Surprised and more than a little taken aback, I looked at my mother. Because of the difference in height, she had her face tilted, eyes wide as she gazed at me. In what I took to be a self-conscious gesture, my mother adjusted the nightie, covering up, hiding her boobs.
Concerned by my mother’s demeanour, I said, “Yes, mum; I mean it.”
“And what about her?” My mother pointed towards the ceiling, indicating her sister in the bathroom above.
It was a snap decision — truth or a lie?
I went with the truth.
“I love Aunt Brooke, too,” I said with a nod. “I love both of you, mum.”
My mother’s eyes dropped away from my face. “Oh,” she said, the word disconsolate.
Picking up on her anxiety, I moved until we were square-on to each other. Then, with the tip of a finger under her chin, I tilted her face.
“But you’re my mum,” I said. “I love you because you’re my mother.” Then, around the emotion clogging my throat, I added, “But I love you another way, too. It’s hard to explain. But I love you like you’re a girlfriend.” I was blushing when I continued with, “Now, at home with you, now that we’re together, it’s like I could be your husband.” Embarrassed by the cheesy ridiculousness o what I’d said, I let out a snort. “Shit, that sounds so stupid,” I said.
“I understand though, Alan. And I don’t think it’s stupid at all.” My mother went up on tiptoe and planted a kiss on my mouth. “It’s lovely,” she said. “Beautiful, Alan.”
“Let’s go upstairs,” I growled, hands on her waist. I kissed her, the heat rising inside me, my cock at half-mast.
My mother returned the kiss, groaning into my mouth, her frontage pressed against me. “I don’t want to fuck,” she said. “After hearing you say that, the thing about love, I want to make love, Alan. I don’t want this time to be all rushed and sweaty.”
I seized the moment by saying, “All right, but I want to see you, mum. I want you to take off your nightie. I want you naked this time.”
I saw her throat work, trepidation in her expression. “I’m forty-seven,” sighed my mother. “I’m not a skinny girl, Alan. I’ve had three children.”
Without a verbal response I kissed her again. Gentle and tender, a sign of love. My mother moaned softly, squirming, my cock rigid between us.
“Come on,” I told her, turning away.
She followed, letting me lead her by one hand. Compliant, my mother came up stairs, moved over the landing, and past the bathroom where my aunt was drawing a bath. It’s a big house — five bedrooms and a home-office upstairs. I led my mother into her room and let go of her hand. Closed the door to give us privacy. Went to the bed where I turned on the lamp sitting on the three-tier drawer set near the head.
After lowering the blind and closing the curtains, I faced my mother and saw she hadn’t moved. She was standing near the door, edgy and nervous, chewing her lower lip while she eyed me with what looked like suspicion.
I stared at my mother and, with kindness tempered with steel, said, Take it off, mum.”
“Alan,” she murmured.
“Naked,” I said as soon as she started to speak. “I want this time to be skin on skin.”