Reluctantly Mom said “Tommy it’s midnight; you have to report to the Armory in eight hours.”
We leaned into each other for a final, special, memorable kiss. Then, oh so reluctantly, we separated. Being above Mom on the couch, when rising up her breasts brushed from the top of my chest toward my waist. Through my pajamas I could feel my briefs-tented manhood move up her legs until it snapped, like an interlocking piece of finely crafted machinery into the junction of her legs and V-temple of her sex. Mom let out a sigh, our eyes met, we paused, momentarily frozen in place. It took all our strength to separate our bodies. That not-fully-understood feeling would be replayed in my mind every waking moment of my deployment.
After a very long and very cold shower I put on fresh briefs and I went to my bed. Half asleep I thought I must surely be dreaming when Mom got under the covers with me for the first time in ten or so years. She whispered “Please hold me.”
While warmly embracing her it didn’t take long to process the fact that Mom was wearing only her cyan panty and bra. The sensation of our bare legs touching, my hand on her bra strap, and her satin covered breasts against my chest was like an electric shock.
Sensing my reaction she said “I want to be as close to my son as a mother could possibly dare to be without crossing the line. It will be so long before I see you again.”
She paused and softly continued “It’s really wouldn’t be sin to be in bed together like this if we don’t make love.”
She didn’t sound too confident in her reasoning; it sounded much more like a question. Moving my hands up and down her back, the sensation of her satin bra strap over her bare back was enough to make the hair on my neck stand on end, not to mention what it did to the other guy. Not knowing what do or say, I held her tightly. Reaching up and putting my hand on the back of her head, gently pulling her face next to mine, we kissed. Can a kiss be both passionate and chaste?
“I love you, Tommy. You must take care and return to me. I cannot live without you.”
Here I was an eighteen year-old virgin, in bed, under the covers, with the most perfect woman in the world. It seemed so normal and natural to be so intimately close; really, the most natural thing in the world. Mom’s warmth, scent, breathing, sensuous body, and skin-on-skin contact was more than a little distracting; sleep took its sweet time arriving.
Too soon it was morning. We hadn’t – I wanted to believe – sinned, so I thanked God for these past hours. I prayed for Mom’s protection and to be safely returned to take care of her forever. Mom was soon stirring, we gazed into each other’s eyes and our lips found their mark. Untangling ourselves was sweet agony. We reluctantly separated our bodies, and lastly, our lips.
After a quick breakfast and another round of hugs and ‘I-love-you’s’, Mom dropped me off at the Armory.
After a last tender goodbye kiss I said “I’ll write to you every chance I get.”
“I’ll reply to every letter. Put the back of each one to your lips to get my kisses.”