I shower and get ready to go to school. I fix Jeff breakfast and can’t help but smile as he comes bounding into the kitchen. He is a good son. He quickly gobbles up the simple food I’ve prepared and I watch him fondly. Jeff has become a man, I realize. He stands six foot tall and is handsome. His lean, well muscled body is on exhibit as he wears a lungi, a traditional Indian garment that wraps around his waist, leaving his torso exposed. The Indian sun has bronzed his body and has bleached his blonde hair to a bright white.
Suddenly, without warning, I am envisioning his body as the one in my dream. My heart begins to pound even as I feel a tingle in my cunt…warm wetness spreading between my legs. As Jeff takes his plate to the sink, my eyes are drawn down to his crotch, where even through the comfortable, loose cloth of his lungi there is a discernable bulge and I envision the cock of my dream lover hanging between my son’s strong thighs.
I gasp and shake my head, trying to clear my mind of the disturbing visions I am suddenly entertaining.
“Mom? Mother, are you all right?” Jeff is suddenly standing beside me, his strong hand on my shoulder, looking down at me, his face full of concern.
“Uh — Um, yes, I um, I’m sorry, honey. I just didn’t sleep too well last night.”
“Yeah, I think I heard you tossing and turning a lot, Mom. Is there anything I can do?” Jeff rubs the tight muscles in my shoulder and I grunt happily.
“That feels good, son,” I murmur in reply, smiling up at him. Then I glance downward. His crotch is level with my face and there is definitely a bulge in his lungi — a very distinctive and large presence! I scoot away from the table — images of my dream lover’s cock exploding into my mind.
I look up nervously as I stand. My son is staring at me intently, eyes full of concern and it seems something else. Maybe it’s my imagination, but it feels like he’s looking at me appreciatively, the way his father used to look at me back in college! Or maybe, I am going crazy! I can feel myself blushing and I turn away, taking my dishes to the sink and trying to act normally. “We better get off to school, Jeff. It wouldn’t do for the teacher or her son to be late.”
Jeff looks at his watch and nods in agreement. “Oh wow, it is almost time for school and I told Bimal I would meet him before classes!” He looks at me expectantly. “Are you sure you are alright, Mother?”
I smile at his formality, so much more common here than in America. He hears it so much here, he often calls me that instead of Mom. “I’m fine, honey, go on, meet your friend.” And like a whirlwind, Jeff grabs his backpack and is out the door. I keep the smile on my face until he is gone and then I slip to the floor and sob. What is happening to me? Am I going stark raving mad? My sex fantasies now mixing with thoughts of my son — am I going insane? My mind flashes back to my masturbation fantasy in the bathroom. My fantasy lover’s hair was the exact blonde color as my son’s!
I wail like a baby until I hear Joseph stirring in the bedroom. How do I explain my madness to him? I can’t, so I wipe my eyes and struggle to pull myself together. I come from hardy Alabama stock. I can soldier on.