Chapter 14 - The Kiss
This was it. This was really it. He was so nervous. He couldn't believe that he was about to kiss his mother. Once they kissed, once their lips touched and once he parted her lips with his tongue, there'd be no turning back. Once they French kissed, forget about his inspiration as artistic expression to write his Nude Day story, going way beyond that already, he'd be crossing the line.
She looked at him and he looked at her, as if they had already been lovers. With all the mind games they've been playing and all the teasing they've been doing, they had been lovers, cerebrally but not physically. With all of Jason's logical thought erased by the lust that he had for his mother, about to cross the imaginary incestuous line, about to go where no mother should go with her son, going beyond the point of no return, none of that seemed to matter anymore. What mattered more was the lust that Jason had for his mother and, obviously, the lust she had for him. Not only were they about to kiss, with her playing the part of the sexy cougar and him playing the part of her cub but also they were about to touch.
Mother and son kissing and touching was only something that he wrote about in his stories. Mother and son stripping naked was only something that he had imagined in his bedroom at night with his hand around his cock. Mother and son having sex was still something that he couldn't imagine happening. Never thinking that it would ever happen, here he was at the precipice of his own, real live erotic story. For sure, after this night, he'd write the best mother and son Nude Day story ever written, Mom Strips Naked for Nude Day. Oh, yeah.
"Are you as nervous as I am?" She looked at her son, before taking another sip of wine.
"Yes, I am very nervous. To be honest, Mom, focused just on seeing you naked to write my story, I never even thought of French kissing you, while touching you," he said lying again. "Yet, now I realize for me to write my story, I need to act, as if I'm just a man with a woman on a hot date and not a son with his mother in the living room at home."
"Being that I'm nervous, too, maybe if we kissed, maybe if we got that over with and out of the way, we won't be as nervous about French kissing one another," she said looking at her son, in the way that he figured she looked at those men that she met and had sex with from that online dating site. "Maybe the kiss will allow us to know what to do or not to do next."
"Okay," he said putting his arm around his mother's shoulders and pulling her closer, as if he was at the movies or in his car with his date.
Only, as soon as he touched her, he suddenly felt differently about her. Unlike his dates his age, he realized that she was a woman that he couldn't control. As soon as he touched her shoulders, as if the incestuous spell that was over him had broken, he realized that what he was doing was wrong. This was his mother that he was about to kiss. This was his mother that he was hoping to see naked. This was his mother that he wanted to give him sex.
She created him and made him all that he is today. She cared for him as a baby. She breastfed him and here he was hoping to recreate that moment and that bond between mother and child by not having her feed him but by having her give him sex and incestuous pleasure. For sure, if he continued and if they went through with this, Mother's Day would never be the same, he laughed to himself but Valentine's Day would be oh, so much better.
Although he's imagined it and had written about it, a first for everything, especially today, he never held his mother in this way. As if she was his date, while hoping to make it to first base, when he held her in this way, she felt so small and so vulnerable and he felt so excited and horny. With his hand sliding across her back to rest on her shoulder, she had a firm, yet, soft body and, by the mere touch of her back and shoulder, along with the feel of her bra strap through her blouse with his fingertips, his cock swelled with his sexual excitement and his incestuous intentions. Knowing that he'd be masturbating over the memory of this day for the rest of his life, not wanting this to be a fast forward memory, wanting to savor every first moment with his mother, he wanted to take things slow.
Obviously, feeling differently about savoring the moment and wanting to take things slow, not wasting any time and taking his message from her, when she leaned into him he leaned into her, until their lips met. If a woman did this to him, kissed him first, he'd suspect he'd be getting lucky. If a woman did this to him, made the first move, he'd figure that she was hot for him and would be sucking his cock later. Only, this woman wasn't just any woman. This woman was his mother.
At first their kiss was just a quick peck, a kiss that any mother would give her son in the morning or a night. Then, perhaps, in acting the part of the Casanova to more befit his mother and son erotic story, he kissed her full on the lips in the way that Lana Turner kissed John Garfield in the movie, The Postman Always Rings Twice, back in the '40's, with all of the government controlled censorship. Only, with the kiss just starting, not even giving him the time to relish in the thought that he was finally kissing his mother, not allowing him to make his moves, she stole his thunder by assuming the part of the aggressive cougar, when she parted his lips with her tongue and French kissed him.
His mother French kissed him. He couldn't believe his mother French kissed him. All this time he was worried what to do and how to react, whenever he did, whatever he did, and she was already beyond all of that foolishness of speculation and self doubt. His mother, no doubt, was a woman, who knew what she wanted and what she wanted was him.
