A Mothers Touch Ch 03 05

==========

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 3 - A Knife Through The Heart

Sunday started with a headache for both mother and son. She walked down to the kitchen to drink water, still in her dressing gown, her heavy breasts covered by only one thin layer of clothing, and saw the wine bottle and the two glasses in the living room. She tidied it up and wondered what the fuck she was doing with her life. Too many wrong things, and she couldn't believe she had almost kissed him.

She planned her day around Natasha, as they wanted to go to a market near to home, and she thought it would be a good idea to be away from Adam.

She needed time to get her ideas straight. She didn't dare to enter his room, as his door was closed, but she leaned over it, her ear to against the door, her fingers dangerously close to her center. But Marge was adamant that she didn't want to masturbate to her son again, neither that was healthy in any way.

The day was cloudy outside, and the light in the kitchen was a moody slumber. The clock pointed for nine in the morning, but it felt much earlier than that, as her head was pounding, and she took some hangover medication she had left. It wasn't like her to go so strong on the wine, what's gotten into her?

And then everything came to her mind at once. Adam's sweet scent, his shower gel mixed with his own body odor, was so strong and simple, but so appealing at the same time. His hairy chest, strong pecs, muscular everything that made her want to keep touching. His lips, so sweet, and a promise of a damn good time. She felt bad for wanting him, and despite her efforts to let him go of her head, he was returning rather quickly. As in the day she kissed his father for the first time, a promise of a universe imploding her mouth, his member throbbing, and his premature love all over her hands. The shame in his face, the unexpected in hers.

How did she and her husband overcome his premature ejaculation problem? It was years and years ago. Memory was not to be trusted in some details, and she didn't think it was such a bad thing. But when you're young, it's different, and round two was always better than round one, and she made it a habit instead of a problem. In time, though, it became an obsession for her ex-husband, and one of the founding stones of their separation. And she didn't want her son to feel the same way. She was going to support him, no matter what, but she had to create a barrier between them. No more could she allow him to think she had any sexual interest in him.

Marge walked back up the stairs, stopping as she reached the last step, as Adam was walking towards the bathroom they shared, naked, nothing on his body, only muscles and a rocking hard erection. He closed the door behind him, not noticing his mother on the stairs, and she quickly entered her room, fighting and losing the battle against masturbation. Marge wetted her fingers on her tongue, and slid them down, keeping the image of his cock so present that it felt real. She wanted more than fingers, but for now that was all she was getting, biting her pillow as she came. She stood motionless for a while, letting her body cool down.

After a long warm shower, she wrapped a towel around her body, another one in her hair, and stepped out, finding Adam getting ready to go do the laundry. "Morning, mom," he said, his body wrapped in a tight t-shirt and gray sweatpants, "do you have anything there? I'm going to wash this load."

"Mo... Morning," she said, feeling his eyes all over her body. "Did you sleep well?"

"Got a headache, but I'm fine otherwise. That wine, uh?"

"That wine, indeed. But you look fresh as a lettuce, like my mother used to say." She noticed he wasn't using any underwear, no attempts to conceal his long, soft cock. This wasn't like him. "Any plans for the day?"

"I'm going to hang out with Tony later on."

"That's nice. I'm going to see Natasha. There's a market we want to explore."

He smiled, eyes again moving into her large breasts, and then back again into her eyes. "Cool. Right, is there anything you want me to wash?"

And she blushed. "I'll do that, don't worry. I have some underwear I need to sort out, so if you leave the basked downstairs, I'll do it."

He thought of it. Of her underwear. Of holding it in his hands, sniffing it, taking it into his cock as he jerked off. Of stealing it. Before he knew it, there was something growing between his legs.

"You ok?" she asked, looking into his eyes, and knowing very well what she started was long from ending. Only she could put a final point to it, and despite her strength, she was unable to do it. She could not stop their story from happening further. And it was like Adam just woke up from a trance.

"Uh," it was all he could utter for a few seconds, mesmerized. "I'm ok, yes. Sorry. Just thinking about yesterday, you know?"

Panic bells were ringing all over Marge's head, and she didn't ignore them this time. "Yesterday was the wine talking, son."

