Getting Mom Ch 02

Prologue

This is the second installment of a series. It is not a standalone story and I would recommend you read the first portion before reading this one.

Also, this is a story that some may consider somewhat dark, despite the happy ending (no pun intended). I personally find it very erotic and plausible where many other stories breach mother-son incest with the subtlety and finesse of a dog humping your leg. Please do not misunderstand that comment. I do not sit in judgement of any other writer and I implore readers to be patient with stories that aren't to their liking. Literature is easy to criticize and hard to create.

For me, having a believable interlude to sex is very important. In my mind, it is not realistic for a mother to just decide 'What the hell? I'm so horny I think we should fuck on the regular now.' That is probably because of my personal experience but who knows, maybe it really does happen. Although there is no forced sexual interaction, what follows contains a fair deal of coercion and emotional pressure at the beginning. It walks a fine line between consent and non-consent. If this style of story is not to your liking, I would recommend you look elsewhere.

Chapter 1

I woke the next morning feeling satisfied beyond description. It was the most zen state of mind I have ever possessed. I woke slowly and my senses sharpened. I heard the standard suburban ambient noise such as birds chirping, neighbours conversing and the occasional car. I saw a little daylight, though my eyes were closed, telling me the sun was well in the sky and it was a clear and beautiful day. I had found nirvana.

I smelled the fruity shampoo she always uses and I felt her against my body, clinging to me as I lay there on my back. I could feel the hair on my chest move with every inhale and exhale she made. One of her smooth legs was draped across me and she nuzzled the nape of my neck. Her head was resting on my shoulder and my arm was under her. My hand was resting against the small of her back. We had slept on top of the sheets and it seemed to me that we used the warmth from each other's bodies to stay warm throughout the night. I smiled at the memory of the preceding evening. I remembered that clichéd line from Casablanca, 'I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship'. I believed that.

Mom had her body pressed tightly against me and I started lightly scratching her back with my fingertips the way she had for me when I was younger. I remember how good that always felt. It was such a simple yet intimate kind of contact, completely devoid of carnal intent or lust of any kind. It was a kind and sincere gesture of love. I opened my eyes to gaze down at her.

She was perfect. She was fast asleep on my chest and shoulder, breathing gently. She was still bare-naked and I couldn't help but drink in her luscious form with my eyes. Her long, smooth legs that widened gently but confidently in to the broad thighs some women wear so well were enchanting. Her comely form continued in to that perfect heart-shaped ass that was just out of sight over the hill of her hip as she was lying on her side. Above her butt, the sharp indent in her form signalled her waist that she worked so hard to keep to a minimum. Above that was her pair of massive breasts, too large for a hand to contain. One of them was pressed hard in to the flank of my ribs and kind of 'smushed' outwards from the pressure. The other was completely visible and lying on the side of my mid-torso, close to my belly. And then there was her face, it was so beautiful under the cascade of long blonde hair.

We lay like that for a while: me, watching her longingly, and her blissfully content and dreaming peacefully. I continued scratching her back gently. Her skin was so soft it felt like the very edges of my fingertips were being enclosed in a warm, silky gelatin. As I became more and more awake, so too did I become more pragmatic about my situation. My mother and I had had sex the night before, and it seemed probable that her memory regarding the event would be spotty at best. I became kind of nervous about how she would react. I debated getting up and sneaking out of there. Maybe she wouldn't remember us having sex. Maybe whatever she did remember she would dismiss as a dream. People have an astounding propensity to believe what they want to believe.

I seriously considered just leaving the room and going to my own bed. I dismissed the idea after not very long. First of all, we were well entwined and any attempt I made to free myself was likely to wake her anyways. Second of all, I didn't want to sneak off. I had started something that I wanted to continue. I had had sex with my gorgeous deity of a mother, and I knew I would want to again. Hell, I wanted to right then and there. My cock was already hard, but that was nothing new. That happened every time I woke up. Her close proximity did make me hornier though.

