We kissed for some time as he played with my breasts and I slid my hand under his tee shirt and around the bulge in his jeans. I wanted to unzip him and feel his hardness, but I stopped myself as it was going too far. Then I felt his hand on my knee and that made me stiffen. Still kissing me he started moving it up my bare leg until it was onto the fleshy part of my thigh and I grabbed his wrist.
“No James, not here.”
“Why not?” He asked pushing back against my hand. “We would hear Sara, that’s why we are in dad’s study.”
“But it’s wrong here.”
“Mum, it wasn’t wrong in the garden room with the photos or in the courtyard was it?”
“Oh you know what I mean.”
“Yes mum,” he went on squeezing my thigh and pushing to go further from where I was holding his wrist. “I know what you mean and I also know what you want don’t I?”
“Do you James,” I gasped as his other hand gripped mine and pulled on it.
“Yes darling, yes I do, don’t I?” he said pulling more firmly on my wrist and kissing me.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“I think you do,” he went on pulling more firmly. “Don’t you Anna, don’t you A, don’t you mum?” He went on licking my extended nipple that was aching with desire.
“What?” I almost groaned as my grip on his wrist slackened.
“You know that I know what you want don’t you?”
“Oh James.”
“Don’t I and don’t you?”
The conversation was getting a little disjointed and I could hardly follow the theme as he went on. “Let go of my wrist mum.”
“No. No we mustn’t.”
“Mustn’t what?”
“Do anything.”
“We are already doing something Anna, look down at your chest.”
“Oh my god yes,” I groaned seeing my open shirt and bare boobs
“So let go mum, let go of my wrist, let me go where we both want us to go.”
“No James,” I sighed with absolutely no conviction, which he clearly noted for he pulled on my hand that was holding his wrist. To my and probably his surprise as well it came away leaving his hand on my thigh and the other being held by mine resting on my hip.
“And no really does not mean no does it A,” He asked as he inched his hand upwards?
His chin was resting on my right breast and our eyes met. He went on. “Does it mum, you don’t really mean no do you?”
“Oh darling no. No I don’t really mean no,” I groaned partly in disappointment that I was giving in and partly in excitement of what lay ahead.
His fingers pushed on the inside of my thigh with a clear message, a request and an invitation. Looking deeply into my son’s eyes I acknowledged that I had understood the message and that I had received the request. Slightly opening my legs I tried to infer to him that I was accepting his invitation. But an invitation to what, I speculated as he slid his hand up the inside of my thigh and pressed it against the soaked gusset of my panties; it felt lovely and surprisingly so right and natural!
I could hardly believe what was happening and what we were doing. But then there were many things I could hardly believe about my burgeoning relationship with James particularly of course the sexual side to it. What we were doing now, though, took me back to when I was young. Petting and snogging on a sofa was what kids do not middle aged women, but then I had to remind myself as his hand reached the top of my thighs, that he was a kid really and yes I was a middle aged woman, but one that was infatuated with a young man, my son.