Mother Son love story,
Tags: incest, mother-son
All sexual activity occurs between characters who are 18 years of age or older. I would like to acknowledge robertstream’s advice on the first chapter, and Todger65’s expertise in editing.
Sorry, no 42DD’s, 10″ appendages, or “on your six” approaches.
This story will be presented in 8 chapters. While writing this I could not help but think of all loving mothers who bade farewell to sons they reluctantly sent to war. A war from which they never returned.
*****
Chapter 1.
Let me tell you about Tina Silver. I’m her son, Tommy. She’s a feisty five foot one dynamo, about 105 pounds soaking wet. Her nickname says a lot, her friends affectionately call her ‘Pipsqueak’. She looks half her age and freely admits she shops in the young teenager section of the apparel stores. Mom has brown eyes, long black hair, swimsuit-model legs, narrow hips, small perky breasts and a room-illuminating smile.
Adversity, some would say tragedy, was visited upon Mom early in life. A week or two after turning eighteen she became pregnant with me. Her adoptive father’s reaction to being told she was pregnant was to say “You slut, all you had to do was keep your legs closed.” Her marginalized and clinically tranquilized adoptive mother said nothing in her defense. The young man’s pillar-of-the-community parents didn’t want a scandal; they made Mom’s father an offer he couldn’t and didn’t refuse. Banished to live with her grandparents she dropped out of school in her fourth month of pregnancy.
While her girlfriends were preparing for their high school prom, Mom was in labor with me. She undertook the role of mother with everything she had. She did not try to enroll again in high school as she felt stigmatized and had her hands full with me.
Mom’s grandparents were my grandparents too. They loved me and never tired of helping to raise me. Babysitting all day was their greatest pleasure. Call me a momma’s boy: they would laugh themselves silly every time they’d tell their favorite story: when I was six years old, Grandma asked me “When you grow up and get married, how many babies do you want to have? I turned to Mom and said “Momma, how many babies should we have?”
Sadly, when I was 12 years old, Grandma and Grandpa both got sick at nearly the same time and reluctantly moved into a retirement home. Grandma soon passed, Grandpa eagerly followed her a few weeks later.
Mom found us a place to be on our own. It was a tiny apartment, one bedroom, but had an extra room big enough for my bed and my belongings. Built in the loft of a large freestanding garage, it was quiet and had privacy from nearby neighbors. She spent every waking moment doting on me. She showered me with love, and in turn I worshipped the ground she walked on. We didn’t have much, but we didn’t care.
Mom was a great waitress and her customers adored her. Being on her own must have been hard, but she never complained. Knowing she met men every day, and fearful one of them would take her away from me, I told Mom told at every opportunity that I loved her. Each time she would smile, give me a hug, and tell me I was the only man she would ever want in her life. She never tired of the routine.
We loved to swim. One day, she wore a mommy-looking two-piece bathing suit. She saw me looking at a faded scar on her abdomen.
“Tommy, you were a big baby, and I am very small. I was in labor for 18 hours before they did a Caesarian. They had to cut me open to bring you to me. There were complications: you are my one and only, but you are also my first and last. If anything ever happens to you I will be alone forever. Please, be careful – you must promise me you will never do anything that will cause me to lose you. Alcohol, drugs, cars, please don’t do it. Even if your friends dare you, please don’t do anything risky. I cannot live without you.”
“I’ll be careful Mom, don’t worry.”
She smiled, but I could see she was deeply concerned and worried.
Like most testosterone-saturated teenage boys I had insatiable fantasies; their only subject was Mom. When she was out of the house I would explore the drawer where she kept her panties and bras. I’d spread them out on her bed and revel in looking at and touching them. This most unrighteous and unholy practice was repeated numerous times, until the day Mom came home early, and upon entering her room, found me in her room with her underwear arranged on the bed. Panicked, I blurted
“This is not what it looks like…”
It was clear even while the words were being spoken that it was a lame and dumb-ass thing to say. Her eyes were wide open; she was shocked. The only course of action for me was to drop to the floor and cover my face in shame.
“I am so sorry Momma.”
She reached for me, and gently lifted me up; kneeling in front of me she wiped my eyes while holding my head to her bosom in a most motherly manner. Mom’s voice was soft, sweet, and tender.
“Tommy, it’s alright, I understand. Don’t be ashamed. You are growing up. You’re at the age where you are obsessed with girls. Your body is changing, your hormones are raging, and you are no doubt confused by all of your feelings and emotions.”
She struggled to find the right words, and was nearly in tears.
“It’s not your fault, Tommy, it is mine. If I wasn’t a slut you would have a father, and he would be helping you to work through this challenging time of your life.”
The sound of the word was vulgar, profane, and dirty. All the more so coming from her lips – she would never say ‘hell’ or ‘damn’. Regaining her composure she said
“It’s normal for boys to be curious and have fantasies. Most of the women at work have shared similar stories about their sons. Let’s get ready for dinner, Ok?”
Trying not to whimper I said “It wasn’t right, I’ll never touch your things again. Please forgive me.”
“I already have. I love you more than you’ll ever know, and I always will.”
“Mom… please never say that word again.”
She didn’t ask for clarification of which word I was referring to. She tried to diffuse the tension with small talk. Breaking into her mischievous smile, pointing to the clothes on the bed she said “Tommy, which ones are your favorites?”
“Mom…”
“Tommy…”
“Mom, please…”
“Tommy…”
Sheepishly pointing to her sheer cyan satin panty and bra I could barely get out the words
“Only angels wear things so beautiful.”
She seemed taken aback by my response.
“Those are my favorites too. But Tommy, I am your mother. It’s not a good thing for you to think about me in in that way.”
Wanting to argue that point, but feeling her good graces had been pushed to the limit, I kissed her cheek and said ‘sorry’ again. I slithered away to set the table for dinner.
If there were any lingering repercussions, Mom never let on. Her privacy was never again violated, but thereafter, whenever they were washed, her cyan panty and bra were neatly folded and placed prominently on the top of the laundry stack.
Chapter 2.
High school graduation was quickly approaching. Not wanting to leave Mom, I decided to enlist in the local Army National Guard. The first week of June, just after my eighteenth birthday I raised my right hand and was scheduled for ten weeks of basic combat training in July. Mom was relieved that I’d be staying close. She said it would be hard for her not being with me, especially for ten long weeks. A few nights later, we were lying on the couch, not paying much attention to the TV. Mom was in front of me, dressed in jeans and a tank top. Turning to face me, I innocently ran my hand up and down her back. The subject got to my remaining senior class activities.
“Tommy, aren’t you going to go to your senior prom next week? You really should go, you only get one chance. I’ve always wished I could have gone to mine.”
“I don’t think so, Mom. I’ve never had a girlfriend and I don’t want to ask someone who doesn’t care about me or only wants someone to take her to the prom.”
“Tommy, surely there must be someone you’d like to ask.”
“There might be… no.”
“Well…”
“There is maybe one…”
Excited now, Mom said
“Well, who?”
Turning Mom so her back was to me, starting at her shoulder, on her back with my finger I wrote out the letter “M”.
“Mary Higgins? Tommy, she’s trouble.”
“No…”
In the middle of her back I wrote out the letter “O”.
“Monique Anderson? She seems nice enough, but I don’t see her being your type.”
“No…”
On the lower part of her back, I wrote a bold capital letter “M”.
