Mom and son are stranded at the airport

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I like to think it was caused by my grandfather’s unexpected passing; but in actual fact, the root cause of it all can be traced way before his death, when I started puberty to be exact. I, like many young boys, was infatuated with my mother. Under the influence of my raging hormones, I jerked off countless times while fantasizing of making love with the woman who raised me. I would even sneak and take her undergarments, naughty little devil that I was, to fuel my imagination.

The strange thing is, she knew about my secret, because she once removed one of her cum-stained pantie from the hiding place in my room, as I saw it in the laundry the next day. She never said or mentioned anything about it though, never gave a hint that she was disturbed or mad, or much less cared.

More than once I tried to get a glimpse at the intimate areas of her skin. Looking back, I guess she was just your average mom. At the time of the ‘incident’ she was 43, somewhat tall at 5’7, about 145 pounds, 38C breasts, with brown eyes and black hair which she liked to keep at a length above her shoulders. Her tits, like most mothers her age, had begun to lose the fight against gravity, but they were still firm for the touch as I later found out. She carried an extra portion of her weight around her ass and thighs, and that gave her a curvy figure. Not particularly a pretty face, I admit, but not bad-looking either. All in all, I thought she was sexy and attractive.

As for me, I recently turned eighteen at the time, but my frame still looked that of a thirteen year old due to the unfortunate delay in my growth spurt. Merely 5’3 in height, consisting of 110 pounds of video game muscle. I was also immature and naive in a lot of ways (still am) so I guess my child-like look was justified. Although fresh and innocent in appearance, little did anybody know I was very perverted underneath.

Anyway, to the story. Grandpa Paul, dad’s father, had all of a sudden died of a heart attack. Dad flew out to Denver the day he got the news. Mom and I would follow in two days because I still had school. We had always been close with grandpa, even though we only see him once or twice a year. He was a very likable old fellow.

We left for Denver two days later as planned. When we landed in Chicago to load off passengers and allow new ones in, we got stuck there by bad weather. The snow had caused a delay in our landing and now it would delay our takeoff.

A friendly ticket agent told my mother that it seemed unlikely for any plane to take off that night. The weather had gotten worse. He offered to book a room for us in case our flight was canceled. She hemmed and hawed but soon agreed.

The flight was indeed canceled.

We arrived at the hotel with many other passengers and were shown to our room. Mom said, “Well, Danny, it’s a good thing we got a room. I’m sure there are a lot of people stuck at the airport tonight.”

“Ahhh I know. I got a crick in my neck from just sitting on that seat. I’d hate to sleep there.”

“Well, sweetie, take a nice hot shower and go to bed. You’ll be fine.”

Rolling my neck in discomfort, we entered the room. My mother stopped in her tracks. “Ah excuse me, are you sure this is the right room?” she asked the bellhop.

“Yes ma’am.”

“There’s only a double bed.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, that is the room they assigned. I can call down and see if we can make a switch.”

“Would you please?”

The bellhop called and talked to the manager and got nothing. They were full and we were lucky to have a room. He left with an apology and a promise to talk to his boss. Meanwhile we settled in. We only had our carry-ons so we had no change of clothes or toiletries.

“I’m going down and get us some toothbrushes and things okay?”

“Alright mom.”

“Why don’t you take a shower?”

“Okay.”

In the shower I let all the tension in my body wash away but found it flowing right into my cock. Thoughts of sleeping with my mom in the small bed made me hard. I begun to stroke myself when there was a knock at the door.

“Yeah,” I called out.

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