7 comments/ 90487 views/ 38 favorites Like an exotic flower By: aluscious Every process settles into a rhythm. Our days too smoothen up into a rhythm polishing up the jarred interfaces of the collage of events that they are fraught with. My life also had settled into a smooth aerodynamic streamline. Nothing was left to chances, days pulled on as a proud repetition of their predecessors. I rode my days with a tipsy craze to bask in the sun of my success. But then after a long and eerie lull sometimes the ingredients of change suddenly fall into place. Apparently trivial events synergize to an earth shattering crescendo. But then, let me familiarize the readers with my background, as it has contextual significance as no experience is independent or insulated from the past. We are Syrian Christians, the ancient stock of oriental Christians, as old as St. Thomas the Apostle. We are from Kerala state, India. I belonged to a fairly poor family of farmers. After my high school, at an early age of eighteen I was married away though I would have preferred to join a college and continue my studies. The justification for the marriage was that a certain man was intensely in love with me, though I had nearly never talked to him. He had apparently been watching me with amorous designs. Indeed I was good to look at, even today at the ripe old age of 37, I can turn heads and stiffen pricks. I am 5'7'' with rich black flowing hair. My breast size is36 D, the pectoral slackening has resulted in a cute sag to my girlies. My golden hue is attractive indeed, this I apparently inherited from out Semitic background. My lovely shining eyes are admired by my colleagues in the shop. Also my success in life has furthermore contributed to a brilliant aura to my body. Yet I have no interest whatsoever into libidinous adventurism. It is not my cup of tea. Not that I am a prude or a pseudo moralist. I do not need a man in my life, the complications thereof are too much for my two feminine hands to handle. I have had enough, for that matter. He met my father and talked his way into an arranged marriage. My father fell into the trap because the young man did not demand any dowry in the first place, and then the boy was from a fairly rich family. Indeed these are two cardinal governing parameters in marriage deals. Love and mutual chemistry are pushed under the rug until after the nuptial chord is eternally tied. Once the initial bon homie phase is over, the fangs are bared and the venom is shared. There after realities are denuded of the aura of romance. And man cannot put asunder what God in heaven has prudently joined. However in my case the picture was still worse. The guy who went all the way to hold my hand proved to be an incorrigible alcoholic. Once his fantasy on me was fulfilled he reverted back to his jaded ways of life. Sex was no more a desirable thing, in fact it never was for me. He had his ways with my body and I just suffered through the vandalism as if it was my duty as a wife. But the dreaded nocturnal lecherous advances had lately become a lecherous nightmare. As if that was not enough, I had to suffer his mother. Through all the pores of her vicious words, puffed out the accusation that I had come without a dowry. In any case, after eighteen months of my married life I walked out on my bastard of a husband for good. I returned to my parents' house with a four months old child and a cold determination to follow my heart. Another marriage was absolutely out of question and in fact I never wanted it. But I had to prove my worth, I had to succeed, I had to carve out a space for my and also for my child. Years came to pass, my parents faded into eternal silence and slipped behind the mysterious veil of time. But in the meantime, I had been establishing myself. Ours is a small town named Kalady, on the river Poorna. This is an ancient town- the town that gave birth to Adi Sankara, the great Indian Philosopher who redeemed Hinduism from the all prevalent Buddhism twelve centuries back. Though I am a Christian for namesake, I actually follow no religion. Yet Snkara's philosophy of non-duality has caught my imagination long log back. Only our ignorance makes us grope in this delusive world. We experience the multiplicity of things, but the created and the creation are one and the same. So there is no meaning in anything except that we have to be true to ourselves and realize the unity of things. But such things are outside the gambit of my story. I began my life of freedom at Kalady, by becoming a seamstress of little consequence. Success was my ardent goalpost, I would not settle for anything less. This is a cut throat man's world where the fittest only will survive that too as long as one's fitness fits well into the ever nascent space-time cross section. It was a difficult period, indeed. You are absolutely lonely at two points in life- when you are lost and deflated and also when you reach the apex of success. I have visited both situations in my time- rather my ruthless destiny pushed me to both situations. Success was my single point programme in life, nothing else mattered, nobody was important. Personal comforts and relaxation were not on the cards. I had to convince the world that this world