She stirred gently against me. She wasn't awake yet, but it wouldn't be long now. I didn't know how she was going to react. I wanted so badly for her to be ok with it. Was that too much to hope for? I wanted Mom to just take it in stride the way she does everything else and realize that it's no big deal. I wanted this kind of evening to be a regular happening and I wanted to wake up this way forever. I didn't know how she was going to react and it worried me.

I did know that she would have a wicked hangover. I contemplated getting a glass of water and putting it on her bedside table for when she woke. Again, I would have woken her. I thought better of it and decided to just lay there, stroking her back.

This went on for about another fifteen minutes before she started to stir again. This time she inhaled sharply and her body moved as she stretched.

"Ugggnnnhhhhh" Mom moaned miserably. She rubbed her hand against her face. She still hadn't opened her eyes and was moving irregularly the way someone who is coaxing their body in to beginning another day is wont to do. The fact that she was undoubtedly hung over and feeling that self-induced kind of sickness that goes with it made me feel sorry for her. She moved her free hand across my torso and then froze suddenly.

I knew that she had just realized something was out of the ordinary. The torso she was resting on. The hand moving back and forth across her back. These things were not normal. She looked up over the top of her hand, which was still on her face, in to my eyes. From what little of her face I could see she looked surprised more than anything. Uh-oh. Not what I was hoping for.

She sprang up suddenly and I could tell that she instantly regretted it. She clutched one hand to her forehead and the other to her belly. It framed her breasts beautifully. I felt bad for her though. The sudden blood loss to her head as she sat up must have exacerbated her headache.

"John?" she asked incredulously "what are you doing here? W- w-... Why are you naked?" She looked a little bit scared. I started to speak but she continued, her voice rising and becoming shriller. "Why am I naked? Why are my clothes on the floor?" Again I was about to speak when she continued, her voice rising yet more, becoming hysterical even "why are you in my bed? What happened last night? Where's V? How'd I get home?" She was losing it a little when she became stark and very stoic all of a sudden.

"John" she said flatly without any expression. "Why is my lower abdomen sore?" The colour drained from her face as she asked this last question she already knew the answer to. She stared at me wide- eyed and stunned, like a deer in headlights. I knew she was silently praying to hear anything but what I was going to say, anything but the truth.

I looked at her feeling sorry for her with a twinge of regret and no words to say. I really had no idea what to say and I could see the tears building in her eyes, threatening to bust the dams of her lower eye-lids. I really had no idea what to say and was at a complete loss for words, which is not an affliction I am used to. I couldn't look at her anymore and I looked down at the bed.

"John, you tell me what happened last night." Her calm and controlled countenance belied the inner turmoil raging within her.

I still had no words to give her. She knew the answer already and I couldn't bring myself to verbally tell her. I was lying on my back still and slowly reached down towards my still hard dick. I placed my hand on it. Her eyes moved down to where I placed my hand and she appeared distraught. She turned away from me and sat up more and then leaned forward toward the foot of the bed, hugging her knees with her head between them.

"Oh my god" she whined in despair. "Oh my god no! Please." She started to sob softly.

I was a little confused and hurt by this. Even if she was drunk last night, she still seemed to enjoy herself immensely. I pleasured her thoroughly. She never once said not to and I just pursued what felt good. For both of us I mean! I know she was drunk but she wasn't that drunk, was she? I gave her a few seconds and then felt compelled to try to comfort her.

"Mom" I said softly, "c'mon, it's not so bad." I leaned forward and started to rub her shoulder. She flinched and then pulled away from my hand.

She stood and turned her tear-streaked face towards me. "Don't John!" she not quite yelled. She suddenly seemed very aware of her own nakedness and clutched at one of the sheets that was on the bed. She picked it up and wrapped herself in it. "Just get out" she said tiredly pointing at the door, her reddened, puffy eyes boring in to my own.

I sat there gaping at her for a moment, then stood up sullenly. I made my way towards the door. As I passed Mom she didn't look at me but just stared at the bed I had just risen from. I walked out the door and heard her close it behind me. I went to my room.

