==========
Author's Note: This is a 40K word story, divided into chapters for easier read. It was initially thought as a short story that grown into a bigger work, and it's a slow burn because that's how I enjoy writing at the moment. Your comments and opinions are welcomed.
==========
Chapter 2 - Dark Temptation
"Will you be there?" Adam asked his mother, gym bag over his shoulder, biceps curled in a promiscuous flex. His smile made her shiver, and she wished she could keep some feelings at bay.
Marge tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and looked up at her son. "Yes. Natasha is coming with me, too."
He leaned down and kiss her on the cheek. A fire burned throughout her, and everything turned into a blur, and before she knew it, she was falling back, with the world spinning around like a comet around the sun, heart skipping too many beats, and the lights fading away. Only Adam's voice was real, but he was too distant, fading, fading in the darkness.
It was an eternity for her, but in fact, it was less than three minutes of darkness. Something was on her lips, wetting them, gentle hands tapping on her face. A tiny fringe of light came through, and Adam's enormous vulture emerged from the shadows.
"Mom?"
A pang of anguish broke the velvet of his voice. "Mom, are you ok?" he asked again, a state of worry she had never seen before, firm hands holding her head, and helping her to drink.
"What happened?" she inquired, holding Adam's wrist. "You were about to leave for your game."
"You fainted, mom."
"Oh." Her lips were dry, and she accepted more water. Big, strong arms, with muscles she followed, tracing them back to his hairy armpits, and caring eyes. "I fainted?" He positioned behind her and helped to sit up on the couch.
"How's your head?"
She hummed. "It's ok. You need to go."
"I'm not leaving you."
Some color was finally emerging into Marge's thick lips. "It's ok. I'm ok now. I used to have this in the past, your father..." she made a pause as if reciting his name would be worse than blasphemy, "...a few times. I'll see doctor Sneider tomorrow."
"You promise?"
"I do." She forced a smile. Her head was still spinning, and she couldn't stop thinking about her sins from before, and how much there was between Adam's legs. She was never one to think about sizes, or to even considerate a man's value based on such a vanity thing, but the image imprinted in her head since this morning was the spit image of his father. She recalled the day he finally allowed her to touch it, to discover his secret.
She waved goodbye as Adam jogged his way to the stadium a few hours before the game. Today was important, but not decisive. Her afternoon slowly went away in a shower and makeup. Natasha rang the doorbell, ready to take her to the stadium, and both women, best friends since an eternity ago, were looking their best.
Natasha, a slim but yet imposing woman, had a long green polka dress that shouted summer everywhere, and high heels to make her taller than the players in the game.
"You going like that?" she inquired, seeing Marge emerging from the front door wearing jeans and a blouse.
"What's wrong with this? It's classic."
"You just look too gorgeous. All those football boys won't leave you alone."
And what was meant to be a fun remark turned words into a curse, as Marge felt horribly guilty. "I'll change, then. Just give me a few minutes."
Natasha stepped out of the car. "What? Oh, come on, don't be all catholic now. It was a joke."
She was pale, palms sweating, leaning against the doorway. Somehow, everything was too real to her. Natasha held her hand and went to get some water from the kitchen. The impact of her own son was still reverberating on her body, and she wasn't strong enough to cope with that.
"What happened just now?" Natasha asked as the sun flowed down through the living room window, with its fiery orange tones flooding in.
She would never disclose such a perversion, even to her best friend, and instead weaved little white lies and how she was going to see Dr. Sneider soon. She felt better after what sugary water, and let Natasha drove her to the stadium. Soon, the euphoria of the modest crowd made her forget about her worries, and the thick chants brought her to tears as Adam played on superstar level.
He knelt on the grass floor, celebrating, soon to be joined by multiple jocks just like him, testosterone running dangerously high and impregnating the field. The other mothers were all there, part of their own support group, in how to support their sons to achieve their dreams and ambitions. For Marge was a way to be with other mothers, and celebrate their sons more than anything else. She never seen Adam as a way out straight into celebrity status and a high luxury life.
Marge met with some other mothers, waiting for the men to finish showering. The conversation topics were initially all centered in Adam, and how well he played, but Marge made an effort to steer the conversation in other directions, as every time she talked about her son all she could think about was his penis drooling, and how that made her come so strong after so many years.
She thought about the locker rooms and the showers, and wondered if the other boys were as gifted as Adam. Again, her world spun around, as she fought, with an urge never seen before, the temptation her body was begging to have. Even in the middle of all these women, she could taste the fire burning in her legs, her lips swollen, engorged, soaking up the emotions from that morning.
"Marge?"
She woke up from her daydreaming, having Natasha looking back at her, and, at her side, Tony, her 21-year-old son, a gorgeous young man. In front of her, Adam, open arms and ready to greet his mother. It was all too much in one go, but she congratulated him, holding back as much as she could. The two boys were excited, talking fast, the adrenaline of the game flowing through their veins.
They all went to have dinner, gigantic steaks for the men, while the two mothers happily observed and chatted about that night's events. Marge drank a glass of red wine, feeling more at ease around her son, and as the hour went by, she ordered another one, feeling the light tipsiness she enjoyed so much.
Tony took a liking to her, complimenting Marge on her jeans and magnificent turquoise blouse, and she knew he also noticed her cleavage. It wasn't much, but that blouse was a favorite of her - simultaneously conservative and progressive enough, leaving a lot to the imagination, but giving just enough amount of teasing. She was happy to have changed from that white t-shirt.
She didn't wear it on purpose, but as the years went by after her traumatic divorce, she realized using sexy clothes was a way to lift her mood. Somehow, knowing she was desired had a positive impact on her.