belongs to me also, its promises, its possibilities and its uncertainties. From an innocuous seamstress at an age of 20 I limped and dragged my way up. It was an arduous process where the universe conspired to nudge me to success. I convinced the grim and grumpy bankers, I impressed the retail Moguls in Cochin and in the textile cities of the north. By and by Alice Fabrics worked out a space in Kalady with a discerning list of committed clientele. It was a passion, I made every move like a grand master in chess. The progress had a heady impetus. Now on looking back I find myself on a plateau, relaxed at last and self confident. Now at last it is time to sit back and enjoy the show. So much the back ground, now let us flip back to the present with a click on the mental mouse. In the beginning I alluded to the synergizing events. The first one in the sequence happened today just before Christmas, earl y in the morning. It was a moderately cold December morning- the part of the day when we savor the oblivious slumber, freed from all existential worries that frown on us in the wakeful moments. And I had a dream suddenly from the blue. I was frantically making love to an Adonis, naked and deliciously cute. I was balanced on him, his heavenly phallus I was impaled with. I was pumping him and at the same time feeding my luscious breast to his eager mouth. I was bathing his balls and penis with my clear feminine juice. Thus I shatteringly came. My body convulsed and quivered, I shuddered and mewed. Then I realized embarrassingly that the boy I was claiming my pleasure from was my own son Allen. I was jolted back to wakefulness with a gnawing shame. My own son- I mulled with a guilty mind. But my body was relaxing after a rejuvenating orgasm, that too after such a long time. Probably I have never had an orgasm from a man. In fact it was never in my scheme of things. But early morning dreams are supposed to come true. For that matter, my life and my son's life have been nearly never over lapping. I had left him to his own devices, he did not need a back seat driver of a mother. He was fairly autonomous. He never troubled me with childish trivialities. We were almost never conscious of each other's existence. Perhaps my work fury made him resign to himself. May be I was incapable of loving. But it seems that my sub- conscious mind still keeps an indelible image of his. The moral side of the dream did not disturb me, I have long ago out grown all that. But the psychological side was alarming and searing enough. I came out of the bed to begin a new day. Allen had already gone to college in Cochin. I moved to the toilet to brace up for a busy day in the shop. I stood naked in front of the mirror. The nipples were still glowing after the stolen orgasm. My body seemed radiant. It had a personality of its own. Without my permission or assent it grabbed an orgasm. It is a body that demands its own share of cuddling, caring, caressing and loving. Pussy juice had dried up profusely on either thighs and had matted the furry triangle. My nether lips looked furious and oily, they were shining and hot, indeed I was ovulating. I tried to fantasize how my son looked like. He had just turned eighteen and had an athletic body which he took care of by regular exercise and football. Suddenly I fancied his lips on my nipples, they instantly became alert and queried whether it was a false promise. The nipples became stiff and slightly moist, they screamed for his lips. There was some action in my pussy, a delicious vacuum I felt inside. I was changing, I was beginning to live, and I was becoming a woman. My son had prepared breakfast for me also. I wanted to meet him, talk to him and hold him as a mother should. I had to be at Alice Fabrics by nine. There was time enough. Sipping my coffee I sashayed to my room and en route I had a sudden urge to step into his room, which I had not done for years. I was a bit excited like stepping into an alien territory, like doing something blasphemous. His room was not locked, as he knows that nobody ventures into it in normal course. The room was indeed chaotic, with books, periodicals and worn clothes strewn around. 'All ye enter here give up all hope', there was a bizarre warning on the wall. Near his table there was a notice: 'Do not disturb cobweb, it is part of interior décor, do not touch anything unusual, it may explode, do not disturb the disorder, it is my order; do not disturb rats and cockroaches, they are my bed mates.' Just a regular bachelor's den. Then I opened his aged portmanteau, it was mine long back. I expected something inside. There were few notebooks, some certificates and unused books. I took one of his notebooks. It had a weird language. I am fairly uncanny in breaking codes. And I did indeed beak him. It was simple- n=1. In place of 'a' use 'b' and so on. His private dairy proved to be a gold trove of obsessive confessions. For the last eight years, that is from he was ten, he had been recording his feelings towards me, it was a daily journal recording my clothing of each day, my hair style, how my boobes enticed him, how my bum distracted him. How much he craved to suck on my girlies, how he savored my feminine musk, his wet dreams of sleeping with