“Mom, you’re forty, that is not even mid-life yet,” he comforted me.
“I know, I know,” I replied, “it just seems that I have shrivelled up inside.”
“You should be dating,” he suggested.
I sighed, “I just can’t find anyone who is remotely as good for me as your father was.” I then added the innuendo with what I had planned for tomorrow, “plus, I already have the perfect man in the house.” After a lengthy silence as I allowed my words to marinate in Paul’s mind, I continued, “So I walked up to your dad-to-be and asked him ‘Does Batman want to fuck Batgirl?'”
“Mom!” he gasped, although he continued massaging my foot.
“I told you I would surprise you,” I said, before asking, “Can you do my other foot, too?”
He switched feet as I continued, “I didn’t even wait for an answer before I grabbed his hand and led him back to the room I had just been in.” I paused, Paul’s face of shock telling me he wasn’t ready for such detailed information about his mother’s sex life. I stammered, suddenly feeling guilty, “I-I-I’m s-s-sorry Paul, I have said too much.”
I quickly stood up, even though I was really enjoying the foot massage.
He stood up to and said, “It’s okay, Mom.”
I smiled, “I’m sorry, it’s just I don’t have anyone to talk to about your dad.”
“I understand,” he said sincerely and pulled me into a hug.
As our bodies crashed together, I felt his very stiff cock poking at my leg. I briefly pondered just dropping to my knees, pulling out his cock and devouring it whole, yet I was no longer sure he wanted to have sex with me. Although he was definitely hard, and he practically drooled over my legs and massaging my feet, his verbal response of shock to my story conflicted with the physical evidence.
Breaking the hug, I looked up at him, Paul was over six feet tall like his father, and said, “I love you, son.”
“I love you too, Mom,” he smiled back.
Deciding to take one more risk before the evening was over, I leaned forward and briefly kissed him on the lips, then said, “I’m going to go and take a bath.”
“Okay,” he said, looking bewildered, I sensed, with conflicting feelings towards his mother.
In the bath, I hoped I had left enough hints, created enough intrigue and stirred enough sexual lust that tomorrow my plan would come to fruition. I had doubts, more than I had before the conversation, but the more I thought about it, the more I believed he wanted to fuck me as much as I wanted to fuck him. I just had to give him the ultimate, no doubt about it, green light, and that I would do tomorrow.
After my bath, which included a very lengthy intimate encounter with my shower head, I spent a couple hours in my room watching television and trying not to overthink what had just transpired or worry about tomorrow. At bedtime, I knocked on Paul’s door and after being allowed in asked, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I have no plans,” he answered, already in bed, under the sheets, his cheeks red.
“Excellent,” I said, “tomorrow, you’re all mine.”
“Okay,” he said, looking at me strangely.
“Trust me,” I smiled. Walking over to his bed, I leaned in and kissed him on the lips again, this time lingering just a millisecond longer, making sure my breasts were directly in his point of view, “I have a very full day ahead for you.”