I lay motionless, though I wanted with every fiber of my being to roll over on top of her and let us go crazy on each other. But no. Mom was skittish, probably at the extreme limit of her comfort zone, and I didn’t want to risk missing out on what I was now sure this would eventually lead to. I simply lay still, letting mom do whatever she wanted to me.
Eventually, she tensed up, her body trembling as half a dozen small gasps escaped her lips. My own dear mother had just gotten off, and had used me to help! I don’t think my own orgasm would have brought me more satisfaction in that moment.
I stayed in bed with mom all that night, but didn’t allow myself to so much as touch her again. The next morning, I let her get up first, pretending to be asleep. I could hear her start coffee, then went out to the kitchen to greet her before she had the benefit of caffeine to bring her fully awake.
“Good morning, mom. How did you sleep?” I asked, coming up behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist as she stood at the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish. I pushed close to her, my crotch to her butt, imitating our position from the night before. “I slept great,” I continued, wrapping my arms tighter around her waist and pressing my cock more firmly against her backside. “I had a really good time, too.”
“What do you mean?” mom asked nervously. I turned her around in my arms so we were face to face and kissed her with intent. A small kiss followed by another, and yet another. Each time pulling her lip between mine, and finishing with the tip of my tongue briefly lighting against her lip. She was standing with her back pressed against the counter, and couldn’t move away if she’d wanted to.
“You know,” I said, “snuggling with my mommy as we fell asleep. I hope it wasn’t too intrusive, me sharing your bed like that.” I left my meaning intentionally vague. I didn’t want he to know whether or not I knew what she’d done when she thought I was asleep.
“Oh,” she giggled nervously. “No, it wasn’t too intrusive at all.”
“Well,” I said, “maybe we should do that once in a while. I know I really enjoyed every moment of it!”
“I don’t know,” mom said slowly. “I’m not sure it’s the most appropriate thing for me to share my bed with my son, no matter how innocent it is. It wouldn’t look right!”
“Mom,” I cajoled, “who do you think is looking? You said yourself it’s only the two of us here. And we don’t answer to anyone for how we choose to live, right? I love you, mom, and I like to be close to you. I like kissing you, and I enjoy us holding each other. Is there anything wrong with that?”
“Well….when you put it like that, I guess not.” Mom was trying to find an argument, but I’m sure she, too, was fighting the same losing battle I’d fought. Maybe what we felt and wanted wasn’t typical, but who has the right to judge?
That weekend, I decided not to go out with my buddy on Saturday night. When I told mom I was going to stay home, she seemed pleased. I think that whether or not she would be open to an incestuous sexual relationship with me, she really enjoyed our time together. I told mom I didn’t feel like a night of drinking, and asked if she’d mind if I got high at home.
wpDiscuz