Behind Closed Blinds Ch 08

1

Somebody calling my name. Too far away. Obscured by the confusion of murky dreams. Nothing seems as it really is from beneath the membrane of sleep, just as the light and the colour and the sounds of the surface world are not the same to that beneath the sea.

I don't even recall what I was dreaming. For a time even the sound of my own name made no sense. I was hearing another language altogether, or maybe I was trying to block it out. Maybe I had been an eel, no different to that which I had witnessed muddying the waters of the pier that one recent day. Just one senseless part of a greater writing mass, seeking meaning, or maybe happy for a complete lack of.

Gradually 'Steven,' began to mean something as the dream changed shape, colour, tone, sound, touch. She began to sound familiar, her hand pulling me out of the depths, snatching me from this silly troubling feeling that I did not belong where I was.

'Steven,' she now hushed, her hand gently rubbing my bare shoulder. I inhaled my first breath in what felt like a lifetime, opened my eyes to the stinging wetness of saltwater. Sweat, not tears. Covering me from head to toe. Oily, hot, suffocating in its own strange way.

The room was dark but as I rubbed the blurriness and the wetness from my eyes, I could see the faintest shade of blue touching the bedroom blinds.

'Mum?'

'You were having a bad dream, nearly shouting.'

'I'm sorry,' I murmured.

'It's not your fault,' mum assured. 'I'd have let it run itself out but you stopped breathing.'

'Ughhh...' I groaned. 'I've soaked the bed. What time is it?'

'Half five,' she groaned also. 'I've got to be up in two hours.'

'I'll get up and shower,' I said, sitting up at the edge of the bed. 'I'll make sure you don't sleep in.'

'Are you sure you're okay?' mum asked sleepily. 'Poor baby...'

'I can catch a nap later,' I assured her as I stood up unsteadily before shuffling out of the room.

2

Fresh from the shower I dressed down in a vest and loose drawstring shorts for the morning. I had my writer's group to attend at noon. Before then I wanted to air out and relax, and not much else in particular. Over coffee I checked my emails in the dining room study. 7AM came quickly, and with thoughts of waking my mother for work, other thoughts...

Barefooted I climbed the stairs, the warm sunlight of a more promising morning coming from the bathroom window, painting the landing in a vista of golden beams pushing back the shadows of night, their residue clinging on in jagged black streaks amid the texturing of the white artex walls.

It was my turn to gently shake her awake now. In the fading dark of the bedroom, her golden hair a mess of troubled rest, her eyes still behind heavy lids, her open mouth pouting, I heard no sound, no breathing, and stood deathly still as I made out the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

Helpless to stop myself, to do anything else, I bent down, brushed the hair from her brow, and kissed her forehead, causing her to stir. Again Sara lay still, and again I kissed her, this time over one shut eye. Again she stirred, took a deeper breath, awakening.

'Seven o'clock,' I whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. Mum's eyes tightened shut, crinkling the bridge of her nose, and mischievously I kissed the tip of her nose again. Mum rolled from her side and onto her back, her unfettered breasts rolling to join the rest of her at their own pace, but beneath the covers I saw only a trace of their outline.

I was tempted to more rudely awaken her. Instead I sat at the bedside facing her and leaned into her, this time placing a kiss on her cheek, near her mouth.

'Mmmm,' she hummed, still somewhere between dream and reality.

'Coffee's in the pot,' I breathed into her ear. A tiny shudder passed through her, ended somewhere down below.

'Can't I just stay in bed today?' she pleaded sleepily, from between lips that barely moved.

'If I was your boss I'd let you stay in bed all day,' I chuckled.

'But?'

'But then so would I and the business would go under and we'd end up squatting in the garden shed.'

Sara's eyes opened, the shade of the bedroom enough that she wouldn't strain her eyes to look at me. 'Feeling better?'

'Oh I'll make up for it,' I said, clasping both bare shoulders as I bent down to kiss her on the lips.

'What time is it?'

'I already told you, it's seven,' I laughed.

'Hmm, I must have been dreaming,' she replied, eyes closed again as my lips returned to play with hers.

'I'd better get up and shower now or I'll be all over the place today,' mum said, excusing herself. I had grown aroused down there. Sneakily I lodged myself into a more comfortable and less visible position, and stood up to give mum her space.

'Be back with you in fifteen,' she excused, freeing the nipple and walking butt-naked to the bathroom.

3

It was now 7:25AM, Sara was sat drying her hair in the vanity mirror. I came back from downstairs after letting her shower, and stood watching in the doorway. Business clothes hung on the wardrobe door, she wasn't even wearing knickers yet.