Mom looked at me, and turning so we were face-to-face, she held me in a huge hug. Her legs pressed tightly into mine, and I could feel her petite breasts pressing into my chest.
“That’s such a wonderful thought, but Tommy, I couldn’t.”
“Sure you could.”
She recited a long list of excuses, including “I shouldn’t”, “It wouldn’t look right”, “What would the chaperones think”, “Your friends will think it is weird”, “We can’t afford a limo” and “What would I wear?”
When we arrived at the prom in our beat-up but waxed and detailed car, Mom was wearing a hemmed-up borrowed bridesmaid gown and appeared to be a candidate for prom queen. She looked much younger than her age; her petite-ness and perky ‘up high’ breasts gave her the body of a teenager. With her beautiful complexion, lightest of makeup and shiny straight black hair, she fit right in with the other girls who were made up to the hilt and dressed to the nines. We received plenty of envious looks. Mom had a great time; we danced every dance. The chaperones swooned at the young couple in love.
“You make such a lovely pair” one of them said to us. Mom blushed, but she was absolutely thrilled.
It was a textbook case of arrested development: Mom’s life had been put on hold at age 18; tonight was her grand ‘push play to resume’ moment. Two awkward emotionally-aged eighteen-year-old innocents relished every minute of the senior prom rite-of-passage.
We skipped the after-prom activities, and went straight home. We got ready to watch movies and settled in on the couch. Mom wore her new cotton robe over what I was pretty sure was her cyan bra and panty. We were on our left sides, Mom a bit lower on the couch. Reaching for the remote to turn on the TV, Mom interrupted and said we first needed to share a special after-prom kiss.
It was really special.
When it was over we both felt more than a little awkward about what we should or should not do for an encore. The TV was on, but neither of us paid much attention to it. Mom smiled, then sighed and rolled face down toward me while I ran my hand more-or-less innocently from her neck to the small of her back. My eyes were closed and I was really lost in the moment when Mom stirred. We both repositioned ourselves; all sense of time and place became irrelevant. The next upward movement of my hand ran it inadvertently over her breast as my fingers instinctively cupped it. She let out a guttural moan and her body shuddered from head to toe. My heart stopped and neither of us breathed for a few seconds. Eyes wide open, I looked at Mom for her reaction. Our eyes locked, but her face gave no clue what she was thinking. Gently, she took the errant hand, brought it to her lips and kissed it.
“It’s alright, Tommy, these things can happen when two people are so close.”
Pondering whether she meant ‘in relationship’ or ‘proximity’, before her words could be completely parsed she rather abruptly said “Good night Tommy.”
After a rather perfunctory kiss, she moved quickly to her room. Sitting on the couch I felt like a total idiot. Alone and dejected I tried to contemplate what had just happened. I heard her crying. Surely I had broken her trust and she was disappointed in me and I anguished over what I should do. Gathering up every ounce of my courage I knocked lightly and opened her bedroom door. She was face down on her bed with a pillow over her head muffling her sobs. Kneeling down at the side of her bed my hand gently caressed the back of her neck.
“Mom, I’m so very sorry. Honestly…”
“Tommy, it’s me who should be sorry, not you. There’s nothing for you to apologize about.”
She pulled the pillow off her head and moved to my side of the bed. Grabbing a tissue I tenderly wiped her swollen eyes. She put her hand behind my neck and pulled me to her, bestowing another special kiss.
“Tommy, I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
“I love you too, Mom. Please don’t cry, please come back and watch the rest of the movie with me.”
She seem conflicted, but then she smiled and said “Alright Tommy, I will. I love you.”
On the couch, spooned in front of me, Mom soon fell asleep. Taking my arm off her long enough to use the remote to turn off the TV, she stirred, and she put her hand over mine. Soon we both were asleep, holding each other close. Neither of us ever brought up the subject of her crying that night.
We spent most nights together watching TV and talking. Being eighteen and oh, so extra-virgin, and obsessed with all things love and sex, my questions were always thinly disguised in the context of her.
“Mom, how do you know if a girl wants you to kiss or touch her?” With a rueful smile she hesitated before giving what sounded like a confession.
“Tommy, I’m afraid I really can’t help you much, I’m no expert. My only real experience was my first – and last – formal date. I had just turned eighteen; we were both starting our senior year in few weeks. I was a skinny, flat-chested girl that none of the boys ever paid attention to. When he asked me to go to a movie I was a nervous wreck. My girlfriends helped me with my makeup and hair, and they picked out the clothes for me to wear. Everything that happened was my fault, really. After the movie we ended up alone in his car. I shouldn’t have let him take me parking, I mean, first date and all. Good girls don’t act that way, but he was so charming that it didn’t seem wrong.”
Mom was distant, vividly reliving the past.
“He told me ‘You’re so beautiful.’ No one ever said that to me. ‘I’ve had a crush on you for a year. I’m so happy you went out with me’. He had my heart soaring to the stars. I loved the feeling of kisses and being held by him. Then he started to get really touchy-feely and I got scared. He began to turn from the boy of my dreams into an aggressive monster. He kept grabbing at me and soon he discovered I was wearing a padded bra. He laughed at me.”
She shook her head and wiped tears from her eyes.
“He laughed at me.”
Reaching for Mom I held on to her for dear life.
“He said ‘What kind of stupid slut would try to get a guy with fake tits?’ He was so cruel. He kept saying horrible things, it was worse than what he did to me.”
She composed herself somewhat.
“Nine months after that night I had you in my life. You must know this: you were worth it. If that’s what I had to go through to find the love of my life it was worth it. No regrets, none at all. I love you more than you’ll ever know. I always will.”
I concluded no voices from the Nine Choirs of Angels were in attendance singing joyfully during my conception. How much Mom had been through! Her first date rapes her physically and psychologically. Her father, the one man who should have helped her heal from the trauma, rubs salt in her wounds and abandons her. Both of these A-holes made sure her wounds festered by planting the thought in her head that she was an s-l-u-t. Karma: may they both be bent over when receiving theirs.
Mom was two personalities; one, a scared and confused eighteen year-old girl; the other, a mother who was solemnly committed to do whatever was best for her son. I thought it best not to ask any more questions.
“Mom, let’s go for a walk. There’s supposed to be a spectacular meteor shower tonight.”
There wasn’t, but it was a little lie for the greater good. We only saw one shooting star, but walking hand in hand and oh-so-close, we had a great time and it did wonders for her soul.
A week before my basic training we were in the kitchen. Mom was in a good mood, so I asked “Mom, do girls think about romance and those things as much as boys do?”
“Hmmm…no, absolutely not. Unlike boys, girls often let their thoughts go to other things – even practical things.”
“Ouch! That hurt, Mom.”
Laughing, she said “You walked right into that one; watch where you’re going next time.”
Venturing a more serious question, “Mom, did you ever go on dates when I was a kid?
Mom looked into my eyes. Frowning, she said “Define ‘date’. They took me to nice places, but I took my time to see what their intentions were. It was pretty clear they all thought single mothers were an easy mark so I gave up on dating. I knew I’d never find a respectable man. No respectable man would date a slut that got pregnant before she could finish high school.”
Raising my voice to my mother for the first time of my life I said “Mom, stop it! I hate that word – it doesn’t even apply to you.”
Startled, she composed herself and finished her thoughts.
