“If you have other dresses and look as beautiful in those as you do in this one, a dress every time.”
She intended to pat my thigh and give it a squeeze, she gave it a squeeze alright but it wasn’t my thigh. It took several seconds for her to realize what she was holding before she gasped and quickly removed her hand. Embarrassed, she turned her head away from me.
“Oh Remi I’m so sorry, what have I done, please forgive me, I never meant to do that.”
“Its ok mom there’s no need to be embarrassed, I liked that you did it, I wanted you to do it, I love you; I’m in love with you.”
All the time I’m talking to her I reached up and cupped her chin and turned her head back to face me then kissed her on the lips. Not a passionate kiss but certainly not the way a son should be kissing his mother. She allowed me to kiss her a second time, whether it was out of guilt for touching me or whether she just hadn’t recovered from my first kiss, I couldn’t say. I began to stroke her cheek then her hair at the side of her head. As I stroked her, each stroke was lengthened until I was stroking the full length of hair as it cascaded over her shoulder and down to her breast. Before mother realized it, I was cupping and squeezing her breast.
She seemed unusually calm about my holding and squeezing her breast, all she said was. “Stop it Remi you’re not supposed to do that I’m your mother, what would your father say if he found out?”
“You are my mother, but you are also a woman, a woman I love, a woman that I want to make love to. Tell me does my father still look and feel about you that way. He’s getting old, does he still touch you and make love to you?” She didn’t say anything, just looked at the ground.
“I didn’t think so, come on I’ll take you home.”
When we got home she said goodnight and headed for the stairs. I said to her.
“Wait a minute don’t I get a goodnight kiss for taking you out?”
“I think you’ve had your fair share of rewards for tonight, don’t you?” I just stood there watching her turn away and walk up the stairs, and waited to hear her bedroom door close.
Whatever you think, that Saturday night our relationship did change. Sunday morning and every other morning after that I would come down stairs put my arms around her waist and she would automatically decline her head so that I could kiss her neck. She would say. “Good morning darling.” Each night when I went to bed I would kiss her on the lips which she would return and say. “Goodnight darling.”
I wondered what I could do for the following weekend and came up with the brilliant idea to take her to one of my secret secluded river bank spots I found as a kid, and have a picnic. I asked her Wednesday evening if she would like to go on a picnic with me, she said “yes.” She seemed excited about it because according to her she had never been on a picnic and asked. “Where are you taking me?” I told her she would have to wait until Saturday and find out when we get there.
The hamper was already in the car when I called up the stairs to ask if she was ready, “Just a minute,” was the reply. There was a stirring in my pants when she stopped at the top of the stairs and twirled around. “How do I look” she said. I was taking in a vision wearing a short, red flowery, strapless sun dress, with the hem just above the knee.