I stood enjoying the view of her beautiful heart-shaped backside and the hourglass figure it created in tandem with her broad but nicely toned upper back.

'Come and sit behind me,' she said invitingly, shaking her bum at me atop her seat. It was a handcrafted wooden bench, backless, plenty spacious so that she could sit between my legs without falling off.

Quietly from there I could enjoy the touch of her nakedness as she expertly gave herself the once over with her eyebrow pencils. Intently I watched, enjoying the fleeting moments where her eyes unfixated from her reflection and flirted with mine. Meanwhile, hopelessly, my hands roamed from her shoulders to her sides, and from there to her thighs.

Playfully she nudged back into me with her rump, and found my loins growing with interest at the close proximity.

Mum stopped doing all else that she was doing then, and a knowing smirk tugged the corners of her pouting lips. 'What time is it now?'

'Seven-thirty...'

'Half an hour to decide what lipstick,' she said to herself, but then after a double-take, I realised that had not been meant just for herself. I smiled, rested my cheek next to hers.

'Hungry?' I asked, our eyes locked in the mirror reflection.

'Mm-hmm,' she hummed deeply, slowly, hinting, then leaned back into me, pushing her breasts out as she arched her back.

With her hands, she took mine off her thighs and brought them upwards until they enveloped her soft, squishy, undeniable treasures, and she gasped into my mouth before our lips and tongues met and began to touch affectionately and then to dance.

I don't know how she did it without knocking the dressing table off its feet but one moment she was gyrating against my inner thighs, rubbing up against my growing need, and the next my shorts were down, and she was feeding me to her feverish sex, trying her very best to cause my abdomen a very intimate carpet burn.

Possessed by the growing intensity of both of our needs, which had been put to one side for maybe a week, I lifted us both up into the air, legs straining to stand straight, and swivelled us around 180 where I playfully threw my mother onto the bottom corner of the bed's mattress, still sunken all the way inside her.

I pressed her knees back, grabbed her ankles so that I could control the show. Mother gasped, partly because she was finally getting exactly what she wanted, and also because of how lewdly the position left her so wide open, able to see everything as it happened.

I withdrew. She mewled. I injected my full length back into her at a snail's pace, listening to her breath grow ragged. I reversed the process, sliding out slower before quickening my return plunges into her silken vulva.

And her legs began to tremble. It was no matter of positioning, resting on a nerve. I could feel her churn and pulsate around me and the movements all matched up. Her moans now seconded what I already knew, as did the wet sloshing of our coupling sexes.

Mum had both hands full of cover sheet and was scrunching it up in fistfuls as her breathing deepened and sped, giving me a glorious view of her bouncing tits as I thought about how much backed up cum I was about to pump her full of.

Nothing was said, our eyes connected intensely when we weren't otherwise enjoying the sight of the business end of our incestuous lovemaking. And towards the end we remained eye to eye, moaning, gasping, pleading.

'Ahhhh,' we breathed in unison as our orgasms met, and I finally slid back home to let loose inside my mother. Minutes later I found myself on top of her, we were both giggling like naughty teens, and gazing into each other.

'I think we both needed that,' mum said. Silently I agreed, nodding as I caught my breath.

'Five to eight,' I said, and yet I was too reluctant to leave her. Still my hard cock throbbed almost as if I was still ejaculating into her. Slowly I pulled out.

'Knickers,' she demanded, opening and closing the fingers of one hand. I laughed, got up off the bed and threw her the pair she had selected, hanging from the same clip-hanger as her matching beige bra.

Legs in the air, mum hooked the knickers around both ankles, slid them up her tantalising legs, and pulled them tight up around her hips, letting them go with an elastic snap. I giggled still, licking my lips.

'Sitting up at the bedside now, still flushed from her face to her chest, mum gave me a dirty look, and whispered, 'I love having your cum dripping out of me at work all day.'

I stood astride her, mouth agape, ever amazed by the nastiness of the woman I still somehow managed to refer to as "mother." Frozen to the spot, my eyes could not look away from the gusset of her underwear, where a dark wet patch already began to spread.

I could only think now about how she would be squirming all day because of it, squeezing her thighs together, feeling the evidence of our breakfast quickie seeping out of her, slippery wet - in fear of leaving a stain on her skirt, or in the middle of her office chair.

'Now I'll be thinking about that at the writer's group,' I responded, pulling my shorts back up, hiding my still long and swollen baby-maker from her hungry eyes.

'Good!' she said, and held my gaze again momentarily. 'Maybe I'll probe your imagination tonight after dinner,' she suggested with a wicked smile.