“Anyway, men aren’t attracted to women like me. I have small hips. I’m barely past a training bra. I look like a 10-year-old boy wearing a wig. You love me Tommy, that’s more than enough for me. You are the only man in my life. I know you love me and will never hurt me. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
“Mom you are beautiful. You are so cute and feminine. When we’re out together men can’t keep their eyes off you. Any man would fall in love with you at first sight… I did a long time ago.”
Mom gracefully approached me. Warmly she gave me a most beautiful hug. On tiptoes she reached for my face, pulling it to her and caressing it with both hands she kissed me on my lips. It was unlike any kiss we’d shared before – even the after-prom kiss – or one that I had even dreamt possible. Moving her hands from my face, she embraced me again. Her pert breasts were warmly pressed against me. It was the most sensuous feeling this hopelessly socially-inept virgin ever experienced. We were in no hurry to end the embrace.
Looking me in the eyes Mom said “I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
One last tender kiss on my lips, with a sigh she went to her room. I stood there, dizzy with emotion.
**********
The night before leaving for basic training was bittersweet. We again spent the evening on the couch. After a few hours, Mom excused herself, went to her room, and returned adorned in her white satin robe. When she reached over to pass our photo album to me, her partially opened robe revealed her beautiful cyan bra underneath. My heart rate doubled; was it a coincidence she wore it? We cuddled, hugged and kissed, and I began rubbing my hands up and down her back. She melted into me. After a few minutes of this, she made a low moaning sound, got all flustered and went into the kitchen. She returned few minutes later.
Near midnight she said “We’d better go to bed. You need your sleep for your big day. Will you tuck me in and kiss me goodnight?”
She smiled and went to her room. I nervously waited a few minutes, and when I got to her room her robe was neatly folded on her dresser and she was under the covers.
“Please Tommy, one last kiss and a hug.”
Lying down beside her, on top of the covers, we were face to face. I tenderly kissed her lips. My right arm over her, we savored the moment. I wanted this to last forever.
The sun was rising when the alarm went off. Mom was under her covers with my arm still draped over her. Technically speaking, I had spent my first night in bed with a woman. Better yet: it was with Mom!
Feeling much closer to becoming a man than the day before, I reported for basic combat training.
Chapter 3.
After my return from basic training there were changes in Mom’s interactions with me; it wasn’t so much physical, as emotional. Perhaps understandably she was seeing me more as an adult. We worked together to develop a career plan for the next few years while I fulfilled my Guard commitments. Confident an academic calendar could be worked around a weekend warrior’s schedule, with Mom’s steadfast encouragement, in September I started classes at the local community college. They would not be completed.
The Army National Guard’s ‘One weekend a month, two weeks a year’ is a slogan, not a guarantee. The Commander-in-Chief’s ‘Mission Accomplished’ wasn’t. My battalion was mobilized in November and we were sent for additional training. Returning back in time to celebrate Christmas with Mom, we had ten days together before my unit was to be deployed to Iraq.
The night before my deployment was painfully poignant. Mom was barely able to come to grips with what was happening. She was desperately trying, and not fully succeeding, to be brave. Two weeks a year away was bad enough for her- she most certainly hadn’t signed up for me being sent to a combat zone for a year-plus tour of duty. Watching the nightly news she did not share her son’s teenage-testosterone-driven opinion that he was invincible and bullet-proof. We’d never been apart except for my recent training and now her son was being sent overseas to an increasingly hostile and dangerous place.
We went out to eat, and when we got home we dressed for bed and the spent the next hours together quietly on the couch. Mom had changed into her white satin robe, it was sheer enough that the cyan panty and bra were discernable underneath. Mom looked especially desirable and beautiful tonight. Her petite breasts were fuller, and her nipples more prominent than they’d ever looked… not that a son should notice such intimate details about his mother. Time flew by and we held each other trying not to think about how long it would be until we were together again. Sharing hugs and kisses we slipped lower on the couch until we were lying face-to-face.
Running my fingers up and down Mom’s back through her satin robe felt so erotic. Mom brought her face into my neck then moved up and kissed me, holding me tightly. Her perky breasts pressed firmly into my chest; it took herculean effort to keep from reaching down to caress them. Fidgeting to keep my painfully erect manhood from poking her we held each other like we never wanted to let go. The fewer remaining minutes we had left, the faster each one passed.
Reluctantly Mom said “Tommy it’s midnight; you have to report to the Armory in eight hours.”
We leaned into each other for a final, special, memorable kiss. Then, oh so reluctantly, we separated. Being above Mom on the couch, when rising up her breasts brushed from the top of my chest toward my waist. Through my pajamas I could feel my briefs-tented manhood move up her legs until it snapped, like an interlocking piece of finely crafted machinery into the junction of her legs and V-temple of her sex. Mom let out a sigh, our eyes met, we paused, momentarily frozen in place. It took all our strength to separate our bodies. That not-fully-understood feeling would be replayed in my mind every waking moment of my deployment.
After a very long and very cold shower I put on fresh briefs and I went to my bed. Half asleep I thought I must surely be dreaming when Mom got under the covers with me for the first time in ten or so years. She whispered “Please hold me.”
While warmly embracing her it didn’t take long to process the fact that Mom was wearing only her cyan panty and bra. The sensation of our bare legs touching, my hand on her bra strap, and her satin covered breasts against my chest was like an electric shock.
Sensing my reaction she said “I want to be as close to my son as a mother could possibly dare to be without crossing the line. It will be so long before I see you again.”
She paused and softly continued “It’s really wouldn’t be sin to be in bed together like this if we don’t make love.”
She didn’t sound too confident in her reasoning; it sounded much more like a question. Moving my hands up and down her back, the sensation of her satin bra strap over her bare back was enough to make the hair on my neck stand on end, not to mention what it did to the other guy. Not knowing what do or say, I held her tightly. Reaching up and putting my hand on the back of her head, gently pulling her face next to mine, we kissed. Can a kiss be both passionate and chaste?
“I love you, Tommy. You must take care and return to me. I cannot live without you.”
Here I was an eighteen year-old virgin, in bed, under the covers, with the most perfect woman in the world. It seemed so normal and natural to be so intimately close; really, the most natural thing in the world. Mom’s warmth, scent, breathing, sensuous body, and skin-on-skin contact was more than a little distracting; sleep took its sweet time arriving.
Too soon it was morning. We hadn’t – I wanted to believe – sinned, so I thanked God for these past hours. I prayed for Mom’s protection and to be safely returned to take care of her forever. Mom was soon stirring, we gazed into each other’s eyes and our lips found their mark. Untangling ourselves was sweet agony. We reluctantly separated our bodies, and lastly, our lips.
After a quick breakfast and another round of hugs and ‘I-love-you’s’, Mom dropped me off at the Armory.
After a last tender goodbye kiss I said “I’ll write to you every chance I get.”
“I’ll reply to every letter. Put the back of each one to your lips to get my kisses.”
I headed into the abyss. I dared not look back as I knew Mom was crying. The walk from Mom’s car to the Armory gate was the longest journey of my young life.
Chapter 4.
When we reached our assigned base of operations, there was an immediate appreciation of the true depth and nuanced meaning of the adjective ‘shithole’.
Quoting Google:
“shit•hole
ˈSHitˌhōl/
noun
vulgar slang
noun: shithole; plural noun: shitholes; noun: shit-hole; plural noun: shit-holes
1. An extremely dirty, shabby, or otherwise unpleasant place.”
That about covers it. Even without mentioning the god-awful smells, suicide bombers, bullets and IEDs. God help us all.
