6 comments/ 77306 views/ 14 favorites Beautiful Memory Ch. 01 By: EroticSon Life changing events are sometimes marked by simple markers that, in retrospect, get etched indelibly. The flash of fire in the pendant caught my eye, held me mesmerized for what might have been a moment, or a lifetime. Time seemed to stand still. Nothing existed for the longest time except the pendant. It captured my complete and undivided attention quite unexpectedly. A seemingly innocuous pendant that was layered with subtlety. At first glance it was a crucifix. Unusual in that it was made of crystal on platinum bordered by tiny diamonds. Yet it wasn't quite Christ. It was almost the same posture but that of a woman lying on a bed. Her back arched slightly. Her breasts thrusting upwards. Her long flowing hair spread out under her. Her one knee bent slightly in coy modesty. Sunlight flashed brilliantly of it, like flames racing through her body, giving the illusion of flowing motion. Realizing that time seemed to have stood still and I had stopped breathing some time ago, I tried to de-focus from the captivating image. The problem with being a hormone-ridden teen was that every image held the potential for infinite eroticism. Breathing out slowly, trying to relax my body, my focus widened beyond the pendant only to find the vision of my mother's enormous milky white bust completely surrounding the pendant. My hormone saturated mind promptly saw the crucifix as a certain part of the male body thrusting down into her cleavage. I almost groaned out loud in frustration. I needed to get laid, either before I exploded or my mind was perverted beyond redemption. Summoning every once of will power I tore my eyes from the most inviting, yet distinctly disturbing, sight in the world only to look up and find myself caught in the infinite depths of blue eyes. Slightly shy, yet understanding, yet mildly admonishing, eyes. How she managed to communicate so much in a simple glance I will never understand. Nor frankly, have I wanted to understand. I only want to get lost in those eyes every chance I get. She could play me any way she wanted. She knew it. She felt both happy and sorry that it was this way. She often told me I needed a girl friend. This kind of relationship between a mother and son was, well, unhealthy. My happy exploration of the uncharted mysterious depths of inviting blue was broken by the shifting of the focal point to somewhere to my left. Mildly irritated but curious I followed the focal point to find a pair of browns pointed right at me. I swallowed hard. How long had I been staring at my mother's cleavage. I mean it was the pendant but ... well, it was an understandable misunderstanding. More importantly how long had the browns noticed the focal point of my attention. Now, mind you, most people don't raise an eyebrow when a male's gaze settles on female curves. It's quite natural. I have to admit it's kind of awkward when those curves belong to one's mother. What makes it even more awkward is when one is caught staring at one's mother's own perfectly formed curves. Of course, the only thing worse is to have her husband catch you, especially when he's your own father, and the browns clearly had hit the mark. You could have given a chain saw a good work out trying to cut through the thick silence in the room. We could have been carved in stone. No one moved. Not a whisper. The happy warmth I had been feeling in my nether regions had made its way up to my face. I was certain my cheeks were doing an admirable job of proudly displaying crimson sans blush. You'll understand that this is not a social situation that one usually anticipates and has a graceful exit prepared for. Come to think of it, how does one handle this? The silence had now entered an interval of time that required more than the casual dismissal of an event best left unacknowledged. Pickle. "Beautiful isn't it?" asked the urban voice owned by the brown eyes. "Captivating," I responded with a sigh of relief. We were talking about the pendant weren't we? "Caught my attention the first time I saw it. Fills me with admiration ever since." "It is marvelous. Never seen anything like it." "Makes you want to look at it all the time doesn't it?" continued brown eyes. "Does set the spirit free to look upon it." We'd found the graceful exit could we move on now? "In 25 years they've only got more perfect." Oh great, mom's only had that pendant for a day, tops. I think my ears were burning at this point. Well, they were. Maybe they looked red too. Brown eyes chuckled, "It's OK son. Your mother is a beautiful woman. You wouldn't be a man if you didn't look. Especially at those." How does one respond to a father's comments about his wife's bust to his own son, in front of her. "Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to look. It was really the pendant that caught my eye." "Sure, that's what drew your eyes but it's not the first time you looked there and it's not what kept your attention there for the first innings." First innings? We were going to watch baseball, right. And in the process of turning on the TV and moving the couch we had frozen into our current set up. A whole inning? Truth be told I could have