Upon landing, we were escorted to our hotel, a grand old building that looked hundreds of years old. There was a concierge who welcomed us, a porter helped take our bags but it was when Mum introduced us as ‘Mr and Mrs Smith’ that made me do a double take. I managed to shut my mouth just in time from asking a question that would have put her foot in it as I could see the look in her eye as she spoke with the receptionist.
“Enjoy your time in Paris, Mr and Mrs Smith,” the receptionist stated.
“We plan on it,” my Mum stated and I swear the receptionist blushed as the insinuation in her tone was obvious. She glanced at me, fire in her eyes and I couldn’t help the gulp.
The room was exquisite, the bed in the middle of the room enormous as we walked out onto the balcony and took in the view.
“I want to go up the Eiffel Tower,” my Mum stated.
“Of course.”
“Would you be interested in visiting the Louvre?” I nodded. “Is there anything in particular you want to see?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Why don’t we just wander around and see where the day eventually takes us?”
“As long as we go up the tower, I don’t mind either way.” She leaned into me as we continued to take in the view. “Oh, one more thing, Andrew.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to fuck me this weekend. I think it’s about time, don’t you think?”
I just chuckled. “I know. I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
She kissed me again. “Just thought you should know what I really want.”
We spent all of Thursday hard at work, preparing for the conference the next day, managing to keep our hands off each other… for most of the time. There may have been a sneaky blowjob during lunch, while we did end up in bed together after a nightcap, spending a good hour enjoying the taste of my Mum’s pussy, bringing her to orgasm time and again. In the low light provided as we lay back once she claimed to be finally worn out, I couldn’t help but admire her beauty, drinking in her naked body. She even started to blush as my eyes wandered.
“I can’t believe my son looks at me with such… hunger in his eyes,” she said quietly.
“I’ve always thought you were beautiful, Mum. You know that.”
“What do you like best?”
I laughed. “That question’s a trap if ever I heard one.” But she gave me a serious look so I said “Your eyes.”
A broad smile appeared. “I was expecting you to say something else.”
“Oh, I appreciate every inch of you, from your tiny feet to your red hair, but when you look at me with that sparkle in your eyes, is it little wonder I’m lying here with you now, having just done what I’ve done, as a son to his own mother?”
She leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the lips. “No, I guess not,” she said quietly, “I sometimes have to pinch myself that my own son loves me in such a way. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Friday was a washout in the sense that we barely spent any time together, Mum in a series of meetings, as was I, not even managing to get together for our usual lunch while we were seated separately at dinner, though that didn’t stop us from sharing the occasional glance before she smiled at me, causing me to smile in return. I received one or two questions about who she was and I didn’t know what to say. But, considering some people may know who we may have been, I thought being honest would probably be the best course of action, particularly if news filtered back home and the last thing either of us wanted was awkward questions.