Keeping my word I wrote to Mom and emailed and called her at every opportunity. Almost every day a letter would arrive from her – sometimes two – and any remaining room on each page was filled with “I love you” and images of hearts and smiley faces. She had been doing this for months. Poor Mom, she had far too much free time.
**********
An Army National Guard unit and its light equipment were being repositioned. Flying conditions were as ideal as could be hoped for in Iraqi airspace. Four CH-47 Chinook helicopters were flying single-file formation under blue skies to an outpost in southern God-Forsaken-Land. Three of them would reach their destination.
At the sound and shock of the initial impact and explosion, everyone onboard shared a common thought: seconds to live. As we wildly plummeted to the ground the images of my comrade’s faces were etched into my mind.
Some men screamed. Some men sobbed. Some men covered their eyes. Some men made the sign of the cross. Some men were silent because they were in shocked disbelief. Some men were silent because they were so paralyzed by fear they could not articulate sound.
Facing certain death is a solitary experience, even when you are not alone. Each of us faced death in our own way, but no doubt each one of us was calling out to our mother. No man called out more desperately for his mother than did the son of Tina Silver.
**********
A busy waitress hears bits and pieces of numerous conversations, and pays them little heed.
When a unit takes casualties, word travels fast and people back home know.
Mom, as always, was working enthusiastically. Focused on her work she did not notice the whispering and concerned looks she was getting from customers and co-workers. Her shift over, she was almost out the door when a man she did not recognize caught her eye and pointed to his cup. Smiling, she grabbed a carafe and poured coffee for everyone at the table; “four helicopters” and “our guys from the Armory” were two more barely-registered strings of words.
Back at home and after a long day and another lonely meal, Mom was reading my most recent letter. Holding it close to her heart she then authored her loving reply. When the last “I love you” was squeezed in, the envelope was sealed and kissed. Retiring to her bed she turned on her nightstand radio. She wasn’t paying much attention until the news anchor said “In other news, the Pentagon announced today that four Chinook helicopters came under attack by shoulder-fired rockets near the Iraqi city of Fallujah. One helicopter was brought down with heavy casualties. Further details are being withheld until notification of next-of-kin.”
In a moment of shocked clarity, instantly connecting the dots, knowing only one group from the local Armory was deployed in Iraq, she barely made it to the bathroom before violently retching into the toilet. Sensing her life ending, she collapsed to the bathroom floor as her life with her son flashed before her eyes. Crying uncontrollably, the cold hard tile most cruelly accentuated her pain. With each passing hour her panic and anguish increased – she desperately prayed she would not be visited by members of the military carrying out the most dreaded of assignments. Mercifully, with loyal co-workers standing vigil, the next day she received an official call and was told I had been medevac’d to a field hospital in Balad, north of Baghdad. Days later, she was told that I was at the U.S. military hospital complex in Landstuhl, Germany.
One of the survivors, I had gotten off easy: a concussion; puncture wounds, numerous cuts, bruises and sprains; cracked and broken ribs; and a serious injury to my left eye. I awoke with no idea where I was, or how I got there. My right eye had been covered to reduce the movement of my injured left eye – blindness amplified my disorientation and fear. I heard distant female voices and called out “Mom, is that you? I can’t see… Mom…”
Two nurses quickly came to my side to comfort me, and apprise me of the situation. I’ll never forget their concern, gentle care, and kindness. Nurses: they do God’s work, just like his angels.
The next day, when the staff were sure I had my wits about me they made a call for me to Mom. I thought it best not to mention the full extent and details of my injuries.
“Hi Mom… I love you… I’m in Germany… I’m fine… just a few bumps and bruises… I love you… I’m fine… I love you.”
It was a short and one-way conversation. I talked, Mom cried.
The days in Germany dragged on in slow motion. My good eye now uncovered, I settled into the routine, steadily recovering. One fine day, without advance notice I was headed stateside. During a long flight on a C-17 Promise Keeper to Andrews Air Force Base, as I mingled with my fellow patients and tried to help out I came to realize just how fortunate I was. I vowed to never complain about anything. Ever. Arriving at the hospital, the first thing I did was to call Mom. It was eight in the morning for her.
“Hi Mom – I love you. I’m at Walter Reed… I’m going to be here for a while… I can’t wait to come home to see you.”
We talked until one of the staff motioned to me that it was time for me to go.
“Mom, I’ll call you again tonight around 8 or 9 o’clock your time.”
At midnight local I called her. Knowing she went to bed early, when she didn’t pick up the phone I wasn’t surprised, and I went to bed. When I woke up at 0600 I had hearty breakfast. At 0800, one of the staff asked “Who wants more coffee?”
“I do – outstanding idea!” was my enthusiastic reply.
A moment later, coffee was being brought to me by a beautiful, petite, black-haired angel streaming tears of joy. “Tommy” was the only word she could say.
Call me a momma’s boy: seeing her made me cry too. The coffee was stone-cold long before we were finished hugging and kissing. Without hesitation or conditions, she had once again put her life on hold and traveled all day, night, and morning to take buses, trains, red-eye flights, taxis, and shuttles to be by my side. Mom spent every possible moment with me. It would have been so much worse without her loving presence.
After my retinal re-attachment surgery was declared a success I was told I would be discharged from the hospital. A patch would be needed to be worn over the eye, with extra care taken not to subject it to trauma. The surgeon told me “You got the million dollar wound.” Meaning, not bad enough to screw-up the rest of my life, but it effectively meant my active duty commitments were fulfilled. I was given a Purple Heart and orders to report back to my National Guard Armory in 30 days.
Mom was so happy. With a smile warm enough to melt an iceberg she said “Tommy, I think it would be a good idea to spend a few nights at my hotel so you can gain more strength for the long flight home.”
My head spun as I contemplated the possibilities. All I could say was “Mom, if we’re together, where doesn’t matter.”
Chapter 5.
It was a short taxi ride though afternoon rush hour traffic from Walter Reed to the hotel. Sitting closely, we held hands and enjoyed our togetherness. Nothing needed to be said; we shared the same thoughts.
Mom had been treating me differently; the way she looked into my eyes; the way she placed her arm into mine when walking; the way she leaned against me when we stood side-by-side; the way she asked my approval for the decisions she was making; the way she referred to me to as her ‘man’. Was I becoming the boyfriend and lover she never had? I fondly reminisced about our mostly-innocent yet oh-so-tantalizing night together before my deployment. Before hastily rushing off to the airport, did Mom pack her cyan satin panty and bra?
The hotel room was small, but comfortable, with a queen bed, sofa-bed, and TV. It was reserved for five more nights. Mom wanted to stay up and talk but it was late, and we had planned to go sightseeing in the morning. She concluded it was time for us to call it a night.
“Your ribs are still sore. You can sleep on the bed, it will be much more comfortable. I’ll sleep on the sofa-bed.”
My first choice for sleeping arrangements would have been quite different.
“Mom, my ribs are fine… really, they never felt better.”
Smiling warmly, hands on hips, with mock indignation she said “Tommy, it’s not nice to argue with your mother.”
I gave her my best “Awww Mom” and went into the bathroom. After a shower and putting on clean briefs and a t-shirt, I got into bed. Leaning over she lovingly tucked me in and kissed me. Her lips felt warmer, wetter, and were held against mine longer than any previous kiss we shared.
