I was totally charged up by what I had read. I must have looked at the words, ‘Highly sexed’, and ‘Feelings for my son’ about a hundred times. I spent the rest of the night imagining the unimaginable. I couldn’t sleep thinking about having sex with my mother. I was anything but turned off by it. I knew that a son isn’t supposed to want his mother that way, but I was wanting her from the tip of my stiffened cock to every position I imagined her in. I had gone triple X with my mom in a quantum leap. I almost had to stifle a yell because I came so hard.
I hoped that mom would write to that author again so I could read what she was saying. I got up around eight the next morning and after having coffee with mom I went to the computer to see if Unitech had answered. That was one reason; actually, I was more interested if Em had answered.
I had to go through mom’s bedroom to get to the small sitting room where she kept the computer. As I walked through it I was struck by both her presence and her absence. She was there in the cobalt blue dress that still graced the chair she had left it on last night. She was there in the fragrance of powder that added silk to a body I knew needed none. I knew it even though I had never actually run my hand from her calf to her thigh, or from her neck to the small of her back, where the curve of her ass rose to meet it. She was there in the hint of lavender that you could inhale if you came close enough to her skin. But she wasn’t there in the bed where I could only imagine what her pussy would look like with her legs splayed, waiting for her son to enter her. Since reading that e-mail, that was the picture I couldn’t get out of my head. And I didn’t want to.
At the computer, there was nothing in the in-box, but when I looked at the sent e-mails, there was another one that mom had sent. I guess Em wrote her back sometime early Saturday morning and mom must have deleted it, but she didn’t realize that her sent e-mails were being automatically saved for the day. Mom wrote,
Dear Em,
Thanks so much for your answer. I appreciate your warnings that these things can be difficult and that once that physical boundary is breached, there’s almost no turning back. It just seems to be getting worse for me all the time. I’ve had enough of men to last a lifetime, but just being near my son stirs a hunger in me that I’ve never experienced. I know that the excitement of incest is part of what’s driving me, but I’m so drawn to him. His name is Paul. When he was born my then husband said, “We have to name him Paul, because he’s so you.” Even though he’s only been with me on weekends for years now, I’ve felt him as part of me, always. Em, I’m actually aching for him. I could go on, but I’m afraid I’ll embarrass both of us. Thanks for being there.
Love, Paula
All of Saturday served to accelerate my feelings. I fantasized, I masturbated, I decided, and then undecided, and then decided again to do something about it. I left the house in the afternoon and shot some hoops with my friends. I even missed the lay-ups. That evening when I came home, I couldn’t stop looking at my mother’s body. In my crazy head, mom was telling me something. The top she wore looked a little bit tighter; the skirt looked a little bit shorter. The heels were a little bit higher.