I cried and cried and cried.
I found myself stood in the kitchen in my son’s arms, the crying had stopped and I dabbed at my eyes. At that point I had never needed a man so much in my life. Oh how I desperately wanted a man to hold me, to feel the warmth and security and to revel in the glow of mutual love and attraction.
I raised my head and looked into Tom’s eyes,
“Don’t worry mum, he said, I love you more than you can ever know.”
With that he bent his head and kissed me incredibly softly on the lips. It was just one peck but it lingered maybe one second longer than you would expect such a kiss to last. Still gazing into my upturned face and holding my eyes with his, he slowly bent again and kissed me again.
My heart was doing somersaults and by the third time he ever so lightly brushed my expectant lips with his, I was going under fast.
The fourth little peck that he gave me simply turned into one long kiss. I knew this was so very, very wrong, yet I needed Tom, I needed his love, I needed his affection and I so desperately needed his lips on mine.
I needed a man.
I had never felt what it was like to be held and caressed by a man. I was a young woman still and I knew I had a very attractive face and figure, yet as I said before, in my own eyes I was still a virgin. I know you will think that to be nonsense as the very presence of my son made that impossible but I truly believed myself to morally be still a virgin.
My son and I held each other and kissed for what seemed like a lifetime, until I eventually broke away. Nervous, embarrassed and very afraid, I straightened my hair and I stammered,
“Oh thanks Tom my love, I just needed someone to hold me,” I said as nonchalantly as possible, acting as though nothing had happened.
But something had happened and after Tom made his way to his bedroom, his brain in a confused and muddled mess, I sat and thought…
Sometime later I knocked on my son’s bedroom door.
“What is it mum?” He asked.
“Can I come in darling,” I said.
“Yeah sure mum, come in,” was the reply.
I entered his bedroom and stood a few feet from his bed. No words were spoken, as my shaking, trembling and very frightened fingers pulled apart the belt around my robe. I shrugged it from my shoulders and it fell to the floor with a loud ‘flump’.
I stood naked before my son.
“Oh Jeez mum,” Tom whispered, his eyes glued to my naked body. I watched as his eyes roamed over my breasts and lowered themselves to the junction of my legs.
“Please baby,” was all I managed to say.
Tom slid from the bed and approached me, then he unexpectedly took my hand and led my out of the room. The short walk from his room, across the landing and into my bedroom, was incredibly exciting and symbolic. Being naked and my son still being fully dressed, somehow made me feel extra naked and exposed.
Tom led me to my own bed and sat down. I stood naked before him and moved to stand between his legs. I bent to kiss him, my breasts swinging forward provocatively, my son cupping them in his hands.