“Rest, Tommy, you must get strong. I’ll check on you after I get cleaned up and make up the sofa bed.” I didn’t think I was that tired, but wrapped in the luxury of my first civilian bed in ages, before she had even started her shower, I was asleep.
I awoke at zero-dark-hundred. Mom was spooned in front of me, my arm around her, reprising that glorious night before my deployment. She was wearing only a bra and panty – there was no need to turn on a light to know their color was cyan. Glancing around the room I could see the sofa-bed had not been made up. Iraq was halfway around the world and a million miles behind me. As sleep returned it was clear things were looking up.
An explosion. Noises, loud beyond the threshold of pain. Screaming, shouting, rushing wind, straining turbines, banging metal, tilting, turning and falling. Added to the cacophony of chaos a voice desperately shouted “Mom, I love you, Momma!”
A horrific sickening sound of impact and crushing metal. Suddenly, only the sound of muted sobbing and moans of pain remained. It was surreal. Everything became quiet. I found myself cradled in the arms of an angel who was lovingly holding me to her bosom. My angel spoke with a voice familiarized over a lifetime.
“I heard you call me. You knew I would answer and come to you. You are safe now Tommy, you are safe. Sshhh. You are safe with your mother. She loves you. She will never let you go. Sshhh.”
She continued with her reassuring and caring words.
When I finally relaxed, Mom lay me down on the bed and whispered “Sleep, Tommy, sleep. Let me hold you. I love you more than you’ll ever know. Sleep, Tommy, sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Looking up, my life with her flashed before me. Seeing her even through only one good eye, she never looked more beautiful.
She needed to know this: “Mom, all the way down to the ground all I thought about was you.”
“I know Tommy. I know. I love you. Sleep Tommy. I love you. Sleep my beloved, sleep.”
Mom’s warmth, scent, breathing, sensuous body, and skin-on-skin contact was so comforting. Sleep arrived quickly. When I awoke, Mom was spooned in front of me. Her hand clutched mine to her satin-covered breast. She slowly stirred. Opening her eyes, smiling warmly, she made no effort to move my hand.
“Tommy, it is so good to wake up to you. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
I savored the moment. After giving her the warmest of kisses, I moved back to bask in the radiant warmth of her beauty. The look on her face was pure angelic serenity.
“Mom, stay in bed. There’s a coffee shop across the street; it’s my turn to bring you coffee.”
When I returned, Mom was still in bed, smiling sweetly, sitting up, bedsheets demurely held to her chest. What is it about serving coffee? The look on my beautiful angel’s face made me shed tears of joy of my own.
Chapter 6.
We went sightseeing most of the day, then a light dinner. Arriving at the hotel we cleaned up before spending time on the sofa. Lying side by side, my hand was alternating between rubbing her neck and running up and down her back. Her body undulated to my every touch and she made no attempt to hide how much she enjoyed it.
“Tommy, after you were gone I felt so guilty about the way I acted the night before your deployment. I crossed the line again last night. A mother shouldn’t be practically naked in bed with her son. It’s against all the rules; it’s so wrong.”
“Mom, take it easy on yourself. Remember? You said it wasn’t wrong if we didn’t make love.”
“Tommy, I’m not sure. There are rules, and if I didn’t break them, I surely bent, dented, and twisted them.”
I gave her the best ‘no you didn’t’ look possible with only one working eye.
“When you had your nightmare last night I was so worried for you. I can’t bear the thought you’ll have another one without me close by… I think I should sleep next to you for a few more nights. Would that be alright with you?”
My heartbeat increased dramatically; I smiled and said “Like you said – ‘it’s not nice to argue with your mother.'”
“I think it will be best, but I’ll dress more appropriately.”
I wanted to tell her that wasn’t necessary, but I said “It will be nice to have you near. Hopefully I won’t wake you up in the middle of the night again.”
I kissed her, and went to use the bathroom and shower first. Changing into briefs I went to bed and waited anxiously for Mom. She was wearing pajamas when she joined me under the covers, facing me with our arms draped over each other. We kissed and hugged. Mom caressed my face and gave me a passionate kiss. Running my fingers from her neck to the small of her back made her squirm with pleasure; from touch I could tell she was wearing a granny and a cotton underwear underneath her pajamas.
One kiss led to another and they grew in intensity. My hand reached down over Mom’s hip pulling us tightly together. Kissing her passionately she returned the sentiment. As we continued to kiss, Mom’s tongue licked my lips! The sensation made me practically levitate above the bed. She looked at me like she thought she had done something wrong.
“I’m sorry, Tommy. I guess I got carried away.”
“Mom, it was wonderful.”
Kissing her again, this time I put my tongue between her lips. Mom let out a soft moan. We looked into each other’s eyes. Another kiss; this time our tongues made contact, gently probing the limits of each other’s. The feeling was unbelievable; our hearts began pounding in unison. Mom pulled away a little bit and tried to catch her breath. She said “I… never… he tried to…”
“It was wonderful. You’re the only woman in my life; everything with you is my first.”
We went back for seconds, and soon our tongues were playing off each other’s in a wild ecstatic celebratory dance. We were deliciously losing control, neither of us was worried about maintaining it. Mom began to shudder and pulled back, she was clearly conflicted.
“Tommy, I love you so much. I don’t know what to do. I love you with all my heart but I am your mother. You are my son, but I love you so much more than that. What are the acceptable limits of a mother’s love for her son before she crosses the line?”
“Mom, you can never do wrong with me. I love you – I always have and I always will. Every new day with you is better than the one before.” We lay there, content with our closeness. Mom took my hand in hers, and bringing it to her lips she kissed it tenderly. Moving it away from her lips she placed it over her breast, holding it to her in firm embrace. My hand instinctually cupped and caressed the beautiful firm orb. She made no attempt to stop me. I ran my palm and fingers over it, reveling in the sheer pleasure of the sensation of the treasure in my hand. Her breathing became deeper and faster, her heart began to pound, and her passions quickly intensified. When I gently played with her nipple her whole body reacted from head to toe. Her knees were crossing over each other, and she was grinding into my now totally rock-hard manhood. Turning herself into me we continued our chaotic contortions face-to-face, sex-to-sex.
On top of her now, we were kissing with ever-increasing urgency. With one hand I was undoing the buttons on her pajama top. My knees were together, between her outstretched legs. Still clothed, we began to move our bodies rubbing our sex in instinctual simulated intercourse. I was caressing her breast through her bra, and she was lifting her knees toward our shoulders to increase our sexual contact and pleasure. Her moaning turned to whispered sentences and I could only make out a few words:
“Oh… oh… no… please… darling… my son… oh… don’t… please… mother… oh… Tommy… ahhh… remember the… we can’t… oh… wrong… I… oh… forgive me… cried every night… mmm… sin… beautiful child… only man… crossing a line… my life… love you… Tommy.”
Being the inept and totally inexperienced virgin, even through three layers of clothing the contact of my throbbing manhood on her sex was too much: I ejaculated into my briefs. I collapsed on top of Mom, rolled to her side and asked “Did I stop too soon?”
Of course I did.
“No Tommy, you were wonderful. Everything was wonderful. Please hold me.”
After a long while, she said “Tommy, we should get cleaned up, you first. Then we need to talk.”
This did not sound like it was going to end well.