gone the whole game and would have been happier for it. Which teams were even playing? "You know it's OK to compliment your mother. She enjoys it. And you don't have to be shy about being a man. She is your mother but she is also a woman." I loved my father. We got along great. We had a lot of fun together but this was getting awkward. It's not like we were discussing some bimbo. This was my own mother, his wife, for heaven's sake. "Uh, right. You look great mom," I mumbled and flopped on the couch. He laughed, "Didn't I teach you anything? That's not how to compliment a woman." Was he trying to embarrass me into never looking again? I looked at my mother, begging to be rescued. But she seemed hesitant, shy, yet hopeful. What was going through her mind? She was normally so sure of herself. So confident. I looked back at brown eyes. No help there either. OK, a compliment and we move on. Over and done with. Let's see, for the compliment to be meaningful it had to be specific. "The true beauty of that pendant could only be realized on you mom," I said, trying to make it sound casual but the depth of my belief in my words betrayed me and it came out sounding like I was proposing to her. I turned my attention to the TV. There, done, over. But out of the corner of my eye I was looking at her. I could see she was flattered. Happy. I liked making mom happy. She came over to me. Stood in front of me. Cupped my face in her hands. Did I mention that I melt when she does that? Chocolate on a dashboard in mid summer Phoenix has a better chance than I did in those perfect, tender, caring hands. She looked me deep in my eyes. I wasn't going to return to the solid state any time soon so I may as well let the endorphins make hay. "Thank you Darling." Now there are a few things you should know. The upper class northeast accent that was as much a part of my mother as those tremendous assets both soothed me and aroused me as nothing else in the world could possibly do. There something so cool, sophisticated, admirable in her bearing, her voice. Yet when she used it on me, there was also a healthy dose of warmth. Truth be told, there was never as much warmth for anyone else in that voice. A second matter of import is that she only called two people in the world 'Darling', brown eyes (always) and me (rare special occasions). On those rare special occasions, little men with icy cold feet were unleashed from where ever they remained hidden and did laps around my spine. I was in heaven. Life couldn't be better. At least that's what I thought. Then the strangest thing happened. Blue eyes looked over at brown eyes, lingered a moment, then focused back on me. Long dark eyelashes came together, dismayingly blocking the wonderful view of blue. Before my dismay had banished the ice men, fire touched my lips. Liquid, soft, fire. The kind of fire you wish would burn forever. While my body luxuriated in the sensation of indescribable pleasure, my mind slowly worked through an impossible fog to come to the startling conclusion that my mother was kissing me, on my lips. Not just a brush, a soft, lingering, tender, warm, kiss. As I considered fainting from the sensation (not so much the deliberate intellectual consideration, but rather the blood flowing away from the brain and getting dizzy consideration), the gentle pressure was slowly released. She gave me her patented warm smile that turned me into honey, turned and left. My body was both savoring the wonderful sensations in playback and also sulking at the loss. My mind was struggling to keep up with what had just transpired. My mother had just kissed my lips. In no uncertain way, this was more than a mother just kissing her son. This was the 'I-like-you-a-lot' and 'we-can-date' kind of kiss. I liked those kisses. A couple of girls had made me the beneficiary of those kisses. This, was my mother. Of course I had a crush on the goddess, but then most boys probably had a crush on their mother. She had done it in front of my father! My mind can sometimes forget to pass along information that others would deem very important. Vital, you could say. I glanced over at him wondering if he was even now headed towards me with a blunt instrument to reclaim his woman. Instead he glanced at me casually as if nothing had happened. Then went back to watching TV. Maybe I had just imagined the whole thing. Hormone saturated minds are incredibly adept at blurring fantasy and reality. I was just coming to terms with this happy explanation. You could say I had found the exit lane back to reality from Wonderland when I saw a small knowing smile spread across his face. In a soft voice, "First time I was on the receiving end of that I went from existing to being alive. I still remember the sensation. It still feels as wonderful. A beautiful memory, nourished every day since." Beautiful Memory Ch. 02 That night I lay in bed reliving the poignant events of the day. There was no denying what had transpired, nor was there any point in denying that the feelings of intense love and desire for my own mother had always been there, just below the surface of conscious acknowledgement. The truth was I didn't have a steady girlfriend because I had always been in love. I