me. The taboo nature of the work notwithstanding, I was terribly amused and excited. I felt stirrings in my body, my body was perspiring and palpitation was fairly audible. It was enticing that my 18 year old son loves me and adores me. But nothing could be done about that. The moral side of it did not much bother me, but the emotional black hole that may evolve scared me, if something more than innocuous fantasy takes place, it might devour us all. Still the realization that a young fellow from the opposite sex virtually worships me seemed promising. Perhaps the basic reason for the same is that I have never been a good mother to him. I have nearly never mother-hened him. I remained remote and unapproachable. I was lost in my passion to succeed in life, to assert that I am. Any way I decided to burrow deep into his journals in due course. Alice fabrics had to be opened by nine. This development could be cold and disgusting, qualmish and eerie. But I found it tastefully decadent, treacherously tipsy and deviously euphoric. The author of the very next synergizing event was my friend Maria. I have no real friends, I trust none but keep all in good spirits. Maria is a rich lady whose husband is abroad. She has money and she has fastidious tastes. I oblige her as she is a precious customer. My seamstresses make close fitting blouses for her, which nobody else in town is capable of. It is my business knack to keep her and all other spoiled and decadent customers in good spirits. By the time I had begun to grapple with accounts, invoices and orders, she came to my chamber to spend some time with me. 'oh, Maria you look really good today, time has failed on you,' I flattered the 39 years old lady, who looks somewhat like me, except that she is a grade more plumb and her hair slightly wavy. 'You must know why, dear Alice,' she winked and said conspiratorially, 'gifted lips, delicious tongue, subtle fingers and a magnificent cock- they make it.' 'You wicked,' I laughed. 'This is something you miss, you healthy and upbeat, but you need a man to make your life livable. Good sex makes you healthy and beaming. Self denial is writ large on your eyes and face. You can be shining and radiant with the right dose of sex.' 'No, no. I cannot afford such complications. I had had enough and it is too late. Man is trouble, I am happy the way I am,' I summarily dismissed that grim prospect. 'But there is somebody who adores you, he even worships the ground that you walk on. If you give him a chance, you will never be looking back and the chemistry of life will be altered for good for all time to come.' 'Who could that hapless fellow be?' I feigned surprise. 'He is somebody very close to you. His mind and body are designed to please a woman. His natural instincts are exquisite and I have fine tuned his talents. My body is screaming to have him all the time. But lately I realized that he has fixated you on me. He makes love to every part of my body fantasizing you.' 'You devil, who is he?' 'He is just in front of you,' she giggled and darted out in a hurry, as if dodging an imminent attack. There was nothing in front of me, except files. Could he be one of the clerks I have been dealing with? Then I saw it, under the thick glass panel on my table there was a photograph- a photograph of me and my son on his seventeenth birthday. I felt surprised and taunted. I went after her and practically dragged her back to my chamber. She was laughing to have irked me. 'You dirty devil, he is my son. You have confessed to have lured him into debauchery and is it not enough for once?' 'Your son or my son-who cares? It is real fun to have a son like him. I would have made love to him, even if he were my son. Who can resist his charm, his lips, his fingers, his tongue? You know not what you miss. Have him when you have him and forget your hyper sensitive orthodoxy.' She patted my shoulder and marched out in her feminine glory. The day rolled on in a haze. I could not concentrate. I retired to my private toilet in the shop and surveyed me in the mirror. I unclipped my saree and felt my bust. They were ripe glossy and in the prime of life. I imagined Allen's lips and fingers on them. The effect was magical after all these years. My nipples tingled and quivered. They strained to pierce the bra cups in the hope of securing my son's lips. I realized that my panties were being wetted by clear syrup. Strange things were sweeping past my anatomy. The woman in me had been hibernating all these eighteen years. Now she seemed to be waking up with a vengeance. Is it possible? No matter what happens, Maria does not have to know it, it will be between us, mother and son and nothing should spill outside the domestic walls. I went home a little early, as the business woman in me had taken a retreat. I reclined on the divan at home and wondered what was happening. The cool lemonade felt its way down my agitated body. Then he came in after his evening tennis. I had to have an eyeful of him as I had been blindly seeing him all these years. He acknowledged my presence with an innocent smile. That was our way of communication. Words had grown precious. I echoed his smile. Indeed he is deliciously beautiful. Those shining eyes, intelligent forehead, silky flowing hair, delicate lips, chiseled biceps, enticing chest and flat abdomen. His fingers were tender and long. I fancied those lips on my nipples, then on my nether lips. I smiled and scent of my arousal wafted in the room. I looked at him with a silent language of endearment. 