"Was it? I told myself that this morning, but now, I'm not so sure."

She held the towel tighter around her body, feeling her nipples hardening. "I think I'm sure enough. I'm going to get changed now. Natasha should be here in about an hour."

Adam was about to say something, but thought twice, keeping his mouth shut. Maybe it was his mistake, after all, to think his mother could ever be interested in him. The problem was, he kept changing his mind about it. The way she was about to let go in his arms last night told him exactly that: for more perverse than it could be, his mother felt something more than just a motherly love. But this morning, she was acting all cold and distant. He pondered on that as he collected the last items of clothing, finding her lace red panties from the other day and keeping them to himself.

Why would she act so distant? It was because she feared going too far. And she might be right telling him Jenny was a wound needing healing, but in his heart, he was ready to move on from the moment she laugh at him, spraying cum all over his jeans.

He took the pair of undies into his room, closed the door behind him, and laid the panties on his pillow. The thought of his mother having tempting feelings for him was more twisted than he realized, but exactly what he wanted to think about right now. She was his to protect and take care of. Wasn't it why he saved her from his father's mediocrity? He laid his sleeping shorts on his bed and gently loomed over.

His cock made contact with the fabric of the shorts, and as soon as his face hit the panties-layered-pillow he gasped. Precum flowed like a waterfall, the thick nectar announcing his eminent downfall. "Fuck. Hold it together, Adam." But it was no good. As soon as he made a thrust, with his face fully buried in his mother's temptation, his load came hard and fast, his mouth open, eating those panties up, begging for the cunt that once he exited from.

His mother's voice from the other side of the door, "are you ok, honey?" making him shout he would be out in a second. She understood it quite well, but wasn't aware of the fact he was masturbating to her panties and her scent. He should have returned those panties to the laundry basked, but he kept them hidden in his pillowcase.

They sat having breakfast together. To Adam, his mother never looked more interesting, even in her day-to-day clothes, a fine gold necklace laying over her sweet neck that he kissed the night before, justified by the wine. The pancakes tasted better today than all days.

"Are you ok? I heard some sort of shouting in your room," she asked, licking her fingers from the maple syrup. Adam went red in the face, somehow not expecting his mother playing a game like this, but Marge was also not feeling herself. The hormones in the air were making her taking risks she shouldn't, as if she didn't notice how her son was now going commando, taking advantage of his large cock dangling between his legs, knowing so very well his mother's eye were drawn to it.

"Uh, yes," he said, stuffing his mouth with a whole pancake. She let him finish, before asking if he was having any luck with trying the squeeze-and-stop training, causing him to almost spit. "I thought you were too embarrassed to ask," he remarked.

"Well, I am, but I got worried about it yesterday. If you want to talk about it, we can."

He touched his cock under the table, thinking if it was a good idea to speak about this at all. The way her panties made him shoot a load so quick meant two things: that he didn't overcome his problem, and that he only added another issue to his life, which was his own mother as a jerking device.

"Have you tried the other method?"

He took one deep breath before replying. "Yes, and it's not working, mom."

"But do you hold the -"

"Yes, I do. It's just not working."

She put on a thinking look. "Well, I'm out of ideas then. Dr. Costas might help."

"You're putting too much faith on him, but you helped dad overcoming it."

"Yes, and I told you why. You need the right partner."

"But that's what I'm afraid of at the moment. What if they're just like Jenny?"

"If you don't try, you'll never know. I'm sure you have nothing to be ashamed about yourself, son. Be as confident in bed as you are in the field." She twirled her hair around her finger. "Yes, that's it. Think of it as a game, and the end goal is not to come, and -"

"Mom! I'm not thinking about a woman as if she's a football. I want all the emotions that come with it, not just the sex part, you know?"

"Meaning?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I want intimacy. I want to feel wanted. And I want all of those things while I'm inside you, I mean, while I'm inside a woman, you know?" He was quick in correcting his lapse, but she heard him loud and clear.

Instead of replying, she drank her coffee. Her mind was fixated on her son, and no matter what she tried, her thoughts would return to him in a blink of an eye. Anything reminded her of him.

"I think that's very valid. And you will build up that trust with a woman, I'm certain of it. You are such a kind soul. The more you think about it, the worst, so why don't we try to identify things that will steer your mind away from that?"