wanted my first time to be with someone special. Someone with whom I was so in love, that the experience would stretch the boundaries of sensory perception beyond imagination. One can only lose one's virginity once. I could either lose it in an explosion of teenage hormonal lust with the first girl I found cute enough to bed or I could lose it in a way that was a life-long cherished memory. I had chosen the latter much to the chagrin of a couple of young ladies who felt we had reached a stage in our relationship where we ought to have consummated it and transitioned past the platonic. Call me old fashioned but I wanted more than just sex, only to discover the sad truth was that I wanted more than just sex with the one woman who I couldn't possible have; the woman I had always loved, my own mother. It isn't much of a stretch to say that having one's own mother sexually is certainly a social taboo. I vaguely recall in my younger days learning that there might even be legally unpleasant consequences but that might have been age related. To boot, it was pretty much explicitly forbidden by just about any religion. Bit of a pickle. Boy falls in love. With the one woman he can't have, Boy too naïve or idealistic to just jump nice girl but insists on first time being with love-of-life. Boy makes love-of-life his own mother. Boy is moron. With that undeniable conclusion, I took a book from my bedside table and immersed myself into it so that I would eventually fall asleep. Thank God for Dean Koontz. The next morning I awoke despondent. Took a while for my groggy mind to figure out why I was despondent. Ah yes, boy was a moron, or is a moron. Looking at the moron in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, optimism began to seep in. Must have been the sight of my lips wrapped around the handle of my tooth brush, that brought back the memory of my mother's lips on them. The mind blowing sensations that had followed. Maybe, just maybe, mom would consider ... hmmm, consider what? Did I expect her to start dating me? Oh sure, that made a whole lot of sense. I would just walk up to mom and ask her if she would date me because I was madly in love with her. She would of course be delighted to throw away her marriage and date her own son instead. Boy was really a moron. Sighing I finished up and walked down for breakfast. Still lost in gloom but not thinking, I made my way to the breakfast nook with the bay windows. Early spring sun was streaming through the windows framing an angel. Her hair shone like gold silk threads. The sun weaved into her blonde hair, the glow of a halo with electric sparks dissolving into rainbows. Her body clearly visible under her translucent robe. The sunlight making a mockery of her robe, exhibiting her body, like nature's cherished treasure for all to behold. Well, we were at home, and there was just me, but you get the idea. Her breasts thrusting out, B cups that were modest yet feminine. Her lithe figure perfectly sculpted. Her head tilted up just ever so slightly as she read the paper, emphasizing her graceful neckline. Her legs crossed gracefully, yet tantalizingly, emphasizing the sheer length and slimness. Her voice interrupted my revere, my ears first celebrating the soft modulation of sound before my mind caught up to comprehend the words, "Would you like to come and join me for breakfast or do you plan on standing there and watching me eat?" Her tone was filled with amusement. I was watching her in profile and had forgotten how aware she always was. "Uh, good morning mom. I ... I," I what? I had been busted ogling my own mother. I decided the best defense was silence as I slipped into a chair opposite her whilst wishing I could rewind the clock, keep the memory of the sight of her and skip past the embarrassment. She slowly put down the paper and blue eyes looked at me frankly with a twinkle in her eyes. "So, are you going to tell me what's on your mind or will you make me guess?" I swallowed hard. She was always very good at reading me, "Uh, I'm just a little distracted." She gave her patented soft gentle laugh, "Well, we feeling like stating the obvious this morning then," as she poured me orange juice without asking. She always seemed to know what I wanted too. I sighed, "Well, I ... I think I'm in love." There, out in the open. "I had noticed the signs honey. You may find this hard to believe but it seems to happen a lot around me. Although I claim to do nothing to encourage the state. So many people are superficial and only look at me and think they are in love." Her eyes took me in while sharing all this. The eyes that could make the whole world disappear. It was so hard to concentrate when those eyes were on me. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound, "The thing is I'm in love with someone I can't have, mom." She just smiled, "That would be a matter of perspective. Does she love you?" "Yes, but perhaps not the way I want her to." "Now that's interesting." She let the silence hang in the air as her eyes penetrated my soul. I clung to the silence in desperation. She raised her cup to her lips slowly, taking in a long slow sip of coffee, sighed, contently. "Shall I ask the obvious question or would you be so kind?." I looked up at those beautiful blue eyes, swallowed hard and went for it. "I'm in love with you mom," while holding my breath in preparation for what I had brought on myself. I was in deep trouble but whom else was I going to tell? At least it was off my chest. I glanced up to see her eyes on her coffee mug. Her finger tracing the edge of her cup. Her response was silence. Thoughtful, pregnant silence. I felt that I had finally done it. Destroyed the relationship I had with my mother. Irreparably. I was miserable. Not only had I lost a dearly cherished relationship but also I had disappointed my own mother. God, I was in deep trouble and had lost everything that had meant anything to me. I was depressed beyond imagination. I wanted it all to end. There was nothing to look forward to. "So, what would you like to have happen?" she asked throatily. It took me a while to clear my head enough to understand what I had been asked. Could it be? Suddenly I was filled with hope. I cleared my throat. But I hadn't thought through this. I hadn't thought it possible. "I ... could ... it be possible for us to have something ... beyond mother and son?" I asked in a voice I didn't recognize. She slowly looked up and met my eyes. Only this time her eyes were dead serious. She bit her lower lips slowly, "You know honey, you only know one side of me." I nodded slowly, "Yes mom, I only know you as my mother. You think I don't know you as a woman?" She smiled slowly, almost sadly, "You were always my bright young man. I'm always so proud of you honey. Yes, do you have any idea what I'm like as a woman?" She had a point. I thought about it. Then I looked at her with conviction, "Mom, I know I love you. I love everything about you. I want to love you in every way. No bounds. No limits." She smiled slightly, almost sadly. "Are you sure honey? This is a big step. You know it's not normal for a mother and son to have that kind of relationship. Are you ready to cross that line? To live like that?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My mother calmly suggesting that we have a relationship. A relationship that I thought could not be. She was calmly discussing the consequences. I wanted it so much, so bad, that I would do anything to have her. And that's what I told her. Only I realized that there was one complication, "What about dad?" I asked softly. I didn't want to bring it up. I wanted to ignore it. I wanted it not to be. But I had to ask. I was so close. I could almost have it. I couldn't ignore the reality. She took a deep breath, then looked up at me, "Honey, I am also in love with you. I've brought you up to be the perfect man as I imagined him to be. And you are every inch that man. Your father understands how I feel. He cares for me. Loves me deeply and wants me to be happy more than anything else. We have talked about it. He agreed to let me pursue my love and to not be in the way. I love your father. But my love for him is ... different. We are both happy if we are there for each other. But what I feel for you ... is ... well ... not platonic," she laughed. "But I needed to make sure you could handle it. It will be very different. Are you ready for that darling?" I couldn't believe my ears. Did my mother just tell me that she had already discussed with her husband, my father, having a relationship with me? I looked at her, "Oh God mom. I want you so much. I want to have that kind of relationship with you." She smiled, "What kind?" she asked mischievously. "You know," I responded blushing. "No honey, you need to say it. I need to make sure you can handle it." "Mom, I want you as my girlfriend. I want to make love to you. I want to live with you as your boyfriend. I want to share a bed with you," I blurted eagerly. She waited a long moment till the initial wave of heat had passed. Then she beckoned with her finger. I moved up to her and gently kissed her, tasting her sweet forbidden lips. The sensation was so incredibly intense. More so than the last time. Her soft lips felt so good, tasted incredible. Tasted so familiar. Her lips moved perfectly with mine. I felt my body tremble with excitement. Her lips were warm, tender, unhurried, yet passionately strong. I had never imagined that lips could feel like this. Her lips controlled the pace of our kissing then suddenly followed my lead. She moved smoothly between being led and leading. Our kiss was so comfortable, so natural, that the dance between roles was completely without hesitation. As our lips parted, emphasizing the depth of our mutual desires, I lost my grip on reality, sliding into a world of sensations. Explosive, intense sensations. My whole body tingled, fireworks in my head, my lips were more alive that I had ever thought possible. I could feel every muscle of her mouth, taste every subtle pressure change of her lips. Her breathing was in tune with my heartbeat. Our mouths sealed together, sharing every breath of air. Our lives joined in sharing the most basic need for life. Without breaking the seal of our mouths, our faces moved together in a poetry of shared emotions. Intense, powerful emotions that had been denied for too long. DNA that was meant to be one finally