Layla Helps Her Son Pt 01

I tried to rewrite my previous (and only) story "Layla Solves a Problem for Her Son". Maybe I improved it, maybe not, but in the meantime it has grown, becoming the first part of a trilogy.

Hope you like it.

Of course, all the characters are in the legal age.

--------------

Layla turned off the television, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the black screen. She couldn't help but see the image of her grandmother Rosa forming in her mind.

It wasn't uncommon, Layla sometimes found herself thinking and talking just like her. They shared the same curvy figure and soft features, as well as deep, loving eyes. Now, sitting on the couch with one leg bent and her robe slipping off her shoulder and chest, she couldn't deny the resemblance between them. At forty-eight, Layla didn't mind being compared to her beloved grandmother at all. In fact, she was honored of it and she felt really lucky.

The bond between Layla and her beloved grandmother, affectionately known as "Nonna Rosa," was unbreakable. Although grandma preferred to be called by her american name, "Rose," she always reminded them that she was no longer in Italy. She had come to live with them after her husband passed away, when Layla was only thirteen. Her presence brought a warm and welcoming energy, unlike her daughter Maria, Layla's mother, who always seemed reserved. Grandma Rosa taught Layla the importance of accepting herself and her sexuality, without shame or hesitation.

"Never be ashamed of what makes you a woman," she would tell Layla with a wise smile. "Your body is your power, not a flaw. Use it."

Layla admired the way her grandmother lived confidently, embracing her desires and femininity as gifts rather than burdens. She didn't show herself, but she never tried to hide who she was. It took Layla a while to understand this lesson, this way of living. Gradually she enjoyed what life had to offer to her, knowing more men than she cared to remember.

But now she an adult and, with this sweet thought in mind, rose from the couch. "I love you, Nonna" she whispered to herself, taking comfort in the warmth of that feeling as she headed to the kitchen to make a herbal tea.

As the water boiled, Layla couldn't help but think about how true it was that sometimes traits were skipped over a generation. If she was a mirror image of her grandmother Rosa, in body and character, then Ted was just like her mother. He had inherited her slender frame (blessed genetics, Layla thought with a small smile), but also that slight sadness that always carried with him. It was as if the world had wronged him and he couldn't find peace.

At nineteen, he should have been out enjoying life and living carefree, just like Layla had done at his age. Instead, he always carried this heaviness inside him, an invisible weight that weighed him down. Layla's heart ached, she loved him deeply but she didn't know how to help. The feeling of being useless, the inability to brighten his days, caused her immense pain.

The kettle whistled, tearing her from her thoughts. Layla sighed and poured hot water into her favorite mug, feeling the heat of the steam on her face. With her herbal tea in hand, she headed for the bedroom. After a long day of cleaning other people's houses in the morning and her own in the afternoon, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed next to Mark.

She passed by her son's room, expecting to hear his soft snoring as usual. "Soon he'll only get louder with age, just like his father," she thought with a small smile. But this time, something was different. Instead of snoring, she heard Ted groaning.

The door was slightly open, then pushed it further and peeked into it. Here he is: his thin boy who wagged on the bed, clinging to the sheets strong. She entered silently.

"Ted, honey?" she whispered. No answer, he continued to make those noisy noises. It was probably just a nightmare, nothing serious, but the heart of Layla squeezed for the concern. She did not stand to see his son in that state, his maternal instinct did not allow it. She had never been one who ignored things, especially about Ted.

She tried again, this time calling a little stronger. No changes. She thought of waking him up, but she knew how much his son he struggled to fall asleep. She then remembered a technique of Rosa, when grandma gently caressed her face to calm her down. She decided to give a try.

She placed the cup on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed. With attention, she placed the tip of her fingers on his forehead and began to trace slow circular movements to the outside, as if to wipe out his disturbed thoughts. Gradually, she saw him start to relax under his touch.