"That's a deal. I'm all ears."

"Oh crap, what is Natasha trying to do to me?" she said, checking her phone. "She wants us to spend the afternoon at her place, swimming pool and all. But the weather is shit."

A cold sweat ran down Adam's body. "It says it's going to get better after lunch." He thought of his mother in a bikini, and shrugged. "Tony is telling me the exact same thing."

"I thought you two had plans?"

"We'll see. I won't intrude in your time with Natasha."

"It's because she's still in bed! I knew I should have suspected the market thing was too good. Anyway, I'll go by myself to that market. Text me if you want anything."

In the end, Tony and Adam went somewhere else during the afternoon, while Marge spent some quality time with her best friend, alone in their swimming pool. Marge wanted hard to bring the topic to her, but didn't know how. Instead, she complimented Tony.

"He's doing a great season, isn't he?"

"He is. I'm so proud of him. And, as usual, Adam is such a good influence."

She hummed, while soaking up her feet, shadowing her eyes from the shining sun with her palm. "They just grow up so fast."

"I know," Natasha concurred, sipping from her margarita. "He's such a man now. Hairy legs, chiseled chest, oh, such an adonis those two."

"You think?"

"Oh my god, Marge! They could be in the cover of a magazine and we'd drool just like we did in the past, multiple times. I know he's my son, but god I ain't blind. And you aren't as well. Such a damn temptation to live with those muscle gods under our roof."

"Oh my, never thought of that, really." Marge went beetroot red.

"And I know a lie when I hear one. We're still young. I have desires that never end, but I understand not to act on them. But it gets complicated when I'm doing laundry and find all those cum soaked rags lying around. They don't even try to hide it anymore. Just a bunch of walking hormones, hung, dumb and full of cum, is it not what they say?"

"Natasha? What did you put in your margarita?"

"Don't be prude to me. You never were. Yesterday when I caught your Adam staring at me, he made me all wet. I'm only telling you this because I can trust you. And I understand it's a lot to take in. But I saw my Tony doing the same to you, and it's almost like that movie. Oh, gosh, how many times did I come thinking about that?"

In a way, Marge was happy that Tony and Adam went elsewhere in the afternoon. In a way, she was also happy that she wasn't the only woman in the world to feel that way. There were, in fact, two women in the world feeling like that.

She took a sip from her drink, thinking if yesterday's wine and today's drinks weren't a bit too much. "Tony is a beautiful man. But I'm just too old."

"You are? Your cunt says otherwise, girl."

"I swear to god, you put something into that drink. Where is the poised house wife?"

"Fuck that bitch with a ten-inch dick." She looked at her, and burst into laughter. "Ah, it's just, you know how weddings are, and mine is hanging by a thread. I need a cock, but don't have it. We need to go out, celebrate, get a few nice young men to take us home."

"What if you get pregnant?"

"Is that really what you're thinking? There are condoms for that. And who the fuck cares?"

Since the day they met, Natasha was always like a note out of pitch. What her ex-husband was quick to despise, Marge was eager to wrap her hands around, thus strengthening their friendship and securing years of healthy comrades. This wasn't the first time they were talking about sex, but was indeed the first time their boys were added to the mix.

"You know I only had... him. It's complicated to think about sex with other men. Somehow, I can't help but feel I'm betraying him."

"That priestly motherfucker? I'd put a strap-on and pray the sin away from his body, I tell you that."

"Jesus, woman. No more drinks for you."

And Natasha grabbed her phone, snapping a picture of Marge. After a few takes, Natasha had posted them on social media, the perfect selfie, showing only what they wanted to show.

While their mothers talked about their sons, so did the sons commented on them. The notification of his mother's post made Tony stopped skating. "Will you look at that?" he muttered, unconsciously grabbing his junk over his shorts.

"What's up?" Adam asked, and Tony showed him the pic. "Damn, we should have gone to the pool."

"You were the one chickening out," Tony accused him. It was not only Natasha that was looking good. His mother looked hot. Fucking hot. He took his hand to his cock, squeezing it.

"Shit dude. Our mothers are fucking hot."

