Harry tried to distract from the embarrassment of the situation by remarking on how hard the rain was still coming down strong on the roof of the shed, and how much water was leaking through the gaps between the slowly rotting planks. Somehow during that time he and his mother had progressed from a sitting position on the mattress to a reclining position, Harry on top of her, the two in each other’s arms.
Claire wrapped her legs around her son’s hips, convincing herself that this too was a necessary measure to evade the dampness and keep the chill away. Her mind returned to the after-work back rubs too, how she, unknown to her son, couldn’t help getting warm and moist in her womanhood when her son’s strong hands caressed the back of her neck and shoulders years ago, though of course acting on the response would be the last thing she would ever do. Just as he explained his reaction at the time away by telling himself he was a horny young teenager who’d respond to just about anything – human, animal, vegetable, or mineral with a hint of sexuality, she explained those feelings away by telling herself that years spent alone after the death of Harry’s father had primed her in the wrong way to any intimate touch.
And so mother and son kept up the pretense that what they were doing now was all about keeping warm. The bra was unsnapped and removed with the excuse that it too wet. Similarly, both the outside and inside of Claire’s white thighs needed to have Harry’s hands run slowly and sensually over them to help with the warmth and blood flow. Then there was the excuse of “drying off” – although the rags were wet, Claire got a good rub-down over most of her near-nude body with them. It didn’t take long for both Harry and Claire to realize that the pretense of it all being about keeping the chills away could not longer be taken seriously – not with his hands gradually encircling and cupping her soft but high C-cup breasts and certainly not when his fingers caressing her erect red nipples. The holding and hugging made way to aggressive sexual foreplay, Claire letting out encouraging sighs of pleasure while her son rubbed his neck and face up against her, and inevitably it all progressed to having Harry slide his mother’s panties down her legs – without a hint of protest from her or reluctance on his part, and immediately after wriggling his long legs out of his briefs.
Claire spent a second taking in the notion that she was now completely nude and well past the point of no return with the foreplay, and reacted devil-may-care by throwing her arms back around his neck and her thighs back around his waist. Harry’s hands headed straight to Claire’s hips, he leaned down slightly to kiss his mother between her cleavage before slowly, gently pushing Claire’s thick, strong white thighs apart and maneuvering between them. He did this a little gingerly – a first and only questioning hesitation – watching his mother’s face as she gasped and smiled to confirm that this was what she wanted too. Harry ground his crotch against his mother’s pubis, first feeling the coarse tickle of her dense pubic hair and then with a bit of a twist to his hips, the wet, tender thrill of his mother’s labial folds enveloping him and guiding him deeper inside of her.