A mother and son experience

When Andrew was younger everyone said he looked exactly like his father but this wasn’t necessarily true. Sure, he shared his Dad’s general build, his impressively wide shoulders, but now at eighteen it was increasingly evident that he got the lion’s share of his looks from his mother, In particular her eyes and high cheek bones. This very thought occurred to him as he was flicking through some vacation photos before bed.

His finger lingered over one photo in particular. He’d walked out of their hotel room and caught Katie, his mother in a moment of deep contemplation. He’d been momentarily stunned by her beauty and felt compelled to snap the picture. In the picture she was leaning against a palm tree, looking forlornly out at the rising tide. She’d been wearing a yellow sundress and her shapely figure was bathed in the golden light of the dying sun. How could they be so much alike but see the world so differently? His mother had everything going for her, looks, brains, the whole package, but she always played it safe, never taking any chances in life. Andrew, on the other hand, was always looking for the next big challenge.

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He touched the screen, zooming in closer on her face. Her dark eyes, delicate chin, and rosy red lips took up the entire screen. There was an undefinable quality in her expression that made her look beautiful but troubled, like a goddess in contemplation or a woman with a wounded soul.

He heard the creaking of hall floorboards. Smiling to himself, he tossed his tablet onto the nearby nightstand, snugged up his boxers, and adjusted his angle on the bed so that his back was against the headboard.

“Hey got a second slugger?” his mother whispered, tiptoeing into his room.

Andrew’s face lit up when he realized she had just taken a shower, her usually straight shoulder length hair framing her heart shaped face in damp blond curls. He liked the wet look.

“Sure Mom, No Problem!”

She shushed him, and pulled the door shut behind her.

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She was dressed for bed, sporting a simple nightshirt over a pair of white cotton panties. At 5’3″, 129 lbs. his thirty-eight year old Mother’s clothing choice did little to mask the curve appeal of her petite frame. If anything it accentuated them. As she moved to squat by his side her shirt rode up at her waist, causing the top to billow out, affording Andrew the perfect view of her cleavage.

“Why are we whispering?” he asks, fairly certain he already knew at least part of the answer.

“Your Dad’s watching TV, and I thought it was a good time for us to have a talk.”

“About?” Andrew asked raising an eyebrow. He was trying to play it cool even though he was tense with anticipation he kept his body relaxed. He felt like his heart was going explode out of his chest any second.

“About what you asked me earlier,” she blushed. “I should have given you an answer, not walked off in a huff. You caught me by surprise.” She said in a calm soothing voice as she took his hand in a practiced motherly manner and continued; “We can’t do that. I’m sorry. I know there’s been a strange uhm… energy between us lately, but no. Just no, Honey”

“But Mom-!”

“I can’t teach you those kinds of things.”

“What gives? I thought we were close, that you of all people would understand!”

A confused look fluttered across her face, “Me of all people? What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I can see what’s happening. You and dad have no kind of relationship. You guys don’t even sleep in the same bed most nights.”

“What does my and your father’s relationship have to do with anything?” she said, deflecting; “You’re a kid, you don’t understand the repercussions of what you’re asking me to do. Messing around with someone you’re related to, even just touching. If people found out they’d call it perverted, or worse, incest!”

“Mom, we’re both adults! Guys my age are hooking up with girls all the time, I’m just curious about an older woman’s body. What’s the harm in letting me just touch your breast? It’s not that big of a deal!”

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“No, you’re not a kid anymore,” she conceded, “and one day you’ll find the perfect girl and the two of you can figure everything out together. That’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“You weren’t listing. I’ve been with girls and done stuff?”

“Stuff?” this time it was his mother’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Yes Stuff. But they were all athletic-y, tall types. None of them have what you’ve got, what I might be missing out on! How would I know?”

“What do I have?” his mother said, giving him a flat look.

Andrew realized he’d stumbled into dangerous territory. “I don’t know? Something different, for one you’ve got…” Andrew trailed off. He was letting her get him worked up. He stood up. He was almost a head taller than his mother.

“How about this and this for starters!” As he spoke, he placed his right hand on her left hip and the other on her right breast.

His mother let out a startled breath, but didn’t step away. Underneath his hand he felt her nipple growing suddenly hard.

She took his wrist as if to pull his hand away, but instead crushed it tighter between them and leaned in, closer.

“You know this is wrong,” she whispered standing on tiptoes and nuzzling the side of his face with her own.

Andrew craned his neck, catching his mother’s dark eyes, trying to tell if she was messing with him, and was pleased by what he saw smoldering in their depths.

“Wrong doesn’t always mean bad,” He whispered back.

Returning his gaze, she gave a small nod and her nostrils flared. Their lips were mere centimeters apart. Andrew could feel his mother’s hot breath on his chin, and experienced and overpowering need touch her skin.

They had both been feeling the same primal pull, but Andrew had been the only one brave enough to take the first steps.

“Just touching?” Andrew asked in a breathless whisper.

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Their lips brushed, their mouths opened, they began to kiss.

There was a noise at the door.

Startled his mother took a nervous step away and cleared her throat.

Andrew’s Dad, Philip barged into the room unannounced. A balding middle age man, he was shorter than Andrew but taller than his mother.

Andrew’s Dad stood a little unsteady on his feet; He didn’t seem to notice the awkward silence or the guilty look on their faces.

“There you guys are. What the hell are you doing up here?” he bellowed and then, without missing a beat, “Never mind.” He drunkenly surveyed the room as if looking for ninjas hiding in the corners. “I’m out-a beer Katie, you know where the extra beers are?”

“Did you check the refrigerator in the carport?” his mother replied, her voice cold.

Andrew’s Dad sneezed and wiped his nose off on his own sleeve. “First place I looked.”

“I don’t know then, I guess there all gone,” his mother’s shoulders slumped, defeated.

“I’m going to hit the bar then, grab a few with the guys. Wanna get dressed and come along? It’s been forever since they’ve seen me with a pretty lady on my arm,” he said, like the idea had only just occurred to him. But it was evident to everyone in the room that this wasn’t the case. This same scenario had played out many times before.

Andrew’s Mother gave his Dad a nasty look. “It’s late. Why don’t you stay home with us? I’ll grab a new six pack from the store tomorrow,” she growled, “besides you’ve already been drinking. You shouldn’t drive.”

“Naaaa. I’m heading out you judgmental bitch. I’ll grab an Uber at the end of the road. Your loss.”

With that he turned and lumber back out not othering to close Andrew’s door.

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