Jds Bedroom

Our family life continued down its usual path. JD's dad worked his usual eight hour day and dutifully completed my honey do list over the weekend. I remained engaged with a circle of friends and also took time for myself, as I always have. JD did what JD does, which for the most part involved time in his room or time out with his friends.

My struggle with the thought of returning occurred in silence. It would run through my mind involuntarily for the most part; although there were times when I couldn't control myself and would intentionally call up the emotional and the visual. The desire and urge to fulfill myself as both JD's mother and lover was, and still is, compelling.

I could only wonder what was on JD's mind, as we sat through our meals, watched TV, talked about our daily lives. This stand-still remained intact until one evening.

I was finishing a load of laundry in the laundry room which is across the hall from JD's room. I heard JD talking on the phone and he sounded more animated than his usual monotone.

As a mother, I shouldn't feel jealous of a son's life beyond her reach, but the implication crossed my mind. I had to admit to myself, I wanted to hold onto to him in more ways than one.

The next morning, JD woke earlier than his usual 10 am. He left without as much as a goodbye, which was unusual. JD's dad was already at work. As I cleared the breakfast table, I heard a phone ring.

My phone rarely leaves my side, so I assumed JD's dad must have left his behind. I looked at the screen until went silent could tell it belonged to JD.

His phone was locked, but from the pop-up message it appeared the call had something to do with an online video meeting. I knew JD had an active online social life and could only imagine how far beyond the virtual he goes.

I took the phone up to JD's room, placed it on his desk, and felt my legs go weak. I felt my chest begin to heave. I fought back tears. I steadied myself. After a moment of stillness, the blood returned to my head. I walked over to JD's bed and sat down.

His room felt like my cocoon. I looked around at the clutter, then up at the ceiling, which appeared to close in and surround me like a blanket. I let my head rest on JD's pillow.

I recalled our special moments and allowed myself to give in to the warmth, the intimacy, the forbidden, and then the arousal that invariably followed. In that moment I felt closer to him then I'd ever been.

I begin to visualize myself on the edge of his bed, dressed in a negligee and long robe. I talk, while JD listens patiently and sometimes distractedly, as he scrolls through his phone. The only thing that matters is the fact we're together.

I stand up, conscious of the way I've dressed. I look seductive in a way that a mother should not appear before her son. The kitten heel sandals accentuate my toe nail polish, black with hidden desire. My hair is loose, tousled; I shake my head slightly and let my hair fall in front of my eyes, concealing my mouth, the lipstick, the red gloss.

I move into the light, revealing my silhouette and appear nude to the naked eye. I follow JD's gaze circling the globe of my face, through my hair, around my neck, across my lips and into my mouth. I read his mind and share his desire, and our longing for another first kiss.

My appearance leaves little to the imagination. Silk dances with the motion of my loose breasts. It teases and hardens my nipples. The barely there heart shape of blond pubic hair is an unmistakable and frivolous decoration. Everything else between my legs is shaved smooth, to the point of perfection.

When I sit back down at the foot of JD's bed, I follow my hands and stretch onto my side, resting on my elbow and crossing my legs.

"Mother you are beautiful. I think your hair is longer than it has ever been."

I playfully toss my head, get on my hands and knees like a tiger, growl and shake my hair. I laugh, reminded of the game we've played so many times before.

The silence that follows is deafening. I mimic JD's habit of licking then biting down on his lower lip, but continue to bite to the point of pain and bruising.

At the point of nearly drawing blood, I sense a flash of light and searing heat, almost like a knock-out. I react to the slight touch between my knees.

"No JD, please stop. I'm begging you, we cannot resurrect our special bond. This isn't right, it isn't left, it is simply not allowed. It doesn't matter what we understand or want; there are social limits to our reciprocal need for intimacy. The world has a say in this too. This is more than the love a mother has for her son, or a son's desire and need to love her back."

With each recrimination, each plea and each plaintive attempt at resistance, I force myself to leave the realm of the forbidden and the illicit. My legs begin to relax and pull my knees up,. I feel hands on my breasts, fingertips twisting my nipples.

At the slight touch of a palm cupping my mons venus, I resist the urge to moan. I release the tension between my knees and allow my thighs to open. One finger travels the length of my canal, leaving a wet slick in its wake.

The feel of two and then three fingers sliding into my vagina triggers a slow fall into ecstasy. I roll my thumb onto my clitoris, like a toggle, each maneuver pulling me closer to the edge.