“I love you,” she said quietly.
I stopped for a moment. “I love you too, Mum.” And we both knew what we really meant with those three words.
Eventually feeling worn out and with no urge to cum again, I stopped and we cuddled under the covers, my arms wrapped around her as she stroked my arms. We lay like that for a while before she turned around and her eyes were glistening, like she was crying.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m being silly, but I’m in love with a man and can’t tell a single soul about it because that man just happens to be my son. I want to stand on the rooftops and shout it out for everyone to hear, yet because of who I am and who you are, I have to keep it a secret.”
“I know how you feel.”
A crooked smile appeared. “Sorry, I was being selfish.”
I kissed her forehead. “No you weren’t. I understand how you feel but… I wouldn’t swap this for anything in the world.”
She stroked my cheek again. “Neither would I,” she stated before kissing me again.
We made love the rest of the night and into the early morning. I did wonder if anyone heard us, particularly when Mum or I yelled out who the partner may have been. Perhaps anyone who did hear us thought we were a simple pair of kinky role-players? In between rounds of lovemaking, we either cuddled under the covers or wandered out onto the balcony to view Paris under the lights. Mum even surprised me with a blowjob out in the open, before I upped the ante by fucking her against the railings, the sounds of my groin slapping against her butt cheeks almost echoing across the entire city. If that didn’t wake people, her moans certainly did.
I slept like a log once we finally went to sleep though wasn’t surprised to be gently woken by the feeling of a pair of lips around my cock. I motioned for Mum to turn around, swinging her legs around so her cunt was above my face. A pre-breakfast orgasm is always the best way to start the day, though sharing a shower with her after the act was even better as we washed each other down, no doubt both of us stinking of sex, cum and sweat.
We dressed and headed down for breakfast, the smile on mum’s face never leaving, and we received grins in return from all the staff and even other guests. Mum didn’t let go of my hand, even when we sat down though did grudgingly let go once we started eating breakfast. I think we were drunk on each other and completely in love. I know I stared at her from time to time as she’d stop and run a hand through her hair and over her ear, asking “What?” Each time, I just smiled and told her that I loved her. That simply broadened her smile. The urge to take her there and then on the table was almost overwhelming.
Sunday was almost a repeat of the previous day, spending most of the time wandering the city, finding small avenues off the beaten path, Mum spending time popping from shop to shop. One thing I had learned was her excellent command of the French language, leaving me feeling like a slight dullard as I barely knew a dozen words. Otherwise, we strolled hand in hand, spending time sitting by the Seine as we ate a casual lunch before Mum suggested she wanted to do more shopping. I wasn’t going to complain as she purchased one or two items of clothing that she would wear which were clearer bought for myself in mind.