'You look tired today, mother,' he inferred. 'Yes business is telling on me,' I lied. He came to divan and dropped the racket. I was reclining, with the front of saree removed to cool off after the day. He sat at my feet, unsure of himself. I savored him with a newly fanged interest. His body in its totality danced with life and grace. The thin film of perspiration made his skin shine. 'Shall I massage your feet to make you feel better?' 'Please, I need it child,' Then I remembered how he worshipped my feet and toes in his secret diary. In his fantasies he had slurped and kissed my toes many times over. His fingers felt gentle cool and silken. He pulled at my toes, caressed the space in between them and worshiped the feel of my skin. I felt relaxed and mysteriously excited. 'Your legs are exquisitely smooth, like alabaster,' he said mostly to himself. 'Do you love them,' I asked with a devilish grin. 'Indeed I do.' 'You can feel them if you want' He rolled my underskirt and saree up to my knee, I saw him shivering, and his cute enticing hands were shaky. 'So nice, so beautiful,' he murmured despite himself. 'Can I kiss them also?' "May be,' I smiled. He kissed in style, beginning from the toes, then the sole, the ankles, the shin. He kissed every single cuticle of the shin and with painful patience reached the knees, the land's end for all practical purposes. 'Your fragrance is intoxicating,' he said. In fact the odor of my excitement was filling the room with its natural fugacity. 'Do you love my feminine smell?' "More than anything in the world,' he sniffed purposely. 'It wafts from my private parts,' He sniffed in between my knees. I had an urge to offer him more of me. But I should not. I opened my knees a little. He poked his head a little inside and sniffed hard. He must be eyeing my pure white panties and the wetness spreading on the gusset. This made me more excited and more wetness gushed out. 'Your scent surpasses the most exotic flower in the world. So sweet, so mesmerizing, so heavenly,' he kept whispering awe stricken, as if in a church. 'Now we must stop,' I pulled myself together and got up with a staunch will. He also stood up like a puling mule, crest fallen and confused. I could see the outline of his promising erection in his trousers. 'Dear Allen, I understand your feelings, there is nothing to be ashamed of it. It is a passing phase,' I said. 'This is not a passing phase, this is forever,' he said helplessly. 'How do you know?' "I felt like this as long as I can remember, I will be like this to the last of my breath. I adore you and love you with a oblivious abandon. You are with me in my dreams, in my wakeful moments, in my college, in my helpless reveries, in my most solemn moments. You have filled every pore of my soul. You are the warp and woof of every heavenly dream my subconscious mind concocts.' 'In understand, I have not been a good mother to you. I was lost in my own world. I feel sorry for you. I was not there when you needed a motherly moral prop,' I hugged him with a new surge of love. 'Thank you mother,' he sighed. 'It will be disastrous if we succumb to our passions, we must learn to moderate ourselves,' I said unsure of myself. 'Love is not to be hoarded. It has to flow out. Words left unsaid can be, you know, can be.. very cancerous,' he smiled mechanically to hide his embarrassment. 'I know darling, I know,' He was devouring me with his shining eyes. Suddenly a silent deal was struck, many things inside were unfettered, the flood gates were open. 'I must go and take bath now. Since you love me in a different way, you can come and help me to change,' I said. Suddenly his body brightened. We proceeded to my bedroom. He was all too anxious to help. Like an exotic flower 'First you unclip my hair and uncoil it.' There was no fussiness, he did it with a deftly cleverness. 'I know how to do it, I have done it many times over in my fantasy,' he declared. He buried his face in my hair and inhaled deeply. 'Your hair is as soft as the gentle silken breeze of December. Cool soft and copious. And it smells like a bed of poppies.' 'Now open and unroll my saree and fold it back on the rack,' I commanded feigning mock seriousness. He plunged upon the new mission with a pious dedication. 'Do you like my blouse?' "Very much. it fits marvelously to your ... to your beautiful assets,' 'My beautiful assets!,' I laughed. 'Your blouse is close fitting to your celestial anatomy. Just like your second skin.' I stitch my blouses myself, nobody can do it better. Many women need their blouses done by me, it is an art. I looked down on my bust. My lovely girlies were cutely filled into the blouse cups, encased in the 36 D brassiere. 'I wish I could be your blouse, I wish I could be your bra, so that I could be close to your .. to your heart all the time,' 'You naughty boy, come on, open it and help me to the bath,' He opened my blouse, hook by hook. His palm swishing over the rich excited globes. He peeled off the blouse and inhaled deeply the scent of mine on it. 