reunited. When our lips finally, reluctantly, parted I gasped for air, my mind whirled from the blood rushing, my whole body ached with sadness from the separation of our lips. I was physically spent from the emotional release of our kiss. Looking into my mother's eyes I saw a mixture of deep love, sorrow and hope. We had crossed a line. A line that was never meant to have been crossed. Starting a new journey. A journey that may not have been unique but would never be shared. A journey that we had to make alone. A journey that would be filled with perils, with trials, but one we wanted to take together for what we would gain. I understood her sadness. We would experience such wonders together yet we would pay a high price. The gentle vulnerable kiss she gave me told me she would give herself completely to me and would pay the price. I knew that life existed only for what we would have together. I loved her with my heart, with my mind, with my soul. Beautiful Memory Ch. 03 This is a long overdue continuation of a taboo romance. You may want to read Beautiful Memory Chapters I and II for context. A big thank you to Mary H, a Literotica volunteer editor who lent her talents to make the story more enjoyable for you. Thank you for voting and your comments on my previous submissions, it has kept me writing more. ***** Her patience always amazed me. My mind swam through all that had transpired as I sat there slowly catching up with the present. Unhurriedly, she drank her coffee. The aroma of her coffee was intoxicating, Java was her blend. My eyes slowly focused back on her. Her amused smile made me blush. "Glad to have you back. I thought I might have lost you for good there," she teased. "That was incredible mom," I blurted, then looked down at the table shyly. I felt her soft hand on my chin gently lifting my face up until my eyes met hers. Her thumb gently caressed my lips, and then she throatily responded, "It was wonderful Tommy. Even more so than I had imagined." I gasped in response. Had my mother just admitted to having fantasized about kissing my lips? What else, I wondered had she fantasized about. "Well, you'll just have to find out Tommy," she chuckled. How did she do that? It was always so embarrassing to be an open book to her. "Darling," she looked dead serious again, "Would you be okay with us going slow? I don't want to rush you into anything you can't handle. I am your mother and am responsible for your well-being. I will not harm you in any way. I don't want anything to happen to my handsome young man. We can end this at any time and go back to being a mother and son. This is going to be very tricky. I will not abuse my authority over you as your mother to ever have you do or feel something you don't want. Understood? You want to go back. We will and it will be forgotten, buried, like it never happened. I am your mother first and foremost. Anything else that happens between us is secondary. It's very important that you never do anything because you feel like I might want it, if it makes you feel anything but happy. We will be happy together but I will never, ever, be happy at your expense. Do you understand Sweetheart?" I nodded slowly. She gave me a long hard look, evaluating, measuring. She let the silence hang in the air for a long time. I could see her eyes reading me, penetrating me. One would think that being so transparent would make a person feel vulnerable but with her it only made me feel comforted, secure. I knew she meant every word she said. I knew that with my mother I would never be in a situation that could make me unhappy. She would go to the ends of the world to ensure my happiness even at the cost of her own. I felt great comfort, freedom and yet responsibility in that. How does one re-pay that kind of devotion? I loved her with all my heart and soul. But I don't think I could love her as completely as she loved me. Yet I didn't know how I could possibly love her more than I did. She looked back over at me as she took a long slow sip. She smiled a slow, ever widening smile. "You do understand. You have matured so well, Darling. I am so proud of you. Now, come, get to know me as a woman. But slowly. I know those teenage hormones are hard to contain but you have developed wonderful discipline." She reached out her hand as I slipped mine into it. She rose slowly, all grace, taking me with her. We walked across the breakfast area to the sliding doors onto the deck. The sunlight bathed our skin, warm, gentle. We slowly descended the stairs as a cool breeze contrasted the warm sun. The smell of fresh dew on grass filled the air. Birds sang sweetly. My mother's hand was the most exotic thing in the world. It filled me with such wonder, with such comfort, with such excitement. My heart fluttered, untethered to my body, floating up in pure joy. Up into the soft white clouds that caressed the perfect blue sky. We were both barefoot as we walked through the moist grass, savoring the sensation. We walked silently on the grassy path through the woods until we came to a stream. The sound of water running always had an intoxicating yet calming influence on me. Wordlessly we sat, side by side, on the bench next to the stream. Sunlight danced