When I woke up the next morning, Mom was already gone. Geez, she couldn't even face me--I really did fuck it up. I went out and got a few job applications, but I was too upset to give a shit. I headed back to the room around lunchtime, and found Mom there crying. She stopped as soon as I came in, trying to hide her tears.
"Mom, what's the matter?"
"Nothing," she got up but seemed all out of sorts. "I should get back out there. I'll get out of your way."
"Wait. Tell me what's wrong."
"I don't...I'm not...Oh, sweetheart," she blurted and plopped back down into the chair sobbing. "I'm so, so sorry. I'm so very ashamed about what I did last night."
"What? Why?"
"I thought it would be innocent enough. But once it started, all these feelings came out of me. I let things go too far. I should never have said all that awful, dirty stuff in front of you, much less do the nasty things I did. It was wrong. So wrong."
"No, Mom, it's okay," I assured her as I knelt down next to her. "Your idea makes a lot of sense. Like you said, we both have needs, so what's the point of sneaking around and hiding what we do from each other?"
"You must think I'm a horrible mother to have done something so filthy like that."
"Of course not. If anything, I feel even closer to you." I wrapped my arms around her to comfort her as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "You said it yourself. We're both grown-ups. I understand that you have urges, and I don't think there's anything wrong about that. I mean, you are my mom, sure, but you're also a woman. And besides, when you think about it, it should be okay to share this kind of stuff with the person who loves you the most in the world, right?"
"I do love you, honey, more than anything. And that's the reason we can't do that again." She cut off my next protest before I could say anything more. "Please, sweetheart, let's just forget that it ever happened and go back to the way things were. Okay?"
It was obvious there was nothing I could say to convince her. I couldn't believe it was suddenly all over, just like that. I shrugged glumly in response to her pleading look, and quickly left the room before I began doing something childish--like start to cry.
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That night we went about our routines in silence. I alternated between feeling sad for myself, and angry about the whole situation. When Mom finally got into bed she gave me a quick peck on the cheek, then turned over to go to sleep.
I lay there, unable to stop thinking about the night before. My cock stiffened, and that just got me more angry. How could she give me such a wonderful gift like that, then take it away? It wasn't fair. We had an understanding! Something we both agreed on. But then she decided, all on her own, that it was going to stop. Well, she could stop if she wanted, but I didn't have to.
I kicked off the sheet, and pulled out my throbbing cock. I began by stroking myself nice and easy. I waited for some movement or reaction from Mom's side of the bed. When none came, I sped up and jerked myself a bit harder, making sure to bounce the bed a little.
"Honey, what are you doing?" Mom finally asked without turning over.
"I'm playing with myself."
"I thought we decided we weren't going to do that," she said firmly.
"You decided. I need some relief, and I'm going to do it right here in bed."
"Fine. I'll wait in the bathroom until you're done then."
"I saw you getting out of the shower the other night," I said quickly before she could leave. I continued to stroke my cock, praying for a response.
"You shouldn't peek at your own mother like that." She remained motionless on her side of the bed, still turned away from me.
"I only saw a little bit of you from behind, but it made me hard."
"You got excited when you saw your Mommy naked?"
"Yes." I slid my hand up and down my shaft with measured control. "I saw your back, and your long legs, and I saw your naked ass." She didn't say anything for several tense moments. I reached down and fondled my balls. While I continued to rub myself I held my breath in anticipation. Eventually, Mom rolled onto her back.
"I knew you were outside the door," she confessed softly. "I noticed how you were watching me--how you were always looking at my body--so I did a bad thing and left the door open just a little, thinking maybe..."
"I like looking at your body. I think about it all the time," I admit.
"But it's wrong, honey. It's wrong to look at your mother like that."
"I can't help it. You're so beautiful. And your breasts are so big, and your ass is so round and smooth," I speak without thinking, without caring, lost in the incestuous bliss of the moment.
"Please, stop saying those things. Just...play quietly, sweetie" she begged. I defiantly let out a low groan of pleasure.
"Masturbate with me, Mom. Put your hand down there and touch yourself."
"No, honey, I can't. It's not nice for a mother to masturbate with her son."
"It's okay, Mom, I want you to. I want you to make yourself feel good."
"It does feel good when Mommy touches herself down there."
"Please, Mom," I whisper in my most plaintive tone.
"All right then," she answered after a long hesitation. "But no more talking. And absolutely no peeking at Mommy while you have your penis out."