After a quick shower I got back into bed and waited in total dread for what Mom was going to want to talk about. I had ruined everything by acting on my selfish sexual desires. I was greedy in my demands and needs. I took advantage of Mom’s good graces by pushing her too far, too fast. This would be the last time she would join me in bed. I knew I had screwed up big-time.
When Mom came back to bed we lay side by side, my left arm pulling her closely to me. She nuzzled into me and put her hand behind my head, pulling us closer. Reluctantly she began to speak.
“Tommy, I love you more than you’ll ever know. You are the only man in my life. After all we’ve been through, loving you so much, missing you for so long, worrying about you, and thinking that I had lost you… Tommy, I went completely over the line. I lost all control. I know I just acted like a slut but…”
A hand placed firmly over her mouth stifled all subsequent words. It was clearly time to test and define the new parameters of our relationship. Mom would not be harmed, but this needed to be done and it was going to be great theater. Releasing my hand from her mouth I rolled her on her back. Rising up, I positioned my knees beside her. Leaning imposingly over her delicate body my hands were on her wrists, pinning them to the sides of her head. Her eyes told me I had her full and undivided attention.
Releasing her left wrist I leaned back and with great fanfare ripped the patch off my eye. Placing my hand back on her wrist, staring into her eyes I mustered up my sternest look. Raising my voice to Mom for only the second time in my life I firmly pushed down on her wrists in cadence with each word.
“You… will… never… say… that… word… again!”
She replied meekly “Yes Tommy.”
“The… word… S… L… U…T… never… has… and… never… will… apply… to… you… do… you… under… stand?”
Meeker yet she said “Yes Tommy, I understand.”
“You… will… never… EVER… think… of… your… self… that… way… again.”
Her eyes tearing, gasping for breath she whispered “Yes… Tommy… I’ll… do… anything… you… say.”
The words and the look in her eyes told me that the psychic cancer of the ‘S’ word had been excised. The words and the look in her eyes told me Mom was mine for the taking.
You would think this would be a 19-year-old virgin’s wettest dream come true. It was. Loving Mom so very much, it served to crystalize my responsibility to her. Her soul was so fragile and innocent. I didn’t want what she wasn’t completely ready to give. She had been taken against her will some twenty years ago, and never fully recovered. I wanted her to give herself to me without being consumed by guilt.
Looking down upon my beautiful angel I realized I was wrong about Mom being of two parts: she was of three. She was an amalgam of first-love-stricken eighteen-year-old girl; a mother who was solemnly committed to do whatever was best for her son; and a thirty-eight-year-old woman at the peak of her sexuality. The girl was eager for the adventure; the woman had a deep and desperate longing to be fulfilled. Only the mother, mindful of her responsibilities was hesitant – the mother was outnumbered two to one.
Totally in charge now, could I do the right thing? Did I even know what the right thing was? Pulling her close Mom was smothered with hugs and kisses. I simply said “I love you.”
Her eyes told me this was the time she most desperately needed to hear me say it. The excitement and emotion was too much for her. Mom began to cry, soon she was sobbing. Cradled in my arms it was my turn to console her. She could barely get out the words.
“Tommy, when I heard the news report about the helicopter somehow I knew you were on it. Part of me died.”
“I know Mom, I know. We’re together now, that’s all that matters. Shhhh, I love you. It’s all behind us now. I will never leave you. I will love you forever. Shhhh.”
She slowly relaxed and her breathing slowed. Laying her down on the bed while tenderly holding her I whispered “Shhhh. Sleep, my angel, sleep. Let me hold you. I love you. I have always loved you. I will love you forever. Sleep my angel, sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Chapter 7
Thankfully, Mom slept peacefully through the night. The first thing Mom said when she got up was “Tommy, can we go home today?”
“Sounds like a plan, Mom!”
Excited, she got out of bed and called several airlines. Non-stop flights were full; we didn’t want to change planes so we decided to wait one more day.
We did the tourist routine again before returning to our room for our last night in the hotel. We each got ready for bed, me first under the covers wearing only briefs. When Mom got out of the bathroom she was wearing pajamas over her cyan satin panty and bra. From the shampoos, soaps and lotions she smelled like a field of flowers. Mom pulled back the cover and sheets and didn’t hesitate getting into my arms.
“Tommy, I can’t wait until we’re back home together.”
My reply was a warm and passionate kiss. We tried to keep things at a slow pace, but that didn’t work for very long. Kissing passionately, it didn’t take long for our tongues to find each other’s. Kneading her breasts, Mom’s body trembled, her breathing labored, and her heart pounded wildly. Her nipples prominently protruded through the bra and pajama top. I had found ‘her spot’; her whole body writhed in pleasure with one little touch of a fingertip on a nipple. Positioning my hands behind Mom’s shoulders and turning her under me, her eyes were closed, she was gently moaning, and her body was shaking and quivering.
After aiming my rock-hard manhood to line up with her sex, she let out a guttural moan. We began a gentle progressing to powerful rhythmic rubbing of our fabric covered sex. She lifted her knees up and wrapped her legs around me. Mom was completely engrossed in the throes of passion. If I slowed down, she would keep going. When I rolled her on top of me, she didn’t miss a beat. I had no idea she was so sexual; how had she kept this bottled up inside her? How much she must have suffered all these years unable to unleash and express it. The reason she cried after our time together on the couch after the Prom was now fully understood.
“Tommy, I’m your Mother… we… oh… Tommy… lines… you… never leave… love… wrong… Tommy…”
Without any resistance I slowly removed her pajama bottoms; continuing our sex-to-sex rubbing the satin texture of her panty against my briefs increased our pleasure to new heights. Rolling Mom on top of me again she straddled my waist with her legs. We kept up our sensuous rhythmic gyrations.
“Mom, please take off your top.”
She did so without hesitation, nearly blinding me with the spectacular vision of her stiff nipples pressing through the thin satin fabric of her cyan bra. Reaching up with palms and fingertips I worshipped her petite firm breasts. One was kissed, then the other. Mom leaned back, and slowly and sensuously, like a visual that was being presented in slow motion took off her bra. Leaning forward she placed her nipples near my eager mouth.
“They’re not very bi-”
A fingertip gently covered her lips.
“Your breasts are exquisite. They were sculpted by the gods for your body; they could not be more perfect.”
I meant every single word.
Pulling her to me I took her left breast into my mouth, quickly followed by her right. Alternating breasts, each nipple was gently suckled. The taste and feel was beyond my comprehension. Mom’s pleasure grew; her body was now literally convulsing in response to my stimulation.
Rolling Mom so that we were on our sides, face to face, I reached down and touched her sex. Through the thin satin fabric I could feel her puffed up labia and engorged clitoris. Mom opened my lips with her tongue, and thrust it into my mouth. Reaching under her panty I gently ran my finger up and down her warm smooth wetness. She shuddered with pleasure. Soon she was screaming into my mouth and convulsing into orgasm, drenching my fingers and hand with her juices. Mom went limp.
Removing my hand and embracing her we were on our sides facing each other. She was panting, and gasping for breath. When she began to breathe normally we kissed again. Our tongues were soon once again frantically tangled while my hand caressed her breasts and fingers rolled her nipples. The feeling of our unrestrained intimacy was beyond my wildest dreams.
Mom’s hand tentatively moved up and down my body. When she reached my throbbing manhood she gently ran her fingers over it. Helping her slowly remove my briefs for better access, she softly placed her fingers around my virgin manhood. She looked into my eyes seeking my reaction.