And they burst into laughter. The idea was a stupid one, but it took roots, and they kept talking about that during the afternoon, looking at other mothers and comparing them to their own.

"I saw you staring at my mother the other day, dude," Tony told him.

"You did the fucking same."

Tony had an evil grin on his face. "Don't you think how good it will feel? Not your mom, but an older and experienced woman? Bet it's much better than these skinny chicks."

And Adam just smiled, not replying.

"Dude, now that I think about it... I heard that you and Jenny broke up?"

Adam grunted. "Yup, seems like it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's been two days, and there was the game and whatnot. Too many things going on right now, bro."

"It sucks."

"It does."

"Were you cheating on her?"

And Adam laughed. "I fucking wish, bro. I fucking wish. No, nothing like that. We just, well, just broke up."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Tony, take a fucking hint, yeah mate?" And with this, Adam took his skater and moved on, sliding through the empty street of linear houses.

They stopped on a curb by a cafe and sat down. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nah, mate, you'll just fucking laugh."

"I swear I won't, bro."

"Not happening."

"Is it because you have a small cock?"

And, with this, Adam looked at him, seriously. "Hey, relax, bro. You're super tense. You can trust me."

"I know I can trust you, but it's just so delicate, bro. I don't feel I can confide something like this in anyone."

Tony scratched his chest, lifting his shirt, and showing the same set of abs that Adam also had. A couple of women and men passing through the street kept their eyes glued to the young males.

"Fine, you don't have to tell me. But we gotta go celebrate you being single again. Hands down Sophie will want to bone you."

"What? How do you know about Sophie?"

"Bro, you're the only one she talks about. I heard she'll give you a happy ending, no questions asked. Besides, she knows you got a big cock."

"Stop talking about my dick, bro. I... I can't have anything with Sophie. She'll just laugh at me." And he sunk on his clothes, hands in his pockets, eyes looking far away from them. Tony looked at his best friend with worry, not knowing how to go from there. They talked about sex all the time, but they never talked about relationships. "Hey bro, I don't think Sophie would laugh at you."

"How come?"

"Look at you, brother. Even the big teams came around to see your games. You're destined to be a big shot. Everyone wishes they could look like you." He leaned forward, whispering, "damn, even I wouldn't think twice if you wanted to bang me."

With this, Adam went straight red in his face, a sort of awkwardness he wasn't used to. "What the fuck you saying? Someone can listen."

"I mean it, bro. It's how important you are to me." But then, his smile betrayed him, and what Adam thought to be an honest remark was only a prank.

"I don't think people want to be me. I... I wish I could be like everyone else."

Their mothers posted another pic, and they both look at it for longer than they should, cocks swelling inside their pants. "Damn, your mother looks so fine, bro," Tony finally said, "respectfully, I mean."

"I got your respectfully alright, same thing here, bro. Your mother looks like she can take a good pounding," Adam said, not thinking. "Respectfully," he added, looking at Tony's open mouth.

"Is this wrong? Is this wrong?" When Adam looked back at him with a puzzled face, he added, "this, talking about fucking your mother, respectfully? It's frowned upon, for sure. At least, the age difference alone."

"Age is just a fucking number, isn't it? As long as everyone is an adult, who cares if I'm 20 and she's 45? That's so stupid."

"Yeah, it is. But society has rules for a reason, no?"

"Fuck society. And fuck Jenny, and Sophie bro."

And Tony's face went pale as a sheet. He was looking at his phone, and put it away immediately. "What's that?" Adam asked.

"Nothing, bro."

"You're a terrible liar. You're pale man, is that a more intimate photo of our moms?" And Adam checked his phone, and in another social media post, Jenny, his ex, had posted something rather intimate. Something that was still true, but it was a rough blow to his image.

"Shit."

"I'm sure it's a lie. Here, I'll red flag that shit."

Adam suddenly stood up and walked away. He wanted to run away, to forget about the world. Tony caught him, grabbing his shoulder, "bro, just wait, man."

"Wait for what? Now you know, she did us a favor." Tears were threatening his eyes, but they were tears of rage. Hate. Pure, distilled hate.

"Bro, that's called trying to destabilize you. She's dating your nemesis, and they want to get to you."