'What a naughty boy you have grown to be,' I gathered him and pulled him to me. He yielded to me and laid his lovely head on my bust, just above the breast. Involuntarily he kissed my skin after a few moments of getting adjusted to the new experience. Then he licked the skin tentatively. 'Oh my', I gasped, 'I know what you need.' I pulled down one of the cups of my bra and offered him a furious nipple waiting to explode. His lips were immediately latched to it. The feeling was beyond language. I found myself quivering and hissing. He passionately licked my aureole and the rest of the delicious melon that was denied a man's touch for many, many years of its existence. Exasperated, I guided his lips to the nipple again. He was obedient, his right hand, on its own moved to my other breast. I knew something was happening to my body, against my will. I was coming like a tornado. It was a new experience. I had never climaxed with my husband. The only orgasm I have ever had was with a sophisticated lady. Whilst taking measurements of bust, things progressed step by step to a transient lesbian intimacy. But that is yet another story. 'Oh, my child what is happening to me? 'Your body is only acknowledging my adoration, for many many years I have secretly been worshipping your assets. These are the most mesmerizing part of you,' he inferred with satisfaction. My son was very correct. I know that even women are distracted by my perfectly shaped cones of luscious grace. Sometimes I have even capitalized on them in my business war. So far I have never shared them with any man after my aborted marriage. The violent orgasm made me sweetly weak, I wanted to slump and lay back forgetting every mundane concern. Quite flushed and worn out I collapsed on the bed. He religiously untied my underskirt and pulled it down. I knew that my milky white panties were very wet and soaked. He tentatively ventured to pull them down. I obligingly lifted my butt. The syrupy honey had glued the gusset to my core. With coveting gaze he peeped into the panties, just pulled out. 'You made it all wet and smelly,' I accused in half sleep. 'Thank you for making this, you know not for how many years I have craved for winning a drop of this heavenly feed,' he was sniffing at the gusset in a hypnotic trance. I smiled in my dazed afterglow. In one swipe he collected a wad full of my mucus on his tongue and showed it to me. It spread cutely and gracefully on his tongue and then he closed his moth. He closed his eyes and was enjoying the taste and scent. 'Oh, goddess mother, this is heavenly feed indeed, I knew that you would taste great, just like the mix of fruits,' he declared. 'Have you tasted any other woman,' I asked innocently as if I did not know. He was taken by surprise. 'Yes, a nice lady has tutored by how to please a woman. But her honey is milky white and it has an earthy twang. Yours is pure, clear and tastes divine.' I remembered the days when my juices were running out for nothing. I had ignored then as a ephemeral nuisance. 'I am all spoiled, I must take a bath,' I dragged myself to the bath room. He followed like a lolling puppy. I knew that his eyes were glued to my curvaceous bum. I swayed them deliberately. I applied soap on my breasts and pubic hair and caressed those private regions to make him happy. He helped me to wipe myself dry. The atmosphere was charged with high voltage passions. Sparks streaked between us, between our eyes, between our hands. My panties tickled and teased my pussy. After a hurried dinner, he was hovering around expecting something more. Usually we have our food at separate times. Today things are different. He helped me with the dish washing. Often brushing my bum, often sniffing my hair, often brushing past my bust. While I was busy washing the towel bending over the sink, I felt him kneeling behind be and sniffing in the cleft between my buttocks. Of course I was wet. I was tipsy with desire. I pretended to be unaware of him and softly pressed my anus to his nose on an off. He might have got a good smell of my essence as I was practically naked except for the thin translucent night gown. 'It is surprising that you have fallen for an old hag like me,' I teased. 'You are the most beautiful, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. As far as I am concerned, none can hold a candle to your beauty. I have never seen, not even in pictures, such beautiful breasts. They are perfect, with a tongue watering sag. The entire world ceases to be when I am near them.' 'Oh my darling,' I opened my gown a bit for his benefit. 'Don't you think that they are a bit large for me?' 'Never, they are perfect. You have protected them with the right kind of blouses and bras. Ten years ago you measured 34C, six years ago you were 35 and six months ago you marvelously filled into perfect 36D. I have been recording how you have been clothing your perfect body for the last many years. Now I know that they are very sensitive to love. See how they receive me,' he stretched his right hand and fondled my breast. He opened a few more hooks and used both hands to delicately love and pamper the girls. 