“Mom, it’s so hard it hurts.”
She began gently stroking. Smiling sweetly she said “Does this help? Am I doing it right?”
“Mmmnnnggghhh” was all I said. Soon, a prolific stream of ejaculate answered her question.
“I love you Tommy, more than you’ll ever know.”
“Unbelievable, Mom. I can’t believe it. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so much.”
Reaching for a nearby towel she wiped us clean. I was still rock-hard. We kissed, and talked, and kissed, and kissed some more. After relishing our intimate closeness for who-knows-how-long, I gently rolled on top of her we were well beyond any pretext of normal behavior between mother and son. The only deterrent to our bursting through the final line was the thinnest layer of sheer cyan satin.
When my engorged manhood was pushed up against her panty she opened her legs, and she brought her knees up toward our shoulders. We began a rhythmic and sensuous sexual stroking. Her satin panty was soaked through with her nectar. With a texture close to flesh it form-fitted the folds of her engorged labia. Against my bare manhood, it wasn’t actual intercourse, but it had to be the next best thing while we performed a ‘don’t-cross-the-final-line’ love dance. Our passions were in overdrive and our libido engines red-lined, it didn’t take long until we both exploded into simultaneous orgasmic bliss. It was a long time until either of us could move or speak.
“I love you Mom. I love you.”
“Tommy, that was amazing. Beyond belief. I can’t believe it how wonderful it was. I love you Tommy, I love you so much.”
“Mom, it was perfect. I’m so happy this was with you, I can’t imagine being like this with anyone else.”
We embraced, exchanging kisses and ‘I love you’s. We lay close for what seemed like an hour.
Mom said “Tommy, we’re all sticky and icky. Let’s take a shower together.”
There was no hesitation on my part, and for the first time I beheld the vision of my mother’s heavenly body in its glorious naked totality. I felt I should be worshipping, instead of showering with, her. I was a mere mortal before a goddess, unworthy to be in her presence; but not wanting to leave. As the warm water rained down upon us I knew this was the most beautiful experience of my life.
Much soap and warm water was expended while we explored and joyfully took turns washing each other. Mom’s petite, firm, and up-high breasts felt exquisite to the touch, but warm, soapy water gave an entirely new and incredible sensation. As our initial embarrassment waned, our intimacy increased. I began to gently wash Mom’s sex – I was unsure a son should even allow himself to think of his mother’s vulva as a ‘pussy’, but touching it was like petting the most feminine of feline. Mom began to clean off my manhood, and it made me feel awkwardly self-conscious when she got closer to the task at hand: angels and goddesses should not kneel before earthly mortals.
Looking down toward her in awe, her eyes met mine and she broke out that mischievous smile of hers and pointed to the ceiling. As I looked up, she took me in her mouth. The unexpected sensations were so overwhelming I had to brace myself against the shower walls to keep from falling. I exploded after a few ministrations. Mom smiled and looked me in the eyes as she gracefully rose up. In a most mind-boggling sensuous manner she brought her upturned hand to her mouth and dripped my fluids into her palm. Moving her hand under the flow from the shower we both watched, mesmerized, as the droplets washed my essences to the drain below.
“Did I do it right?”
Holding Mom close to me, all I could say was “It was unbelievable Mom… perfect. I love you, I love you so much.”
Kissing her our tongues met and intermingled. She really seemed to appreciate this kiss, perhaps she thought I might not want to kiss her after what she had done for me. Moving to get on my knees before her she put her arms under my shoulders and lifted me back up.
“No, Tommy. This is all too much for me. If we don’t stop now I’m going to burst into flames. Please take me to bed and hold me. But first, I must pray and beg God for forgiveness. It won’t matter, I have crossed so many lines and each one of them is beyond all redemption. I am surely destined for an eternity in Hell.”
“Mom, don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Please, believe me.”
I held her closely before gently kissing her lips. We dried off. Mom had a distant look. We headed straight for bed without getting dressed. We kissed again and I held Mom close.
“Mom, you always told me God was love. How could what we have be sin? The morning before leaving for Iraq, when you were asleep in my arms I prayed. I asked God for your protection, and to allow me to be safely returned to you so I could take care of you for the rest of your life. God didn’t spare everyone on the helicopter. I believe God had a purpose in answering my prayer.”
“Tommy. I love you.”
“I love you, Mom. I will love you forever.”
After a warm, wet, passionate kiss I moved down and suckled her most perfect breasts. She softly moaned in pleasure. Continuing down I kissed her navel. Her hands under my shoulders were pulling me back up but did not stop me from reaching her sex. Putting both hands below and behind her knees her legs were raised to further open Mom’s sacred treasure before me. This is where I belonged, this what I was destined to do, this is what I had to do to show Mom how unconditionally I loved her. Realizing I had very little idea what I should actually be doing, I resolved to make up for my lack of technique with my enthusiasm for gifting her pleasure.
“Tommy, no, please, no, oh, you don’t have to…”
My oral worship had barely begun before she began convulsing. My mouth, tongue, and face were soon covered in her love juices. Pulling me up to her she kissed me and passionately pushed her tongue in my mouth as deeply as she could; it was her turn to show me how much she appreciated this most intimate gesture.
“Tommy, you have no idea how wonderful that was!”
“Actually, Mom, after your little point-to-the-shower-ceiling trick, I have a pretty good idea. I love you, have I ever told you that?”
Holding me tightly she whispered “I love you so much. I cannot live without you.”
Mom’s warmth, scent, breathing, sensuous body, and skin-on-skin contact was so wonderful. We lovingly gazed into each other’s eyes before letting afterglow fatigue overtake us. We slept bodies-intertwined. Our heartbeats and breathing soon synchronized as one. So too did our dreams.
Chapter 8.
It felt so good to be back together in our apartment. Every little thing was where it was before I left. After unpacking and cleaning up, we went grocery shopping. Mom had the presence of mind before she rushed to the airport to be with me to dispose of all the things that would have spoiled. We selected all the mundane fresh items a household would need. Smiling, Mom pulled a bottle of wine from the shelf.
Arriving home Mom told me to go sit on the couch while she put the groceries away. Bringing two glasses she joined me on the couch.
“If our country can send my man overseas to get shot at, he can have wine before he’s twenty-one years old.”
Having sampled many beers with my comrades, it was the first time I drank wine. It would not be the only first of the night.
Even while toasting each other, the elephant in the room was the line. Wherever we went, there it was. The line we wanted to get to the other side of, but a barrier considered impossible for a mother and son to transcend. It was getting late. After the last few nights, Mom saw no reason to dance around our sleeping arrangements.
Mom said “Why don’t you get ready for bed first, I’ll follow you.”
After showering I wore only my robe. I opened the bed sheets, and sat on the bed to wait for Mom. My head was spinning reflecting on all that occurred since our last night in this apartment and this moment. Did it all really happen? It seemed like I never left… was all that has transpired been the product of my imagination?
No, these scars weren’t here before. No, the aches and pains are new. My eyesight, while close to normal, was perfect before I left. Yes, it most assuredly happened. And yes, since my return to Mom the physical manifestations of our love could not have been imagined. They had progressed so far, so quickly. It was real.
At once excited and apprehensive I didn’t have long to contemplate. Mom approached the bed wearing her white satin nightgown, accentuating her perfect petite breasts and shapely legs. Her black hair shone with moon-glow radiance dancing softly on and over her delicate shoulders. Her eyes were bright and her smile brighter. I thought “If angels have angels, the angel’s angels surely must look like Mom.”
