This is a long overdue continuation of a taboo romance. You may want to read Beautiful Memory Chapters I and II for context. A big thank you to Mary H, a Literotica volunteer editor who lent her talents to make the story more enjoyable for you. Thank you for voting and your comments on my previous submissions, it has kept me writing more.
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Her patience always amazed me.
My mind swam through all that had transpired as I sat there slowly catching up with the present.
Unhurriedly, she drank her coffee.
The aroma of her coffee was intoxicating, Java was her blend. My eyes slowly focused back on her.
Her amused smile made me blush.
"Glad to have you back. I thought I might have lost you for good there," she teased.
"That was incredible mom," I blurted, then looked down at the table shyly. I felt her soft hand on my chin gently lifting my face up until my eyes met hers.
Her thumb gently caressed my lips, and then she throatily responded, "It was wonderful Tommy. Even more so than I had imagined."
I gasped in response. Had my mother just admitted to having fantasized about kissing my lips? What else, I wondered had she fantasized about.
"Well, you'll just have to find out Tommy," she chuckled.
How did she do that? It was always so embarrassing to be an open book to her.
"Darling," she looked dead serious again, "Would you be okay with us going slow? I don't want to rush you into anything you can't handle. I am your mother and am responsible for your well-being. I will not harm you in any way. I don't want anything to happen to my handsome young man. We can end this at any time and go back to being a mother and son. This is going to be very tricky. I will not abuse my authority over you as your mother to ever have you do or feel something you don't want. Understood? You want to go back. We will and it will be forgotten, buried, like it never happened. I am your mother first and foremost. Anything else that happens between us is secondary. It's very important that you never do anything because you feel like I might want it, if it makes you feel anything but happy. We will be happy together but I will never, ever, be happy at your expense. Do you understand Sweetheart?"
I nodded slowly.
She gave me a long hard look, evaluating, measuring. She let the silence hang in the air for a long time. I could see her eyes reading me, penetrating me.
One would think that being so transparent would make a person feel vulnerable but with her it only made me feel comforted, secure. I knew she meant every word she said. I knew that with my mother I would never be in a situation that could make me unhappy. She would go to the ends of the world to ensure my happiness even at the cost of her own. I felt great comfort, freedom and yet responsibility in that. How does one re-pay that kind of devotion? I loved her with all my heart and soul. But I don't think I could love her as completely as she loved me. Yet I didn't know how I could possibly love her more than I did.
She looked back over at me as she took a long slow sip. She smiled a slow, ever widening smile.
"You do understand. You have matured so well, Darling. I am so proud of you. Now, come, get to know me as a woman. But slowly. I know those teenage hormones are hard to contain but you have developed wonderful discipline."
She reached out her hand as I slipped mine into it. She rose slowly, all grace, taking me with her.
We walked across the breakfast area to the sliding doors onto the deck. The sunlight bathed our skin, warm, gentle. We slowly descended the stairs as a cool breeze contrasted the warm sun. The smell of fresh dew on grass filled the air. Birds sang sweetly.
My mother's hand was the most exotic thing in the world. It filled me with such wonder, with such comfort, with such excitement. My heart fluttered, untethered to my body, floating up in pure joy. Up into the soft white clouds that caressed the perfect blue sky.
We were both barefoot as we walked through the moist grass, savoring the sensation. We walked silently on the grassy path through the woods until we came to a stream.