'I am happy that I protected my girlies so long. Though they are attached to me, hereon they are yours and you must take care of them,' I stated. 'Indeed I will. They have to be oiled and massaged with herbal oils and must be encased in comfortable and supporting bra cups. I will see to that,' he said. 'So very cunning of you, dirty brat,' I chided mockingly. 'I am honored to be allowed to worship you,' Allen said. 'You could have tasted me from my used panties, did you not do that?' "Not that I would not rather I could not. I did not want to violate you. I did not want to pilfer into your sacro sanct world. I wanted to worship you from a distance.' I was moved. 'I am only a human being, not a goddess. "You are celestial, at least to me..' 'I am happy that now I have an admirer at home.' 'That too forever, till the last of the grain of sand is petrified again and the flux of time runs its mysterious course', he declared gallantly. 'Can I ask you a favour?' 'Ask, you will be given.' 'Can I have your freshly used panties hereafter?' 'Why, I myself am with you always?' 'But I want to keep something intimate, something that exudes your true fragrance' 'Yes dear, you can have them, but I do not always secrete that on the gusset. But please do not stretch them, especially the gusset,' I said. After the nocturnal chores, it was time to retire to rooms. He lingered expecting something more. 'Good night, and thank you for giving me a beautiful evening, and merry Christmas too,' I said kissing him on the cheek. Somehow the kiss lasted long and our lips met. His tongue deliciously snaked its ambitious way into my mouth. It dueled with my tongue, caressed the roof of my mouth and licked my full set of teach. I was weak again. 'You dirty boy, where did you learn this,' I gasped. He smiled mischievously, "I have longed for it for years. Your mouth tastes great as I expected. Your teeth are like buds of jasmine. I have fulfilled a long cherished desire.' He might have got a taste of the dessert I had after dinner. Our bodies were riveted into one by our passionate arms. We were fused into one. 'Come to my room and let me see how you love me,' I said. The gentle Christmas night dragged on outside. Christmas stars were twinkling in every house, carol songs reverberated on the roads. The cool, cozy, rejuvenating December night enveloped us. After long, long years of physical desolation, I was offering myself as my Christmas gift to my dear child, my own flesh and blood. The rationality thereof can wait for another day. It appeared to be the most natural thing. In my bedroom he stood looking at me dazed, as if he had seen an apparition. Strangely a freak thought on Sankaracharya flashed past me. I realized the essential unity of life. All life, transcending the myriad show of time and space would merge into an absolute unity. The feeling of multiplicity, the delusion of diversity, is drowned in the rarified world of no tags attached love. 'Come-on, show me how you love me,' I taunted. He was suddenly brought back to reality and came near to me. Then as if unveiling a gift from God, he touched the hem of my translucent night gown and lifted it. I raised my arms to help him get me out of the robe. I pirouetted in my private bed room to help him absorb my frame. Then I reclined on the soft warm bed, my body agog with anticipation. His eyes were ablaze with passion. As I anticipated, he began at my feet. Gathering both my feet into his hands, he kissed them and ran his soft fingers over them. Then to my surprise, he pushed my big toe into his mouth. The effect on me was unprecedented. I shivered with a delicious passion. 'Oh mother,' he was whimpering. He was licking and massaging each toe and the space in between the toes with his magical tongue. My torso bucked and quivered uncontrollably. 'Oh my, oh my god, my darling,' I heard me yelping. He kissed, petal soft kisses, on my sole and it gravitated to my soul. His deft and lips moved upward slowly as if an eternity was before him. I waited soft and pliable. He kissed his way up, lingering on my shin, making love to my knees, hugging and licking my thighs. I thought that he was progressing to the ultimate, to feed on the honey I was oozing out for my darling. No, he flipped me over. He wanted to wait in agonized anticipation for the crowning moment. He was on my bum, running his fluttering fingers on my sensitive behind. Now his lips were on them. He was kissing and caressing them with his tongue. I writhed and cooed. His tongue veered in between the luscious and ripe globes. My body, without my obvious consent, spread my thighs to give him easy access. Now his tongue was at the most secretive part of mine. 'Oh mommy divine,' he ranted devouring my nether hole. I was making strange sounds. 'The ring of hair around you down here is beautiful,' he huffed. He licked on each hair down there. 'So soft, the angelic hairs are standing guard over the delicious opening,' he panted illegibly. 'My darling, my darling,' I kept ranting. The he bit one strand of hair and pulled on them. I squealed with pleasant pain. He came up chewing and eating one or two hairs. I was tremendously moved. 'Who taught you this wicked thing?' "Somebody who knows better,' he chuckled. 