We shared a passionate kiss.
“Mom, let’s sit and talk.”
We maneuvered ourselves so we were sitting legs together, facing each other across the middle of the bed. We joined hands. With her eyes she pointed to a spot between us.
Mom said “This line still separates us. After what you said last night the edges look fuzzy, but it’s still here. Tommy, I don’t think I can control myself. I’m like a moth drawn to the flame, how close can I get before I burn myself into oblivion?”
“Mom, I love you. There will be no loss of control. We will know exactly what we are doing, and why we are doing it. We are ready. It is our time.”
She looked at me imploringly, desperately seeking further assurance. Looking into her loving eyes I said “I have a mother. She is an angel, a goddess, and my best friend. She has put her life on hold for me unconditionally, more than once. I have loved her for my entire life. Tina, I will never again think of you as, or call you, my mother.”
Her eyes lit up. An oppressive weight was lifting off her shoulders. The room brightened from her smile.
“I have a son. He has been everything and more that a mother could ever wish for. He is the only man I could ever love. Tommy, I will never again think of you as, or call you, my son.”
With those words spoken, the line between us dissipated like a wisp of steam over a hot cup of coffee.
We had been building up to this moment. The warm embraces and caresses. The innocent-yet-sexually-charged contact of our bodies. The kisses: mother to child, mother to son, lover to lover. The times we slept in each other’s arms without sex, desperately wanting, but resisting temptation – holding back out of a sacred bond of trust with, and responsibility toward, each other. The joy and exhilaration of the escalating intimacy we had shared the previous nights.
I wanted our first time to be perfect and totally pleasurable for Tina – even though I was a virgin and wouldn’t know what the hell I was doing. We held each other and shared the purest of kisses. Gazing into each other’s eyes it was clear things were going to move fast; after last night there was no reason to hold back. We removed each other’s robes. I was naked, but the icing on the cake was that Tina was wearing her cyan satin panty and bra; the symbols of my fantasies and desires, and as I now knew, whenever worn in my presence, an affirmation those fantasies and desires were shared by her as well.
She said “Would you like me to…?”
I was one step ahead of her – the clasps of her bra were already undone and it was being removed. She smiled sweetly.
“Tommy, please allow me to do this for you.”
Rising up, with my hands on her waist to hold her steady, she slowly and seductively took off her panty, letting it fall to the bed. Stepping free of it her beautiful sex was now at eye level and I fully appreciated why the anatomical term was mons veneris – the mound of Venus: nothing in all the heavens – or on earth – was more beautiful.
Looking into her eyes, my eyes asked if she was ready; her eyes said yes. I pointed to her side. She turned to look and I quickly pulled her into me putting my lips and tongue into her sex. Inhaling sharply she collapsed joyfully into my arms. Catching her I guided her so we were side by side.
We urgently leaned into another kiss. Our tongues locked together and moved – we were passing back and forth our life essences. Rolling her onto her back, I kissed her neck on the way to her breasts. Each one in its turn was gently taken into my mouth. They were jutting out proudly, hard and succulent. Suckling her breasts she writhed in ecstasy. She wrapped her fingers around my penis in loving envelopment. Gently removing her hand, I moved further down her body until my tongue reached her clitoris. Gently, my tongue moved over it. She moaned. As I explored creative ways to please her she growled lustfully. She shuddered into an explosive orgasm, followed quickly by another. All the blood must have left her brain for her sex; she was left with a four word vocabulary.
She repeatedly said “Tommy, I love you.”
My gentle ministrations continued, moving her knees toward her shoulders I lifted her sex towards me. My tongue worked its way up and down her fully swollen folds. I began a slow, steady, rhythmic penetration of her vagina with my tongue. Her thighs tightened across my head and ears and she began wildly convulsing. My face was covered with her nectar, and there was little doubt she was fully prepared for our first true intercourse. Moving up to my lover’s breasts and gently licking them she caught her breath.
Looking into her eyes, mine said simply, sincerely, and joyfully “I love you.”
Her eyes lovingly returned the sentiment.
Slowly moving up on her the tip of my manhood was gently pressed between her labia lips, her fingers gently wrapped around its base. I now had the sacred honor of being the first man gifted entrance into the temple of her sex, once forcefully taken, but only now willfully, legitimately, and lovingly given. For only a few more seconds would we be virgin.
“Tina, take your time. We have forever together.”
Working my glans up and down her wet lips she lubricated me with her prolific flow of juices. The sensation of her warm wet labia on the head of my manhood was beyond my comprehension.
“Tommy…”
As she lined us up I slowly entered her. Moving gingerly, each stroke gained more entry into her heavenly body. I was afraid I was hurting her, but she said “It’s wonderful. Go slowly my love.”
Ever-so-carefully pressing forward I was partway enveloped, pausing to let her adjust. When she was ready she pulled me into her.
“Keep yourself in me and don’t move… hold me. I love you. I love you. Tommy, I love you.”
The feeling of being inside her was exquisite. Mother Nature has hardwired us to experience excruciatingly intense pleasure from this union. Every man who has loved a woman knows the feeling, even though not one of them could adequately describe it. My feeble words would hardly do justice. I moved out of her ever so slightly; a sweet moan “Aaahhh” was her response. With great care I pushed back in, her response was the same only amplified, and gave testimony to her tumultuously rising pleasure. Carefully probing, gradually and slowly increasing the depth and speed of my thrusts, our movements became fluid.
Mouths connected, we frantically engaged our tongues as my manhood reached into her fully; we were now one. Our union was at last physically consummated! She was moaning and crying out with absolute unbounded joy. My consciousness was consumed in the moment. The look on her face was priceless.
It was my turn to repeatedly say “Tina, I love you.”
When she sensed my impending orgasm, hers triggered simultaneously. Collapsing side by side we were facing each other. Nothing needed to be said. Looking into my eyes she read my mind.
“No Tommy, that’s enough, more than enough. You have fulfilled me beyond all my dreams. Let’s lie here and be close.”
After our unspoken thoughts returned from their tandem flight, she said “Tommy, it was more than I ever could have imagined. I had no idea. I didn’t know. You have made me so happy. I love you. I love you so much – now you surely know how much I love you.”
With all my heart and soul I said “I love you Tina. I have loved you since before I can remember and I will love you forever.”
As that most wonderful afterglow fatigue overtook us, Tina’s warmth, scent, breathing, sensuous body, and skin-on-skin contact was so perfect. Perhaps no angels attended my conception, but in Tina’s loving embrace, as sleep gently took control I heard singing, and sensed a joyful presence all around us.
Epilogue
An unconventional mother-son story to be sure. Condemn us if you must… accept us if you will. You must know this: I believe God created an infinite universe to ensure there would be a little room in it for lovers like Tina and me.
We live openly as an inseparable, committed, and devoted couple. Our life together is a never-ending honeymoon and storybook adventure. Words spoken to my mother were as true for her then as they are today for Tina: “Every new day with you is better than the one before.”
***********
With Tina’s steadfast encouragement I am striving to become a writer. Here is the storyline for my first attempt. I hope it will be well-received.
– A young woman is pregnant.
– Dad kicks her to the curb.
– She nurtures her illegitimate son.
– The little bastard falls in love with her.
– They live happily ever after.
– The end.