Her fingers slipped along his smooth cheeks and then moved to his neck, massaging away the tension and stress that seemed to torment him. With a rapid and fluid movement, she released her fingers as if to get rid of any negative energy, imagining it launched far away. She repeated this movement two more times. Slowly, Ted's breath became more regular and his body relaxed. He finally managed to fall into a deep sleep.

Layla looked again for a moment, wishing to be able to solve all of his problems. But for now, she had given him some peace and that's enough.

But, as she took her cup to leave, she noticed something in the area of ​​the lower belly of Ted. It was swollen and, at a more careful exam, she understood that it was an erection. Maybe caused by her caresses?

"What did I do?", Layla thought to herself, embarrassed. Now he had another problem, perhaps worse, and this time was her fault.

Layla was very tired. She just wanted to help her son sleep better, but she now wanted to go to bed. She ardently wished to curl up in her husband's arms, perhaps making love, and falling asleep peacefully next to him. After all Ted was able to manage his problems, just like any other boy of his age.

However, when her gaze returned to Ted, a deeper awareness hit her. He was her son, the love of her life together with Mark and loved them both deeply. Even just thinking that one of the two is sick, it caused her immense pain. Layla understood that her grandmother, in addition to the sensuality, had also sent her the instinct to take care of her family. In every way.

"But is it really my responsibility?" she wondered with a mixture of emotions. She could do it, but she didn't want to.

Yet the answer arrived quickly, in a sweet inner whisper that could not ignore: "There is only me, at the moment. If not me, then who?"

So, in a sigh, the decision was made.

She placed the tea on the bedside table and raised the sheet to find out the lower part of the body, exposing his thin legs. With a deep breath, she lengthened her hand to the elastic of his shorts and pulled down gently.

When she was in difficulty, her brain always sought the humorous side of the problem to help. In this case, she was thinking that she hadn't seen her son's penis for at least ten years. Ted had always been shy and reserved about his sexuality. Now she noticed that, meanwhile, it grew a beard.

This small revelation had her chuckled; she needed that moment to relax, preparing for what she should have done. Slowly she began to massage his penis, using a delicate rhythm that she knew would give him pleasure. Her experience as a woman and her love as a mother were guided. In fact, within a few seconds, she understood from his answers that he was close to the orgasm.

"Fuck... what I do now?" she said.

Layla's only thought was to help him, without considering the potential mess. She knew he needed to relax, but she also didn't want him or the bed to become dirty. She quickly glanced around the room for a solution and spotted her herbal tea on the nightstand. With one hand still holding onto Ted's penis, she grabbed the cup and drank its contents in one gulp. Using the opening as a makeshift receptacle, she guided Ted's member inside and resumed stroking him until he reached his climax with a final moan. As he ejaculated, Layla made sure to catch it all in the cup.

She noticed, with surprise, that she enjoyed the spurt, because her son's sperm was very beautiful to see.

She continued to stroke his cock until it was completely empty, then cleaned it thoroughly with her tongue, before depositing the contents into the cup. Finally, she looked up at him with a satisfied smile on her face.

Ted let out a deep sigh and lay peacefully, his body now completely at ease as he breathed regularly. Layla felt content, glad that she had succeeded in making him feel good. Her method may not have been considered conventional, but what mattered was that it worked.

She planted a gentle kiss on his forehead and whispered, "Sleep well, my dear. Your mother is here for you." Ted rolled onto his side and drifted into a peaceful slumber.

Layla's face lit up with another smile as she carried the cup to the bathroom. She poured out its contents into the sink, refilled it with water, and made her way to the bed. Finally. Then, she took off her robe and snuggled up next to her husband.

Mark stirred slightly, his arm automatically wrapping around her as he gave her a sleepy kiss on the lips. "I love you," he mumbled before drifting back off to sleep.

"I love you too," she replied, and she meant it. She rolled over onto her side, still beaming with a smile, and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

She felt really lucky.