'Has your teacher got soft hair down there?' "Not much, not this lovely either,' he revealed. Now he was on my navel region, his hands and his lips leaving behind a tail of beloved Goosebumps. After an exquisitely long period of time he was at last on my impatient tits. Both his hands adored them, and his lips claimed them with pious determination. My body had gone beyond my control long back. My body needed it so very bad for so long- the touch of a loving hand. It was happening, my own child was doing it. My own man. Now his lips were in my armpits, softly teasing the silken tuft of hair. The perfume of my toilet soap must still be there. He was licking my armpit like an ice-cream cone. Now there is no turning back, the tremendous moment in my whole bloody life has come. 'For at least ten years I have rehearsed this, savoring your blessed armpits,' he declared. I opened my arms more for my child and kissed his crown lovingly. He kissed gently my neck and my collar bone. At last he was on my lips. He gently licked my outer lips and then pressed his way in persistently. I cannot deny him. His tongue was inside my mouth, he was lost in an oblivious bliss. I was riding the crest of a gargantuan carnal passion, which I had never felt for anybody. He was a perfect kisser, Maria has obviously fine tuned his talents. I ran my hand on the back of his head, encouraging him and my tongue was lost in a sweet duel with his. They seemed to have personalities of their own. My body had recognized its mate, its alter ego, its true counterpart. I was heady with passion. Sparks of passion ricocheted in the air. Then his tongue invaded my ear lobes, and then the back of my ears. He kissed my eyes, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling. Again he moved down, lingering on my tits lovingly, like a devout pilgrim at the shrine. He wonderful lips are moving down south, many things are possible. Will he again bypass my core are repeat it all? At last he was there. He showered butterfly kisses on my soft perfumed mat of hair. Then he ran his feathery tongue on either side of the puffed lips. His tongue moved down to my ass hole once again and worshipped my opening with a determination. Again he came up hill, this time fortunately he was clamped to my core. My pristine love was pouring into the starved mouth of my dear child. 'Let me see this heavenly garden to my heart's content. Let me worship this for the rest of my life, the life giver, the spring of rejuvenating nectar, the center of the universe. There is not a single human being who does not at times desire to shut himself up into the safe aquatic environment of his mother's inside. This is my home, my shrine, my chapel, my salvation,' hi s soliloquy dragged on, lovingly eyeing my private garden. I never shave down there. He was happily fluffing the wisps down there. 'Here, darling,' I encouraged him running my hands on his bushy soft hair. I could feel my love flowing copiously into his eager mouth. Even while drinking the sweet syrup, my child took care on and off to tantalizingly lick my clitoris. He knew the trick, teasing the clit produces more honey. He was latched there as a calf at its dam's udder. I loved the feel. I felt that I was feeding life into my child, the ultimate nourishment. I watched my body behaving wantonly, as if it was all very natural. Indeed love has reason, the act of love knows no treason. I was lifting my torso to feed him more, to devour him into me, to make him my own, to be me. I distantly heard warning signals. I heard the peal of church bells. I heard fulminating blaze of carnal conflagration. My body writhed and slithered. I thought I was going to urinate, I thought I was going to defecate, I thought I was going to explode, I thought that my nipples were getting wet, I thought I was blacking out. I thought that I was dying for good. Then I experienced mouthfuls of my delicious honey shooting into his mouth. My poor darling was struggling not to waste a drop. Slowly I slipped into a delicious slumber, oblivious of everything, it was a dreamless sleep, a therapeutic sleep after many years. When I opened my eyes into a warm sunny Christmas morning, relaxed and rejuvenated, he was still there. Bathed, cleaned and fresh. He gave me a good morning kiss and said, 'look, what I have done on my sanctum sanctorum.' I looked down and was surprised to see that my pussy was bedecked with a motley of flowers. The fragrance of flowers filled the room. 'Sweet boy,' I smiled. He came and sat on the bed. His hands automatically came to my relaxed breasts and began to fondle them. I felt pampered and spoiled. 'Are we doing something wrong?' I asked. 'The strong is never wrong, the wrong ones are never strong. We are what we think we are, we are what we eat, we are what we meet. But then love needs no explanation, no foot notes,' he rhymed coyly. "What do you think love is?' "Love is sacrifice. Love is giving oneself up for the beloved. God so loved the world that he gave himself up that the world may live forever. This Christmas night we get nearer to God by knowing each other more dearly.' 'I am happy that you are not devastated by the force of new events,' I said. 'There is nothing new, Eve was loved by her kids, apparently.' 