[The following story is fictional, and all characters are of legal age.]
I woke up alone again in my mother's bed, sleeping quite soundly after she manually brought me to a climax. The dried semen was evident on my boxers and shorts, and I wondered how my mom cleaned up her hand: my heart skipped a beat at the thought that, after I quickly went to sleep, she may have brought her hand to her lips to lick her fingers clean.
With a new pair of shorts on, I walked into the kitchen, where I found my mother eating cereal and dressed for work.
"I'm so sorry about last night," I told her before she even had a chance to wish me good morning.
She smiled, finished her bite of cereal, got up and put her hands on my shoulders.
"You have nothing to apologize for, sweetie. You're a young man with physical needs, and I just helped you out a little."
Relieved, I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer, my body already stirring in my shorts.
"That. Was. Wonderful, Momma. Thank you."
"You're welcome!" she replied, as she pulled my head down for a quick but passionate French kiss. "Now let's get ready for the day."
-----
The changes in our relationship hardly distracted me from schoolwork, not least compared to the frequent agony of an unrequited infatuation. When my mind started drifting to my mother's lips and hips and breasts, I just reminded myself to calm down, remembering that I was hers and she was mine -- and that I only had a couple more weeks until graduation.
An academic overachiever who turned 18 at the beginning of the year, I excelled at juggling the many subjects and assignments at school even now, while I realized how much I was learning at home. My mother had taught me how to kiss like a lover, and I wanted to learn so much more, but she didn't want our relationship to affect my schoolwork, so I usually kept working diligently.
Today was different. I barely paid attention as I kept thinking about what I would ask my mom that night, what I hoped she would teach me.
I could hardly sleep, laying down with my early bedtime and waiting to see the hall lights turn off as my mother headed to bed. The lights flickered off, and I almost leaped out of bed and ran through the hallway.
"I hate to bother you," I said, standing in my mother's bedroom doorway, "but can I sleep in your bed tonight?"
"Of course," she said, and I quickly crawled into what had become my side of the bed.
For some reason, I expected her to turn off the last, soft light on her nightstand before taking off the heavy cotton robe. Instead she unzipped with the light still on, and with her standing by the light in her silky and nearly sheer nightgown, I got a glimpse of her nearly nude body -- her breasts, still surprisingly firm for her age; the tiny tummy that all her exercise could never quite remove; her shapely thighs...
She laid down and turned off the light, rolling into me so I could hold her tightly.
