom, where we shared a relaxing hot shower. After we toweled off, I suggested delivery and a quiet night on the couch with a movie, which seemed like the prefect thing to do. We shared a roasted veggie pizza and a nice little Chianti while we snuggled in our robes and looked for something to watch. We eventually settled on “To Catch a Thief” on one of the old movie channels, once again enjoying the classic Cary Grant/Grace Kelly chemistry. Unbeknownst to us, “North By Northwest” followed on the heels of the first Hitchcock and we ended up cocooned on the couch until well past midnight while we completed our impromptu double feature. It turned out to be the last unhurried time we had for quite a while.

If you’re madly, completely, head over heels in love, it’s very easy to do things that you might not consider for even a moment if the blood isn’t pumping, the heart racing, pussy juice flowing or the pre-cum oozing. Absolutely crazy stuff, like sixty-nining in the back seat of a car on the roof of a shopping mall parking garage, or loud oral sex in the backyard pool in broad daylight, where a neighbor could easily hear.

You tend not to think a lot about those risks, especially if you’re not caught, because basically you aren’t thinking. You’re running on this highly combustible mix of testosterone, estrogen, lubrication and pheromones; a combination hormones, neurotransmitters run amok and blinding lust that pretty much cuts your higher brain centers right out of the loop of decision-making. Basically, you go nuts.

When you start talking about doing actually dangerous things in the cold light of day, like acquiring an illegal ID, well, now you’ve moved into an entirely different realm. Mom and I didn’t have the faintest clue about how to go about something like that – all we knew was that we needed to start building our lives together, and that nothing was going to stand in the way of that. Yeah. Right.

Mom had essentially no useful resources to help us when it came to criminal law, that knowledge having been in her rear-view mirror since law school days. What she did have was contacts. She was the undisputed master of running down the chain of friends of friends of friends when it came to getting the information she needed. It was in this manner that we came to be acquainted Sam Schiller.

Sam was a retired NYPD police lieutenant, now double dipping by working as a P.I., having already put in some thirty-odd years on the force. He was not a disheveled, trench coated, unshaven boor with a three-quarters empty bottle of Jim Beam on his desk. You’d never guess his new profession based on his looks. He was slight of frame, with high and tight sandy hair slowly going to gray. His tired, soft brown eyes were usually framed by wire-rimmed bifocals. He was quiet, thin-lipped and calm. Walking past him on the street, you’d say to yourself “accountant” or “insurance adjuster.”

In reality, he was a veteran of the internal affairs unit, a fifth degree black belt in Kwanmukan karate and a grandfather three times over. He was friendly, approachable and imperturbable. Above all else, he came recommended to Mom as being thoroughly discrete and reliable, specializing in taking care of those delicate, often embarrassing little problems that sometimes trouble the lives of those nice folks who tend to live on the Upper East Side overlooking Central Park.

After a preliminary phone conversation with Mom, Sam insisted on a face to face meeting with both of us. It was on those terms, or he wouldn’t work with us. We got together at a local Denny’s the next day. After introductions were made, Sam was brisk and to the point immediately.

“So, why does a prominent, respectable attorney need to talk with me about false identities?”

Mom and I had our cover story well rehearsed. She began, asking, ” How much do you know about us, Mr. Schiller?”

“Sam, please call me Sam. I don’t bite.”

“Okay…Sam. Surely you’ve done your own background on us already. I’ll be disappointed if you haven’t checked up on us already. You have a reputation for being quite thorough.”

“Yes, Ms. Lindermann,” he replied carefully. “It’s true I like to know what I’m getting myself into before I take on a new client.”

“And what have you found out about us, so far?”

“That I have no idea why we’re talking,” he said bluntly. “There’s nothing in either of your backgrounds to suggest a reason for contacting me. This means either your stated reason is a blind for some other inquiry, or you have a secret you’re withholding from me. If it’s a ruse, then we’re done as of right now. If you are actually interested in what you say you are, but something else underlies your reasons for getting in touch with me, I’m intrigued. Somewhat concerned, but definitely curious.”

Leaning back slightly in his chair, he regarded us coolly, taking our measure in some way. He then looked up at the ceiling and began speaking, as though delivering some internally composed report.

“Jennifer Marie Linderman, born 39 years ago in Dayton, Ohio, daughter and only child of the late Broderick and Marie Lindermann. (Sorry to hear of how they passed, a terrible way to lose your parents, just terrible). Education – home schooled as a senior, while pregnant with your son, Richard Alan, aged 22, born also in Dayton. Stayed with your folks when your father was transferred to corporate headquarters for McLelland Industries and attended Monmouth Community College, obtaining an associates degree in business administration, with distinction. Subsequently transferred to Rutgers, where you continued your studies in business, graduating Magna Cum Laude two years later. Worked part time for McLelland, courtesy of your father, while attending night law school. After obtaining your J.D., employed by March, Dufrense and Briggs, rising to become the first female partner in the firm after only four years, where you currently remain. Currently considered one of the ten best international business attorneys specializing in Canadian-American commerce. Your W2 income last year was $387,543, including approximately $122K in bonuses. Your profit sharing plan balance is about $198K and you have an additional $200K in your market portfolio. Doing quite well, if I do say so myself. Currently being considered for a seat on the board of directors for your firm.”

