Wednesday afternoon, the dead heart of the week and I was stretched out on top of the bed with one foot propped up on a couple of pillows, doctor's orders. A few days before I'd twisted my ankle and it had swollen up. So there I was, propped up at both ends -- head and foot I mean.
I must admit that most of the swelling had gone down and all that remained was a bit of blue-black bruising. But I was enjoying being off work and the attention I'd been getting from my son Robert, so I was trying to stretch it out. Robert was in and out of the place between whatever it is he does at university and had been keeping the place tidy and would you believe, even doing some cooking.
So there I was, snug in my green track suit, no constricting underwear and breasts floating comfortably free. I hate bras but with me they are essential at times; I mean, when you're a 36DD you have to wear them sometimes otherwise they bounce all over the place.
Rob had fixed up a portable television for me and I was looking at an early afternoon slightly sexy sit-com. The guy had just got her naked to the waist and was doing something with her breasts and it got me mildly turned on. I thought a little fingering was in order and so I slipped my hand inside the waistband of my track suit and pulled down the zip of my top and had just started to play with my clitoris and fumble a breast when Robert stuck his head round the door. The finger came out and the zip came up rather quickly.
"Fancy a cup of tea mum?"
"Oh...er...yes," the fingering would have to wait.
I turned off the TV with the remote and picked up the book I'd been reading earlier. The story was set in the eighteenth century and the guy had just kissed the girl's hand. I think the hand kissing was equivalent of having sex with a guy today. Of course contraception wasn't around in those days.
Robert came in with a cup of tea and put it on the bedside table. I lay there looking at him and it occurred to me that time really does go by fast. It was as if one minute I'd been feeding him at the breast and the next he's six feet tall and feeding me. Actually he had made lunch for me, soup. When I say "made," it really came out of can, but the thought had been there.
Lying there looking up at him I thought that if I was twenty years younger and he wasn't my son I could really fancy him.
"Are you having a cup of tea?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Then why don't you bring it in here and keep me company for a while, it gets pretty boring laying here on my own?"
"Sure," he said, and went to get his tea.
When he came back he asked, "How's it feeling mum?"
"Not so bad," I replied, "I might be able to stand on it tomorrow." I patted the bed beside me and said, "Come and lie down with me and tell me what you've been doing."
He got onto the bed and there we were, side by side, half sitting half lying with pillows behind us, our shoulders touching. I thought it felt really sexy but I suppose I was still a bit turned on from the sit-com and the hand kissing.
Robert was saying something about having done the washing and hung it out and what he might cook for the evening meal.
"You're a good boy I said, patting him on the cheek, "and you deserve a reward."
I wasn't sure if he would see it as a reward but at the moment I thought it was all I had, and so I kissed him. I suppose it was a reward because he put his arm round my shoulders and held on to the kiss for several moments. When the kiss ended his arm stayed round my shoulders and I thought to myself, "I could get to like this a lot," and so I kissed him again, and this time it was me who hung on.
When we broke off we were both breathing rather heavily and I had a ticking sensation in my clitoris and my nipples had started to swell.
"You know," I said, "it was on this very bed that I used to feed you when you were a baby."
"At the breast?"
"Of course; you were a greedy little devil."
"Was I? A pity I can't remember it."
"Yes, just a few moments ago I was thinking how time flies and we forget things, but I don't think I'll ever forget breast feeding you; there's something very seductive about breast feeding."
"For the baby or the woman?"
"Well certainly for the woman, or it was for me, but I don't know about the baby. It's strange isn't it; men are so attracted to a woman's breasts?"
"Yes," he said thoughtfully, "I suppose it is, but what about the woman, how does she feel about men being attracted to her breasts?"
I laughed and said, "Why do you think women show so much of their breasts, or why do they have then pumped up with plastic stuff, breast reconstructions and things like that?"
"Mmm, I wonder if it's the breast feeding that makes a man want to do things with a woman's breasts, I mean...when... they...er..."
"Make love?"
"Yes."
Somehow my head had come to rest on his shoulder and I wondered what it would be like if he touched my breasts. The thought ran on and I wondered what it would be like if I touched his penis. I glanced down and was fascinated to see a hard lump in his groin. I was still experiencing some of the effects of the sit-com and the hand kissing, and the sight of an erect penis was enhancing that experience.