Chapter 2

I lay on my bed staring at my ceiling. I was lost in thought. I felt like I had gained and lost so much in such a short amount of time. I thought of my loving mother the nurturer. We had always gotten on so well. We were all that either of us really had. We were each other's rock. Now I wasn't sure what was going to happen.

Why did Mom react that way? Last night she was enjoying herself so thoroughly. She had mistaken me for dad at one point, but she recognized me before we had actually begun having sex. She knew it was I making love to her, even if she didn't remember it now, as it seemed. In that moment, she acknowledged me and then enjoyed me having sex with her. Her raw and uninhibited self enjoyed last night, even if she didn't remember. Why was her conscious self punishing us now? It was so unfair and confusing.

About twenty minutes after I had left Mom's room I heard her open her door and walk down the hallway. My heart skipped a beat and I sat up on my bed and faced the door. I heard her footsteps grow nearer and then the bathroom door open. She wasn't coming to my room. I simultaneously felt both relieved and disappointed for different reasons. I heard the shower turn on.

I realized that I was working myself up. I would have to face Mom again at some point, but not right now. I thought it would be a good idea to give her some space and process the previous night's events.

"I gotta get out of here" I said aloud to nobody. I looked over at the digital alarm clock on my bed side table. The blocky red digits read '11:13'. Perfect. Steve, Matt, Taylor, Mike, George, Trevor, Leslie (a male friend of mine) or Geoff will be up by now. Anyone would do. I called Steve first. This isn't really a term I use very often as I have a wide variety of good friends, but if I had to pick one, Steve was my best friend.

"Yo man." He answered, recognizing my number on his cel.

"Yo, whatsup?"

"Nothing much, just hanging out at mine."

"Mmmm, cool."

A brief pause on the line, '"yeh, so whatsup with you?"

"Not much, I was just seeing if you wanted to get a pickup game started?"

"Mmmm, yeah that sounds good. What time were you thinking?"

I absent-mindedly glanced at my clock again, it wasn't necessary, it was just habit. I replied "I was thinking twelve?"

"Yeah OK, who else is coming?"

"You're the first call I've made."

"K... Well I'll call around and you do the same?"

"Sounds good. Oh, and also, do you want to do something later tonight? I was thinking we could track down a house party or just get some booze and look for something to do. I dunno what, I just feel like doing something."

He laughed in to the phone. "Yea sure, sounds good. You gonna crash at mine?"

"Yeah that sounds good."

"K, I'll call around, see you at twelve."

"See you." I hung up my cel.

I made four more calls that pretty much followed the same script. By the time I made my fifth call to Matt, another friend named Carl whom Steve had called, had already called Matt. I took that as sufficient evidence that word was getting out. I quickly got dressed in shorts and a tee and packed a change of clothes for the night with a stick of deodorant. I put all my stuff in my bag and did the triple check: keys, wallet and phone. I was good to go. I left my room at 11:20. As I passed the bathroom door, which is at the top of the stairs, I heard the water in the shower was still running.

I walked down the stairs and put on my runners I usually kept on the mat at the front door. I had the door open and stood on the threshold when I stopped and thought to myself. Normally I would leave a note telling mom I was leaving. She could always just call me on my phone to find out where I was, but I thought it would be better to let her avoid making direct contact with me, at least for a little while.

Normal is good right now, I decided. I turned around and started toward the kitchen. I wrote a quick note explaining that I was going out and wouldn't be back that evening. In the note, I told mom that I was going out for the night and that I would have my phone with me. Mom knows that I always keep it on silent to avoid being unintentionally rude to those around me, but I frequently check it. So if she were to call me I probably wouldn't notice, but would be able to call her back.

I left the kitchen and proceeded back towards the front door. As I was passing through the main hallway I heard the shower turn off. You can see the upstairs bathroom door, partially obscured by the banister, from the front door of my house. I stared longingly at that door standing in the downstairs entrance.

I wanted so much to talk to mom, to talk and just make it better. She loved me and I loved her. We could figure this out and I didn't want her mad at me. I wanted so much from her and to reciprocate it in turn. If I could just go and talk to her I could reason with her and make her understand this isn't the end of our mother and son relationship. It's the beginning of something even more intimate and loving.

