The bond between a mother and son

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Mother and son, incest story, It’s late and I’m lying on my bed watching TV. I have the sound real low because my little brother and sister are asleep in their room just down the hall. I’m wearing a tee shirt and shorts because it’s August and still too hot to wear anything else or to sleep beneath the sheets.

I can hear the sound of the shower running in the room next to mine as my mom gets herself ready for bed. After a little while the house goes silent and I turn down the volume another notch just so that I don’t disturb anybody. I’m getting tired and drifting. Kind of in that place just before one day merges into the next through sleep.

My mom comes into my room a little while afterwards. It’s not that unusual. She likes to do that sometimes. She might sit with me a little while. We don’t talk much or anything but she stays with me for a time and then kisses me goodnight. It’s just feels good for us to be close at that time of day. I think we both enjoy that.

Life is tough for my mom. She has this thing about not letting things get her down, but I know how hard it must be. Especially now. Mom lies down next to me on the bed. She doesn’t speak but she smiles. I like that about her, she has the sweetest smile.

She’s wearing pyjamas. She looks pretty dressed like that. They are a deep blue colour and buttoned at the front. They are a little tight on her but somehow I like that. I don’t really know why. I know she worries about the way she looks. She jokes about her big ass and her big boobs. I tell her she looks incredible. Sexy and beautiful, especially now, but she just laughs a little and tells me that is so cute.

But it’s true. She’s 38 and to me she looks perfect. She’s about 5ft 8. She’s curvy and stunning. I adore her curves. Her hair is still slightly wet and she smells fresh from her shower. Her hair is amazing. She wears it long. It’s black and full, it suits her so well. But it’s her eyes that blow me away. Deep brown. A real perfect brown eyed girl.

But it’s more than the way she looks. She’s warm, intelligent and special. She’s somebody who understands how it feels. That’s why I feel the way I do about her.

I’m sitting up, resting against the board at the back of the bed. She does the same so that we are side by side. I like that.

“What are you watching baby?” Her voice is just a whisper, soft and kind.

It’s some old movie. Something from the fifties or sixties, I don’t know. I don’t respond because I don’t really think she wants me to. I feel like she’s happy just to sit here with me as we both watch in silence. Maybe the two of us sitting like this next to each other is all that matters.

She reaches one hand up and strokes gently over the back of my neck, spreading her fingers through my hair. She smiles again and tells me that I have nice hair and that I take after her. It feels good when she says that to me.

I can tell that she likes to do this. Sometimes, when there’s others around, she will touch me so that nobody notices too much. That hits me inside. She might brush her hand over my skin or press my shoulders a little. I like it best when she hugs me from behind. Once or twice, she has kissed my neck when she does that. That always feels so good. I’m used to her touching me like that and I ache for her to do it. She’s my mom, I love her touching me.

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