Thanks to everyone who has requested (nay, demanded!), that this story continue and my apologies for this next installment taking so long to come to life -- writer's block sucks, but I seem to slowly getting my writing chops back. For those tuning in for the first time -- please go check out in order "Christmas with Mom", "New Year's Eve with Mom" and then Parts 01 and 02 of "Mother and Son: A Love Story." Please keep up the feedback -- it is what inspires me to continue and hopefully makes me write better with each successive effort.
As for the usual -- any character's resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidence. All characters exist only within the confines of my imagination. Now, please go read and enjoy!
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This place was something out of an old country-gospel song. A small clapboard church, painted white with a small, but tall steeple, situated in a holler between two low mountain ridges. Mom and I were sitting on hard wooden benches about mid way up the sanctuary, holding hands as the minister, a scrawny, middle aged fellow with a bobbing Adam's apple, held forth in a sermon about God's love for us and that love was what our world lacked most.
Mom squeezed my hand as the minister emphasized with a slapping hand on his podium that, "An' love just ain't overflowing in this sinful world and when you find love, you need to embrace it and hold it as tight as you can, for it is sure to be a sin in God's eyes for anyone to let love, which is his most precious gift to us all, to let love be lost and abandoned."
Several of the church's parishioners murmured a fervent amen and I glanced at Mom, the sight of her making my heart beat just that much faster and I said in a heartfelt whisper, "Amen." The look my mother gave me in response made me fall in love with her all over again and to be honest, gave me an erection right in the middle of the church service.
Mom had asked me to take her to church and I was happy to do so. We had gotten up early and we had drove deep into the mountains of Eastern Kentucky to take Mom's friend, Emma up on her invitation to attend church this sunny Sunday morning -- the same church Mom had been raised up in. It was a beautiful day -- yesterday's long rain scrubbing the humidity out of the air and making it a day to be thankful just be alive, not to mention sitting hand in hand with the woman you loved.
Mom looked lovely as always. She was wearing the most conservative of her sexy outfits that she had brought with her on our trip, but it did nothing to nullify her sheer sensuous beauty. Mom's longish black hair was pulled back in a French twist that draped over her right shoulder. She was wearing another yellow sundress that had a squared scoop neckline that put the upper portions of her voluptuous breasts on proud display. The hemline was just above her knees and showed off her shapely legs in a way that drew the eye of every male with a pulse and not a few of the females around as well. Mom was lovely and exuded sex, but in truth, I think Mom would have looked sexy in a polar suit.
We had been greeted warmly by the minister, a Reverend Golwell, who announced our presence early in his remarks to the church before beginning his sermon. "We are so gratified to have our sister Carrie back amongst us today, her and her son John and we hope they will visit us again. Sister Emma tells me they are considering a move back to our beautiful state and Lord willing, maybe soon we'll see them every Sunday."
There were several murmurs and cranings of necks to check us out, the murmurs seeming to be positive in tone. Emma Johnson smiled happily at us from the choir loft and for not the last time, I marveled that someone else knew about Mom and I being lovers and they wholeheartedly approved. When the choir finished its last song and they returned to their seats while the last refrain played out, I looked with great interest as Emma sat down next to a tall, middle aged man a little older than her. They both smiled approvingly at Mom and me as Reverend Golwell began his sermon.
It sent a thrill through me to know that Emma and her Bill were brother and sister, that we weren't the only incestuous lovers around. I could see the family resemblance in them from the color of their hair and eyes to the shape of their noses. As Reverend Golwell preached, I would let my eyes wander over the worshippers and tried to imagine who else sitting here might know and understand the love that Mom and I shared.
After the service, many folks came by to greet us or to catch up with Mom. As Mom chatted with several folks, I stood by her side proudly, holding her hand as she introduced me to various old friends or neighbors. I had no idea how many might know or suspect that Mom and I were lovers and soulmates, but each seemed to greet us as a couple and I found that wonderful and arousing, although I was a little embarrassed as my slacks did nothing to hide the bulge of my erect cock.
As we walked down the steps of the church entrance, an old man tottered up to meet us at the bottom, his arm held and supported by a woman maybe fifteen or twenty years older than Mom. He was short and slightly built, his hair white and thin and he was wearing glasses with coke bottle lenses, magnifying his eyes into enormous orbs.
"Why, Carrie Hamilton! You've gone an' grown up!" the old man said in a voice that belied his years.
Mom squealed with happiness and said, "Why, Reverend Simmons! I didn't see you when we came in. It's so good to see you!" Mom hurried to the bottom of the steps and gave the old man a careful hug. He cackled and hugged her back hard.
"Yessireebob! Little Carrie Hamilton all grown up, pretty as ever and with a handsome young man!" He turned to the woman beside him and remarked, "Why, I can remember baptizing this little girl when she was eleven years old. Her daddy was so proud."
Mom blushed with happiness and introduced me as her son. Reverend Simmons shook my head gravely and said, "Your Mom is just a wonderful woman, but --" and he paused and winked at me, "But I reckon you already know that." He turned again to the woman on his arm and said, "Carrie, you remember my youngest daughter, Melinda?"
"Pleased to meet you, Carrie -- John," Melinda said. "Papa, I doubt Carrie would remember me. I moved to Detroit about the time Carrie was a little girl." She smiled at us and said, "I came home to live with Papa when Mama died."
"Oh Reverend Simmons, I didn't know! I am so sorry to hear Miz Simmons passed on!" Mom reached out and hugged the old man again. "Marilyn was a wonderful woman!"
An expression of sadness passed over the old man's face. "Yes, I miss her everyday, Carrie." Then his expression brightened as he turned and smiled at his daughter. "But my Melinda has been by my side every day since these last nine years or so and we've been very happy." He reached over and kissed his daughter on the cheek and she beamed with happiness.
A thrill shot through me as I read a lot into his remarks. Mom had told me that Reverend Simmons had married his own sister and now I had to wonder if he had the same loving relationship with his daughter.