But no matter how much I wanted to talk, she was in no mood to listen.

Mom must've been almost done towelling off and it would have been awkward and in all honesty kind of creepy for her to walk out only wearing a towel and seen me leering at her from downstairs. I took a deep breath, sighed, and turned away and closed the door quietly. I realized that I had not mentioned in the note that I would not be coming back that night.

Chapter 3

The day was beautiful and the sunlight was stymied by the leaves of the tree canopy. It danced on the sidewalk at the whim of the wind moving the leaves above. I walked down the street in an absent-minded state. My eyes were seeing, but unfocussed, my mind was miles away but my feet knew which direction to take. I walked towards the schoolyard that I knew to be our unspoken predetermined court of choice, the same court we always used.

I arrived at the court shortly before 11:40, I was the first to arrive. The others started arriving one by one shortly after I got there. We were sitting around shooting the shit when Steve arrived with the ball. We all got up, Steve and I slapped hands, and we all started taking shots to warm up while continuing whatever conversations were already in progress. By 12:10 we were lining up to pick teams. George and Matt were the best players, so they were team captains and took turns making picks.

The game was fun. It was what I needed. It consumed my thoughts and allowed me to exert my body. Typically our games are: first to 29 points wins but you have to win by 2 points, each basket is worth 1 point regardless of distance, fouls are called by players but rarely are they called. This game went to 37-39 and was one of the best we'd ever had. It was close the entire way through with each team taking turns in the lead. Even if my team ended up losing in the end, I really enjoyed it.

After the game the crowd kind of dissipated a bit. A few of us stuck around to shoot baskets. Eventually, Steve and I were the only two remaining on the court. We decided to play a game of 21, which is a very low-key style, stationary shooting-based game that requires no running or jumping. We were talking about school and girls and nothing at all really.

We talked about what we were going to do later that night. It sounded like there wasn't really a lot going on that night, but it's common for people our age to keep house parties they're hosting under wraps until the last moment so that they don't become too crowded. Whatever, even if nothing came up we could always just bum around parks and meet up with other friends. I know it sounds like a group of listless kids potentially getting in to trouble, but besides underage drinking and the occasional social cigarette when inebriated, we were very law-abiding young citizens. Besides, the drinking age in my country is 19 so we were only one year underage at this point in my story. If we had been caught by police officers with booze, they would just tell us to pour it on to the ground and be on their way after they witnessed us do it. I speak from first-hand experience.

I sunk the final basket and finished the game with a score of 22. Steve and I headed in a different direction from which I had arrived, towards his place. On the walk, I broached a more serious topic that I wasn't quite sure how to bring up.

"Hey Steve, we've known each other a long time eh? All our lives pretty much."

He shrugged, "sure man, I can't remember not knowing you really."

"Well... I gotta ask you something that I need you to not repeat." I said this to him knowing that it was unnecessary. We trusted each other and he would never repeat anything I told him in confidence.

"Have you ever... y'know... have you ever found your own mother to be attractive?"

He raised an eyebrow at me and I could tell that he was making a conscientious effort to keep a straight face. To his credit, he was succeeding and he responded quickly with "my mom, no. Hell no. But you've seen her. If I had your mom on the other hand, well, different story."

I didn't respond, I knew that he would elaborate. He continued "I obviously mean no disrespect here John and I realize this is a revealing thing to ask anyone. If anything I feel flattered that you hold me in high enough regard to ask me such a potentially reputation-devastating question." He inhaled slowly and collected his thoughts. He looked at me.

"But your mom is a total smoke show. She's beautiful, she has a smoking hot tight little bod and an ass and pair of tits that are just un-fucking-real. Please pardon my candour."

I laughed a little. He really didn't mean any disrespect, he was just giving an honest answer to an honest question.

"No" he continued. "I have never found my mother attractive, but ever since a certain age I have always regarded your mom as one of the hottest women I've ever seen. And you know what John? I don't think being related to her would change that for me. There is nothing wrong with finding a hot woman attractive."