in the ripples of the stream. As we sat there in companionable silence she laid her head on my shoulder. My heart swelled with pride. Until this day I had always put my head on her shoulder and she had comforted me. She was the rock on which I could rest. Yet today, for the very first time, our roles were reversed. My mother was the vulnerable woman, leaning on me, her man, for strength, for comfort. A huge sense of responsibility settled over me. Yet, not a burdensome one but an easy cloak to wear. One that I was glad to wear. I slipped my arm around her shoulder, realizing for the first time how wonderfully delicate her shoulders were. My fingers gentle, yet firm, on the bare skin of her shoulder. I kissed the top of her head ever so tenderly, tasting her hair. The fragrance of her hair evicting all other fragrances. It was just her that existed now. She was my world. I loved the silken texture of her hair against my lips. My lips sought hers, kissing her gently, deeply, filled with longing, expressing it. My other hand slipping around her, completing the embrace. Our lips parted as her body flowed to press against me perfectly. A firm breast pressed against my chest sending electric thrills through my body. Her nipple was erect. A tremble went through my body. Her nipple was erect for me. I gently kissed her forehead, tasting the soft smooth skin, the tip of her nose, tilting her head up, I gently kissed her lips again. Only this time it was the kiss of confidence. A kiss filled with love and new found manhood. My lips tasted hers, savoring them. Shifting slowly to teasing her lips. Just grazing them. Making her lean in closer. Our lips dancing together, flirting, kissing her deep, then slowly withdrawing. Leaving her wanting a little. Feeling her urgency, her need, as she pressed her lips up against mine. Lips parting, mouths open, wanting, breathing as one. Stillness. Mouths wide open, sealed together, yet unmoving. Tongues slowly moving to just barely touch. The slight touch of the tips of our tongues sending electric thrills through my body. Our bodies slowly melting together. Her breasts pressing into my chest. Her whole lithe body melting into mine. Holding her delicately, protectively. Our tongues sliding over each others. Savoring the moistness. Tongues twirling, entwining, expressing our emotions at every level. Slowly, our mouth parted, our lips sticking together from the shared lack of inhibition of our kiss. The wetness, dirty, yet, emphasizing sheer abandonment of our kiss. She took a deep unsteady breath, slowly opened her eyes, and looked into mine. "Wow," she breathed in the kind of deep down heartfelt way that unequivocal. She slowly stood up, facing me; she reached under her sundress and slowly peeled down her panties. I watched mesmerized as her fingers slowly pull them down to her knees then let them fall to the grass around her ankles. She slowly stepped out of them, towards me. Her knees almost touching mine as she looked down at me. Her eyes were glazed slightly. Her lips slightly parted. I was shocked at the sight of my mother, clearly aroused. Seeing her as a woman for the very first time. She put a knee on either side of my hips as she straddled me. I felt so manly seeing the affect I was having on her that I didn't even realize the throbbing erection that was trapped in my shorts. She moved so that the tip of my cock, underwear, shorts and all, pressed into her. Her fingers interlocked around my neck as she looked into my eyes. She was slowly grinding her hips against me,wanting my manhood inside her. Just the tip made it with all the clothes between us, but she was hungry. My body ached to be inside her. She pinned me to the bench. She was in complete control and I was her willing slave. She rocked harder and harder. Suddenly her lips were on mine again. Only this time they were ferocious, a wild unrestrained need. My hand slid to her breast, cupping it through her sundress. She pressed into my hand hard. My grip tightened, almost rough, responding to her animal lust. As I squeezed her nipple between my thumb and forefinger she let out a cry, leaned back and shuddered. Her hips like steel shackles imprisoned me to the bench. Slowly her body started to relax. She put her face in my neck. A soft sob escaped her. "Oh God Tommy. What have I done? I was supposed to be the mature one. The responsible one. I was supposed to let you set the pace. And here I've taken you,without giving you the slightest chance. Taken you for my own selfish need." I could feel her tears on my neck. With my hands under her arms I gently moved her back. "Look at me mom," I said gently. Her tear filled eyes moved up to meet mine. "That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, ever been a part of mom. It makes me so happy, so proud, to make you feel like this. To see you so completely unrestrained. Satisfied. I want to make you feel that way every time we are together." I could see the guilt transform to joy in her eyes. The lightness, the laughter, the joy, that were ever present in her eyes were slowly returning to take up residence again. "You are amazing Tommy. I don't know what I could have done to deserve you. You are everything I