'But you can be sorry when you know the truth of things' 'Knowledge is a pile of lies and wisdom is the style of life. No man is a rival to his mother- he is the beloved extension of herself. Her love for him is an extended Narcissism', ' 'But you know, there is retribution of God for going astray', 'There is no retribution for true love and it is not a crime to be true. Suppressed and muffled emotions are more inflammable and lethal than the imperious social ballistics on expressed emotions.' 'What if I had been thick to your profound passions?' 'I have learned somewhere that life is a separation and a helplessness and love is the therapeutic oblivion. But love rejected is sadly poetic, the denied avenues are pathetically romantic.' 'Come here man child,' I pulled him by his gorgeous erection. He got on his feet and came close to me. Immediately I opened his fly and pulled out his magnificent and magnanimous erection for his mother. In no time he was in my mouth. 'How long will you last?' I asked. 'As long as you want,' he bragged. Within five minutes he flooded me with his ultimate offering. It tasted good and yummy. I gulped it down with real pride and affection. He had offered the water of life to me, his mother. He still remained stiff. I pulled him to my bed and said, 'you insatiable man beast, let me show you what you need.' I straddled him the way I had dreamt in the morning. I pushed his member straight into my wet core like knife into butter. Then I fed one of nipples into his eager mouth. I found myself pumping him in a primordial abandon. Again I found another orgasm building in me. I flooded him with my clear delicious juices. Still he remained stiff. 'I guess I need one more orgasm to make up for the past. This time we'll come together, okay,' I said. He nodded ebulliently. In fact I wanted him to come inside me, I wanted it desperately. That alone will clinch our deal, our eternal bond. Again I was squeezing his member, humping like a possessed creature. 'Yes mommy, it is coming, it is coming,' he cried. 'Let it be, just enjoy it with me,' This time we made it together. I collapsed on his chest and laughed on the wickedness of it. This is the brilliant way to begin a Christmas day, our own secretive way. We still remained coupled. He was deep inside me, feeling and feeding my famished internal gate, quenching the thirst of my soul, filling in the voids and black holes inside me. When I could recoup myself from the post orgasmic daze, I slid out of his chest and hugged him lovingly. Then we began out sweet talk, heart to heart, casually exploring each other's body. In due course I found myself on top of him again, but with a different orientation. My face was on his drenched loins, I licked the mixed juices from his balls and member. I pulled off the foreskin of my child and closely studied its texture. He was clean, bathed in my enticing juice. In the height of my passion I reveled my own juice on him. Like an exotic flower Still more important, my greedy pussy was glued to his lovely mouth. I was feeding him again, this time our mixed juices, but mostly mine as his had largely oozed out of me as I was on top. I could decipher his unconditional love exuded from his mind and body. Love never lies, even behind the veneer of white lies, there lies bottomless goodwill. In those sedated moments, it dawned on me that love never dies, and when one dies love is unfettered from the deluding grossness. Only one has to be true to one's feelings in the name of love. Jocasta flunked because she dreaded the force of love. Oedipus tasted the truth that lies low in every mortal form in human form. But then there is society and it s prudish pretentions. Society did not come through when I was alone and tied to deprecating privations. Sign posts are an integral part of social engineering. This moment marks the happy denouement of my lonely life and there is no tomorrow to frown at me menacingly. We strain for nothing when brain takes over, we ease into a lovely strain when love takes over. Happiness has to be the way and not the end. 'You are spoiling me and even my business,' I happily observed. "Here real big pussiness is involved, business can wait because your pussy will be busy hereafter,' he said with a glee. Now that we have each other, I realized that physical love is the crowning moment of a standing mutuality. I guess I have regained the music of life, riding the magic carpet of love. No I realize with a sad satisfaction that life is not success alone. The meaning of life lies in yielding, sharing and sacrificing. I cannot deny my body to my beloved and I cannot deny my body what it needs, I cannot deny my soul what it needs. Thus our life into an eternity began, finding solace and happiness in each other. Still I will let him service Maria, when I am on my periods. But he loves to make love to me even when I am on my period. It is enticing and exciting to me. He even wants to make oral love to me during the monthly ooze also. May be we will try it one day. In love there are no taboos. In love there are no contradictions. I looked forward to a long time of present moments pleasantly basking in the sun of my son. When all is said and done, these sadly happy memories will remain.