It’s a goodnight kiss, that’s all. Just my mom wanting to feel close to me before we sleep.
She looks at me again after she has done that. She’s stroking her fingers back and forth across my waist, just above the waistband of my shorts.
“Does that feel nice honey?”
She speaks so quietly and so softly. I don’t really know if she wants me to answer. I look down at her face. It’s those eyes. There is something so special about those brown eyes. She waits for me.
“I love you mom, you know that don’t you?”
It’s not the answer to her question but it’s what I want to say to her. I do love her, of course I do. But, right here and now, I say it because I want her to know that I can sense a part of her that is just for me. I want to her to know that I can feel that and I want her to know that I am always here for her, especially now.
She puts her face back against my chest. Her touch seems a little more deliberate now. She makes circles across my stomach. The TV is still talking to me but it’s just a quiet noise without meaning. Instead, all of my senses are trained on her and her touch.
“You won’t ever leave me baby, will you?”
She sounds a little vulnerable when she says that. Maybe I shouldn’t, but it makes me feel good to know that she worries about being without me. I like her needing me that way.
“No mom, I promise, I’m going always be here for you.”
Her fingers edge up slowly as she moves her touch across my nipple. It sends a tremor through me. There is something about her touching me like that. It’s more than a simple physical touch. I can tell that she wants me to feel pleasure, a type of pleasure that is just for me. She is showing me she understands and that she knows how it feels.
She moves to kiss me again. Her lips are open just a little. She’s still touching me, still stroking my nipple with the tips of her gorgeous fingers. Her lips are soft and moist. She has kissed me like this before. This time though I want her to know. I want her to feel like I do. I want her to know that I don’t want this stop.
As she breaks the kiss there is a slight pause. Then, for the first time ever, I lean my face towards her and press my mouth to hers. It’s not forceful or urgent. Just deliberate.
She responds. Later, she will tell me how she has lain awake at night touching herself and thinking about me. Imagining my mouth against hers. Imagining the taste of me. Too scared to think about how she feels but needing me too much to ever kill the thought.
Our kiss is a little longer than the last. It’s gentle and it’s warm. As it ends and our mouths part, she waits a few seconds before pressing smaller kisses against my lips, as if she wants the end of this moment to be slow and gradual.
She takes her hand from beneath my shirt and moves herself upwards so that she is sat next to me again. I expect her to leave now and, for a few moments, I think she expects the same.
She looks at me again. The changing light and shadows from the movement on the TV screen flickers across the room, illuminating her face. I only realise how hard I am when I feel her hand move lightly across my shorts. She is touching me. My mom’s hand rubs across my penis and something inside of me triggers a deep and rich emotion. I love her but I know this different. I know that we shouldn’t be doing this. I’m certain we both know it’s something that shouldn’t happen. But her touch against me feels exquisite.
She stares at me as she rubs me through the material of my shorts. She isn’t smiling now and she isn’t speaking. She seeks out the shape of my hardness and presses her fingers either side pulling back slightly so that I get a rush of deep sweetness as she does that.
I feel like she needs me to do something. Like she needs me to show her that this OK and that I want to be part of this. I raise my own hand up and press it against one of her breasts. The feel of the stiffness of her nipple surprises me a little and I worry that I might have hurt her or something as my palm presses over it. I hear her let out a little gasp as I do that.
