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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.
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Chapter 6 - Twenty-Six Seconds
Adam woke up to an empty bed and an empty house. And a hard cock.
The polka skirt was lying on the floor, and his first instinct was to ring his mother, while using the skirt to soak up his first morning load. She didn't pick up, but the presence was still there with him. Her large breasts, the way she rubbed on his cock to make herself cum, all of that couldn't be forgotten.
He made her dinner, intending to surprise her that night, but what he got was a sullen face, and barely any intention to interact.
"Mom, what's wrong?" he asked her, watching as she sat down on the couch, exhausted.
"What do you think? Everything is wrong, Adam," she said, closing her eyes and opening up her jacket. "Got a terrible day at work, and can't stop thinking it was because of what we've done yesterday."
He sat next to her, looking for reassurance. "We did nothing wrong, don't say that." Adam took her hand in his, looking straight into her eyes. "I love you, mom."
A beginning of a smile rose on her lips. "Silly boy, I love you too, but let's promise each other our love stays as innocent as it should."
"Promise," he said, smiling back at her.
She inhaled deeply. "What's this smell? Have you been cooking?"
He nodded. In a strange fluidity, Adam went to the kitchen, and brought her a glass of red, full, and helped her out of the jacket. Then, positioning at her feet, he removed her high heels with delicacy. "Just relax. I want you to have something good out of this day."
And she let his hands massage her tired feet, welcoming his strong fingers. A fire spread all the way up her legs, and she let her eyes remain close, as she pictured him again, in the night's darkness, hard cock delivering her a heart shattering orgasm. There was nothing of innocent in that massage, at least, for her, because when Marge opened up her eyes again, her son was the purest form of them all.
Marge would pray at night for her sins, but little could that do to the corruption of her soul. She encouraged Adam to seek other girls, like Sophie, but he was keeping to himself. Sophie decided he was too much of an effort, and now was dating someone else, and, in Adam's words, someone who could hold his loads for more than one minute.
And the day of the last match came, and the four of them celebrated the victory: Natasha and Tony included. They went out for a delightful meal, and while the mothers drank red, the sons drank soda. The emotions were all there, with Tony looking languidly to Marge, and Adam did the same to Natasha, although his leg was rubbing against his mother's.
Marge noticed this, but said nothing. As they walked out of the restaurant, Tony took Marge under his arm, and for a second, Adam went blind.
"What are you doing?" he seemed to ask with his closed fists, but the sudden arm around his waist, from Natasha, confused him.
"You grew up to be such a healthy man," Natasha said, while walking side by side with Adam, "and not an ounce of fat."
He let a laugh come out, "if you squeeze it hard, I'm sure you get some."
"Is it?" she said, winking back at Marge, "Tony has more to grab."
Tony protested back, and the camaraderie continued, with Natasha keeping her hands around Adam's strong abs, her hands moving down.
"Go on Natasha, don't be afraid. There's plenty to grab." He said this looking at Tony, and detecting the same level of jealously in his eyes. They stood facing the ocean, and the chilly breeze that came with the sound of the crashing waves, each man with a woman by their side, comparing, competing. What he failed to see was the jealousy in his mother's eyes.
"You good?" Tony asked him, and Adam nodded. And then, they switched sides, their bulges denoting something growing, but Adam was relieved when he had his arms around his mother.
"Just relieved this season is over, you know?"
Both men stared into the emptiness of the ocean waves sinking into the darkness ahead, the boats on the horizon flashing their lights, his mother's hair caressing his soul. He imagined what if this could be the future? No shame, no regrets, just a mother and his son, a different love? But, at the same time, he could imagine her saying exactly the opposite of that.
Adam had tried everything. He knew he shouldn't, but how could he avoid it? The massages, such a simple way to get sex to happen. All the pornos he saw made it sound so easy. But his mother never budged, never tempted by the long bulge in his sweatpants. He didn't use underwear anymore to corrupt her to his side, to make her see his feelings for her.
As they arrived home that night, he took the coat off her shoulders, in a delicate procedure, hanging it, and turning back to her, observing her curves. She sat down on the couch, looking at him as a proud mother would. Adam smiled back at her, and put the music on, a soft jazz she could dance too if she wanted to, and took off his jacket, and sweatshirt, leaving only a yellow t-shirt glued to his abs, showing off his biceps.
He wanted to remove his trousers as well, but knew his mother would run away if he did, but the thin jeans left nothing to the imagination. He knew there was a visible print of the contours of his cock because she looked straight at it, before he knelt to her feet, helping her get rid of her shoes, and wrapping her tired feet into his healing hands.
"What's in your head, mother?" he asked, noticing her stockings, black and see through, his cock reacting already, like a fire starting after a lightning.
"Nothing, honey, just tired. You don't have to do this every time," she said.
He nodded, caressing her calves, and kissing her knee. "I know, but I want to give you something back."
Marge let a sigh go, and shivered, with his lips on her knee. He never done this before, and his hands seem to grasp her flesh with more intensity.
"How are things with Sophie?" she asked, as his hands traveled all the way north, landing on her thighs. His sweet eyes looked at her, with a different fire, the same fire she met the other night in her bedroom, where both of them got lost in desire.
"Mom, you know very well there's no Sophie. There's no one out there for me."
"Hush now, honey," she replied immediately. "You know that's not true." Marge brushed her hand over his face, while his fingers stayed for too long on her legs, her panties reflecting the need for him, although her brain could not cope with the thought.
"I know I have you, mother, but no one else. Not with this problem."
As promised, Marge took some time off work, and they headed for hills, for a nice little mountain retreat they owned. A two bedroom wooden house, filled with some modern luxury, that shared the shores of a lake with some other traditional houses that popped like mushrooms on the landscape. The weather was changing, but the forecast was still for some sunny days with warm temperatures, reason enough to bring her bathing suit.
She opened the windows as Adam carried the bags inside, and she noticed he placed his things in the same room as hers. The reasoning was Natasha and Tony would arrive only the next day.
"But Adam, I won't be sleeping with you."