Mom sat up straight, a small gasp of surprise escaping her lips.

“Oh, you didn’t know that, did you?” Sam grinned. “I guess I owe Art Briggs an apology for letting that slip. You were going to be told next week.”

Turning his gaze towards me, I felt more than a bit nervous, wondering how I ended up looking under his personal microscope.

“Richard Alan Lindermann, born twenty two years ago on March 23rd, a Tuesday, if I remember correctly. Father not listed on birth certificate. Honors graduate of Princeton Country Day School four years ago. Romantically linked with one Grace Chun Hei Kim, sophomore through senior years during high school. Attended Columbia University on a merit scholarship, commuting from home. No serious relationships while in college, with the exception of a two year liaison with your English professor, one Cassandra Ellis, aged 48,” he continued, raising one eyebrow slightly. “Graduated Summa Cum Laude three months ago with a double major in Culinary History (an individual major, as I recall) and Business Administration. Employed in various capacities by Louis Joseph Agostino, proprietor and sole owner of Agostino’s Ristorante since your sophomore year in high school. Known to speak passable French and Italian, courtesy of your culinary education at two different cooking schools, as part of your individual major.”

Pausing for a breath, he continued, attention focused on me, stating matter of factly, “Your mother is not known to have had any long or short term relationships since you turned thirteen. The current office rumor is that she has recently become involved with a younger man, her first known serious relationship in some time,” he said evenly, eyes never leaving my face.

How I managed to remain calm under his searching gaze, I’ll never know, but I didn’t even flush, although I had tingles running up and down my spine and my guts had congealed somehow in my shoes. I prayed that he couldn’t see the goose bumps on my arms. At that moment, Mom broke in, saving me from any further scrutiny.

“Sam, are you aware of the circumstances surrounding Ricky’s birth?”

“It’s one of the bigger holes in your history. I had hoped we could talk about that. Is this connected in some way to your interest in meeting with me?”

“It is. Rick’s biological father has recently resurfaced and has made an attempt to contact us,” Mom lied smoothly.

“He’s not a particularly nice person, Sam. To my knowledge, he’s never done anything criminal, but certain things he said when he first called me have me worried. I want you to obtain IDs for us in the event we need to disappear. I consider this possibility very remote, but I learned a long time ago never to take anything for granted. I believe in thorough contingency planning, it’s one of the reasons why I’m good at what I do. When it comes to my son’s safety and my own, I’m not prepared to take any chances,” she stated flatly. “That’s why we’re here today.”

“Okay,” Sam said, somewhat skeptically. “We’ll leave it at that for now. I’m reasonably satisfied that you’re not an embezzler or some other type of criminal, but I won’t be a party to facilitating any kind of serious crime and if I find out you’ve been anything less than completely honest with me, well, I still have contacts inside the DA’s office,” he scowled warningly.

Taking a breath, he then relaxed visibly, turning his attention to Mom. “The first order of business is establishing plausible deniability. You need a reason to start poking around in this area. Here’s how it’ll work. Tomorrow some time, you’ll receive a call from a potential client. The substance of your initial conversation will hint at a potentially lucrative bit of work, but you’ll have reservations, something won’t feel quite right. We’ll call him, uhm, Mr. Robert Washington. You’ll discuss the situation with Art Briggs, suggesting that a little checking is in order before getting involved. That’s where I’ll come in. I’ll make it known to you and Art that something could be amiss.”

“Under this guise, you and I will work together to see if your “client” is who he appears to be. This is how you will eventually get in touch with who you need to see.”

“You certainly live up to your reputation, Sam,” Mom said admiringly. “I’m very impressed. I think we can work together on this, no problems. And I give you my word, we don’t have anything going on you need to worry about.”

“Just see to it that things stay that way and we’ll be fine.”

With that, Mom nodded and slid an envelope across the table, saying, “Here’s your retainer, Sam. Let me know when you need more for expenses.”

Nodding curtly, Sam stood and left quietly, looking intently at me one more time before turning towards the door. I felt like I was in a marksman’s sights until he left the restaurant.

“Mom,” I whispered anxiously, ” Do you think he suspects?”

Patting my hand reassuringly, Mom said, “No, darling, I think we’re okay. He’s just being careful and cautious. He’s trying to push your buttons, thinking you’re the weak link here, trying to get more information, feeling things out.”

Chastely kissing my cheek, she added, “You did great, by the way. I thought you were very composed and handled yourself quite well.”

“I think you’ve got the makings of a pretty good poker player, sweetie,” she teased.

“Thanks, I guess. I can’t wait ’til this is all over, though. By the way, why are you doing a passport as well? I thought the plan was for me only.”

