My mother’s eyebrows flick high on her forehead. “What are you thinking?” she breathes.
My throat swells with the answer I don’t dare to give her. If I tell her I’m thinking I’d love to suck on her tits it would be too open and too honest.
“Is it dirty?” she asks in a tone which sends a ripple of need through my core.
My jaw aches and I realise I’m clenching my teeth. “Not exactly,” I lie.
She pouts at me and chuckles. “Then what?”
“I was just thinking…”
When I shut up and shake my head she’s insistent. “You can’t leave it like that,” my mother insists.
“Mum, please,” I moan. “I … I can’t say.”
“Sean,” she cajoles. “You can tell me anything, babe. “I won’t be angry, I promise.”
I want to unburden. I want to tell her but I’m too afraid she’ll be disgusted if I reveal what’s on my mind.
“You will,” I say, avoiding her eyes.
Her eyes roll again as she says, “What is it with men?”
She whispers my name and I face her.
My mother fixes her attention fast on my face and, like she’s talking to a particularly slow learner she says, “What part of open and honest is so difficult for you to understand, Sean?”
My face warms. I fidget in my seat. “But–” I begin.
She’s on her feet, palms flat on the table. My mother leans forward and grinds out, “I thought we sorted this last night? It’s just us here, Sean. It’s our opinions which matter. Don’t worry about what anyone else might think. You can tell me. It’s better if I know.”
I seriously doubt it, but her body goads me into being braver than I might normally be. What she said goes a little way there, but it’s her breasts and the cinch of her waist which motivates me the most.
“It’s luh-like you are now,” I manage to stutter. “When I see your … your boobs. Your body … Mum … it’s making me mental. I keep seeing you nude and can’t help but think all this … this stuff.”
“So look at it,” she gasps, rising upright. The backs of her knees hit the chair and send it skriking across the tiles as she pushes it away. “Look at me all you need to, Sean. Don’t lock your feelings inside.”
I gawp at her, stunned, the amazement showing in my voice when I ask, “You really don’t mind?”
“I want to go nude in my house, and you said I could. If you want to look at me … then look. If you have to … take yourself off and sort yourself out, then do it, Sean. But I don’t mind you looking,” she breathes.”
“God, Mum; you’re beautiful,” I gasp.
###
I’m in my room cranking my dick when she comes in.
It’s a first. In the past my mother has always, always knocked.
“I thought so,” she says as I gape in surprise, my cock stuck in my fist.
Then it hits me. I realise just what it is that’s happened and I’m scrabbling for cover while my mother moves further into my room.
“You don’t have to stop,” she informs me. “I … I just want to watch.”
The stutter is the first indication I’ve heard she’s affected in any way. Not that I’m taking too much notice because I’m too busy yanking at the bedsheet jammed underneath my arse. What’s concentrating my mind is the most urgent need to get my hard-on out of sight.