could want and more." She smiled slowly, "There is a lot more where that came from. You keep arousing your old mother and you might have a hard time keeping up with her needs. Be careful what you wish for honey." She slid off my lap, sliding down next to me. Her body perfectly molded against mine. Her breasts pinning my arm between them. I was jealous of my arm. She extended a fingernail, slowly traced it from the top of my ribs, down the middle of my body, down my stomach, down to my shorts. Her fingers went straight for my zipper and slowly eased it down, all the way open. Her hand reached inside. She eased the head of my cock out through my underwear. Long live Jockey Y fronts. My cock twitched at the feel of bare flesh against it. My mother's hand gently eased out the length of me. Having me extend up into the palm of her hand. Her fingers extending down the length of my shaft. She cocooned my shaft and slowly massaged it. I had become slightly soft in the emotional aftermath but no more. I was rock hard at her expert handling of my member. She gently worked her fingers until pre cum oozed from the tip of my cock into her palm. She expertly massaged the pre cum over the head of my cock, covering the whole tip and just below it. A forefinger and thumb encircled my shaft just below the head. She slowly moved her thumb and forefinger like that just up over the head and then down below it again. Not going all the way to the hilt, but just working that area. It was intoxicating. In a throaty voice, "Is this how you play with yourself?" I gulped as I nodded slowly. It was hard to talk when my entire being was consumed with sensations of her wonderful hands working me. "Do you think of me when you do this?" I gasped and went rigid. Despite what had transpired so far I was unprepared for the question. My own mother wanted to know if I fantasized about her while masturbating. Even as she masturbated me. I looked into her eyes, which were locked on mine. Demanding an answer to her question. "Yes," I responded hoarsely. "Am I your favorite sexual fantasy?" "Yes." "Do you cum hard when you think of me sexually?" Groaning, "Yessss." Suddenly her hand gripped my whole shaft and tugged hard as her fingernail grazed the underside of my shaft, flicking up towards the pee hole. The manipulation of my shaft left me awash in a sea of sensations. My mind lost its grip as my body responded to the sensation of her hand and gave myself over to it, feeling the building orgasm. "Cum for me now. Cum in my hands. Cum as I masturbate you. Look at my body for real as you cum." My glazed eyes taking in her inviting, sexual, erotic body. Even fully clothed there was no denying the sexuality that it possessed. The invitation to trace my eyes over her curves. The glimpses of flesh through the translucent material. Openly viewing what was only an image burned into my mind I spasmed into her hand. Shooting huge ropes of seed. Huge arching throbs firing into the air as she continued to massage my shaft. Urgent. Demanding. Feeling myself respond to the physical stimulation. Feeling the physical release of my seed. Wave after wave of cum shot into the air and landed on the soil. As I slowly came down from my pure physical sexual high I saw my mother look at her hand with some of my cum on it, examine it almost clinically, then slowly lick it of her hand. Midway through licking it her eyes met mine and she continued deliberately without pausing but wanting me to see what she was doing in a wicked way. "Scandalized yet?" Shaking my head, "Just amazed." "Why? Because you never expected your mother to be a sexual creature?" Tilting her head back and laughing softly without malice. "Well, this certainly hasn't worked out at all like I expected. I was rather hoping we'd make love before descending down into sexual depravity. But life isn't perfect and you, my dear boy, are still a virgin. So, there is still hope for us. We might yet have you lose it in love making. But if you keep tempting me the way you have been. Well, then you have only yourself to blame for losing it in lust instead of love. Although, there may be something to be said for lust." She ruffled my hair. Sliding her hand slowly back down to my member she tenderly nursed my cock back inside my shorts but not my underwear. The softening cock struggling between erection and relaxed limpness. Slowly, carefully she zippered me back up. Her eyes glowing. "You'll like the feeling of that. But you do need to be careful the next time you open the zipper." Holding out her hand she helped me of the bench. Her hand sticky with my cum, with her saliva, glueing my hand to hers. We turned to walk back home. Her panties still on the ground behind us. I stopped to look at it. She smiled at me mischievously. "Momento or trophy?" She retrieved her panties, carefully folded it and slipped it inside my pocket. "I'll wash them for you later to keep." She kissed my cheek sweetly then putting her head back on my shoulder walked back with me. Our bodies luxuriating in shared warmth and affection. "You still owe me an answer young man," she reminded me. Sighing contently with my arms around the love of my life the word escaped me without thought, "Both."