“It’s got to be both of us if my cover story is going to hold any water, sweetheart. Just stay focused, Ricky. You probably won’t have to interact much more with Sam. That will mostly be on me, and I know how to handle myself.”

“Okay, Mom.”

Over the succeeding days, Mom and Sam slowly spun their web together, generating a paper trail at the law firm and providing periodic “updates” to Art Briggs. Eventually, the legend for Mom’s phantom client was complete, with the seed planted that a certain unsavory Russian expat had some useful information about who “Mr. Washington” really was. That information would be provided to us for a small financial consideration. Finally, the big day came and we had to go to the meet. Of course, we were actually getting our pictures taken for the IDs and making the payoff. Sam drove us to Brighton Beach, to introduce us to “Vanya,” a frankly scary guy who would hook us up with the specialist.

Vanya, who was supposedly from Toronto, held forth from the back table of a small, nondescript café around the corner from the Tatiana Restaurant and Night Club, just off of Brighton Beach Drive. As we parked just down the street from his lair, I unfastened my seatbelt and started to open the door. Sam put his arm across me, forcing me back into my seat.

“Hold your horses, Rick. I don’t like this.”

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Mom asked anxiously.

“That delivery van across from the cafe – this is the third time I’ve seen it here. It’s not local – see, the plumber’s listed as Staten Island. This doesn’t feel right.”

“What do we do now?” I swallowed hard. Mom and I had been in a state of high anxiety the whole time our little operation had been underway and to suddenly have a wrench in the plans was almost more stress than I could stand.

“Sit tight for the moment. I’m going to check things out. Both of you stay here. Jenny, get your scarf and hat again. Both of you, put your dark glasses on. I’ll be right back.”

Several interminable minutes later, Sam slipped back into the car. Without a word, he started the car, quietly pulled a U-turn and headed back towards New Jersey. He didn’t say a word until we had come all the way down the Shore Parkway and were half way across the Verazzano Narrows Bridge.

“That was close,” he said. “I think Vanya’s under surveillance. I don’t know who. Could be local, could be the Feds. I have no idea. We need to go to ground for a bit. I’ll figure out something else and let you know in a few days. Sorry to disappoint you guys, but believe me, if there’s some kind of op going down, we want to be long gone.”

When we got home, Mom and I walked into the foyer and went directly to the family room. She poured three fingers of brandy into a couple of snifters and handed one to me without a word. A couple of gulps steadied me, but Mom downed hers in one long pull and then immediately poured herself another, sitting heavily on the sofa.

“You okay, Mom?”

“Yes, dearest. Just a lot of anxiety. We were very close to getting involved in something that would have blown right up in our faces.”

“Do you think we should back off, rethink our plans? I don’t want you to be so stressed, pretty lady. We could try to figure something else out,” I said soothingly.

Mom reached over to interlace her fingers with mine, squeezing hard.

“Thanks honey, you’re so sweet, but I’ll be okay. I still trust Sam. I think we’ll be fine. Let’s wait to see what his Plan B is before we decide anything else, okay?”

“If you’re good with it, I’m fine too, Mom.”

We had hoped to hear from Sam shortly, but nothing happened. He didn’t return any of Mom’s messages or texts and slowly, a day or two turned into more than a week. Mom and I were starting to really worry. With no contact from Sam, our anxiety gradually built every day, the uncertainty and unknown future gradually morphing into a conviction that our secret had been discovered and the axe was soon to fall on our necks.

Every night, we held each other close, not knowing if it might be the last time we could do so. Finally, it all got to be too much and we fled the house, opting to spend the weekend on the Delaware shore, near Cape Henlopen. We lived on take-out, spending nearly the whole time making love in our motel room, interspersed with occasional walks on the near empty, off-season beaches. Our couplings were frantically intense and almost unbearably emotional, ending as often in mutual tears as kisses, but neither of us was willing to openly acknowledge why. We were both deathly afraid of what might be waiting for us at home.

Sunday night came and the thought of returning to New Jersey was unbearable. I felt like a soldier about to embark on a suicide mission, with no hope of return or redemption. Mom must have felt the same, because she broke down and called into her office, saying she was taking a sick day on Monday and we spent one last, intense night together. Neither of us wanted to sleep much. We stayed up nearly the whole night, just holding each other between bouts of almost desperate lovemaking. Finally, the inevitable could no longer be postponed and we made the drive back to home bleary-eyed, in nearly complete, funereal silence, Mom’s hand tightly clasped in mine for the entire journey.

We arrived home near dusk and our worst fears seemed to materialize immediately in front of us. Sitting in our driveway was a black Crown Vic with high-frequency antennas. As we pulled in, Sam got out of the passenger side and a tall black man in a three-piece suit joined him. Hand shaking, Mom lowered her window and Sam leaned in. I put my hand on her shoulder to steady her.

“Hello, Jenny, Rick,” he said neutrally. “I’d like you to meet Assistant District Attorney Tyrone Marquand.”

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Mother and son find a love like no other - Part 1, 7.5 out of 10 based on 13 ratings