Sandy was more than a little upset with herself as the early morning light brightened the hall. Her son had been due to arrive home from school late last night, and though she really wanted to be awake when he arrived, sleep had gotten the better of her. She thought about going to his room, to check on him, but then thought the better of that idea and retreating to her room, found her bathrobe and slowly made her way to the kitchen.
As she poured her first cup of eye-opener she thought about the past three lonely months and wondered how much, if any, she had crossed his mind. It had been a big adjustment for both of them when he had decided to enroll at State University, and though it was difficult for her, Sandy knew that it was the right thing for him if he was truly to pursue his life's dreams. But for her, it meant loneliness, and anguish, that her one and only was no longer there for her to take care of, to pamper, to fill her days with love and joy.
She sighed as she remembered their weekly telephone calls that she had made him promise to make, and he had faithfully done. Just the sound of his voice made her day, and as they got comfortable chatting, their conversations sometimes touched on things that, well, quite frankly sort of turned Sandy on. In addition to school, work, and his special projects, Sandy was a bit enamored by his personal life, specifically, his seemingly numerous girlfriends. Very rarely it seemed that he had the same one for longer than two weeks.
Being the overprotective Mom, Sandy queried him about who, and why, he seemed to go through them like some people do changes of shirts. He would just laugh and say, "None of them measure up to you Mom."
Somewhat taken aback by his revelation Sandy remembered eking out, "In what way?"
"In every way," he had replied immediately. "Smarts, looks, consideration of others... and well," here he had paused momentarily, "Being down right... sexy."
Not knowing how to answer that, Sandy simply chuckled and demurely said, "Well thanks... thanks a lot. It does your poor old mother good to hear something like that."
She was glad he wasn't there when he said that as even in denial, Sandy found herself blushing at such a compliment. When the conversation hinted at the sexual side of his relationships, though she felt a bit out of water, Sandy felt some unusual pulls and arousal as he would try and laugh off her inquiries, and conversation would, at least initially, become a bit stilted.
Then, a little over a month ago, he replied to her questioning with a remark that Sandy had mulled over, time again, each and every day since. "You know, Mom," he had said matter-of-factly, "What it boils down to, is that none of these girls could make love like a woman like you."
Sandy had been at a loss for words when he said that, and she found herself wondering where such a thought like that had come from. What did he know about her 'love' life, and what did he base such a remark like that on? She had given herself a bit of a sarcastic laugh as in reality her 'love' life was almost less than zero. If it weren't for that little silver bullet she kept in her bedside drawer, it would be zero.
She took pride in keeping herself in shape, not for anyone special, just as her own personal sense of what was right. As she thought about a response, he continued to surprise her. "Mom," he softly said, "I... ummm... have... a confession to make."
"A confession?"
"Yes. You know those light blue bikini panties, the ones with the matching lacey bra?"
Sandy took careful time in buying her lingerie, and again though it wasn't for anyone special, she just liked having things look right. "Yes?"
"I... uhhh... well, I took them... my last morning before leaving for school. They were on the bathroom floor after you had showered... and, well, I took them."
Hearing that, Sandy immediately felt some deeper tingling... some deep, hidden urges, fighting to make their way to the fore. She had simply thought she had misplaced them, and had gone out to buy another pair when she couldn't find it. Never had it crossed her mind that, something like this had happened. "Whatever for?" she remembered asking rather meekly.
"To have something... something intimate of yours... to have with me... to feel you... close to me. They were a bit... soiled... and I loved having your scent... and... taste."
Sandy was reeling at his words... and she felt the rapid moistness dampening her panties. "I... I... don't know what to say?"
"And Mom," his voice got very low... hushed... as he continued, "I use them... "
"Use them?" Sandy's breath was coming in rapid, shallow gasps.
"Yes," he replied so soft that Sandy pressed the phone hard against her ear so as not to miss anything he had to say. "All the time... especially... late at night... when I'm lying here in my lonely bed, fantasizing... about... you... having you... so soft against my... rod... "
Unconsciously Sandy had let her hand fall between her legs, and she was rubbing herself with an intense vigor as she took in his words. "Oh Tommy," she gasped, "I... I... don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything Mom," he whispered, "Just... just think about what I just... shared with you. Please."
And Sandy heard the click of the cell and knew the conversation, for the moment, was over. She recalled the conversation, several times, and felt not only the deep, primal urgings, but found herself, wondering... thinking about her son in ways that she felt incredibly conflicted about. But it didn't stop her from using her silver bullet that night, several times, and each time she found her thoughts and fantasies filled with images of her son. And it was very good.
Sandy went to the gym three times a week with her best friend Jenny. On Monday, having had two nights and a day to think about her conversation, Sandy felt like she needed to share, at least some of it with Jenny to get some perspective, and perhaps advice. Taking their customary energy drink after working out, Sandy shared some of the night's conversation. Sandy was somewhat surprised by the rather beaming look on Jenny's face when she concluded by saying, "So, I'm kind of in a quandary as to how to respond, or what exactly to say when he calls again this week."
"It's natural," Jenny replied, "Natural that is for a son to have, and feel, sexual urgings toward his Mom. The real question revolves around you... what you feel, and think... about Tommy." Here she paused to lock her eyes with Sandy's and continued, "Do you want him... in that way... are your feelings for him... towards him... more than just a Mother's love?"
Sandy felt her cheeks burning as she hadn't shared her rendezvous with the silver bullet and her fantasies with Jenny. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want," Jenny said, "But if I'm as good at reading people's thoughts as I think I am, I already know your answer."
Was it really that evident? Was her want and desire to have her son... to let him have her, so, plain and evident as Jenny seemed to make it? As they got up to make their way to the shower Jenny leaned over and quietly said, "If you should decide the answer is no, call me up when Tommy gets home and let me know. He can fill my garden... and any other hole he wants to fill whenever he wants." Jenny winked at Sandy and hooking her arm dragged her off towards the locker room.
Sandy went to bed that night with varied thoughts swirling in her mind. The fact that her best friend wanted her son was a stunning revelation in itself, but her remarks, about 'more than just a Mother's love' reverberated in her soul. She had stripped naked, and reached for her silver bullet. As she brought herself to several orgasms she wondered what it would be like... him, naked, lying with her... the feel of his manhood penetrating deep inside her... the taste of him in her mouth, the thought that he might want to... tantalize her garden with his tongue.
Her orgasmic forays brought sleep quickly but she was jarred awake by the ringing of her phone. She glanced at the clock, 1 a.m., who could be calling at this hour? "Hello?"
