Old Fashioned Mom

When I got home from work, mom was asleep on the sofa; the house was in its usual perfect order. Only the vacuum cleaner was still out and I figured that she hadn't put it away because she got too tired. She'd gone from a stay-at-home wife to a woman with two jobs, almost overnight. It was taking its toll, but not on her body. Few would have guessed that she was in her late thirties.

She was curled up on her side with her legs pulled up, accentuating her already well-rounded butt. The shorts she always wore around the house left lots of thigh and leg showing, but when she was out of the house, she dressed conservatively. Some of the tops she wore at home showed her cleavage, and some of that cleavage was showing as her arms had pressed her breasts together. The v-neck tee shirt she was wearing was pulled tight because of how she was sleeping and I could make out a hint of her nipple even though she was wearing a bra.

I know that this isn't the way a son usually looks at his mother, but it's how I looked at mine. My fascination with her had started a long time before and I was resigned to the fact that she turned me on. No, it was more than that, because whatever little sexual contact I'd had with girls as I grew up never left my mother out of the mix. When my eyes were closed, and I was touching, or being touched, I saw her.

So my urge to run my hand over the curve of her ass, or reach in to finally feel the flesh of her inviting breast, wasn't surprising. Of course I wouldn't do it, so I was content to look, as she slept, and I stiffened.

I began to fantasize about her waking up and smiling at her son who was her lover. I would stand by her as she sat and she would put her hand on my bulge and say, "Hello darling."

I would say "Hi mom," and put my knee between her legs so she would spread them. She would sit in that inviting position as she kissed and stroked her son's cock, until wordlessly she would take me out of my pants and into her mouth. And when I was rock solid, she would take her shorts and panties off, hold her legs back from behind her knees and wait for me to enter her. And I would penetrate the pussy that would always be waiting for me, over and over, until we both came.

That was only one of my fantasies, but my reality was that even after graduating high school, I'd never gone all the way with anyone. I was starting to feel the urgency, and the pressure was building because I could look at the object of my desire every day at home.

I know that mom noticed that my jokes and comments had turned mostly sexual, because she said, "Boy your hormones are working overtime, but I guess 'tis the season' for you."

I said, "Isn't it for everyone? How about you?"

She laughed and said, "Honey! That's not something you ask your mother."

I said, "Why not, I thought we talked about everything."

She said, "Well, not everything." She dragged out the word 'Everything.'

I said, "Okay."

After a moment of thought she said, "No you're right, why not, it's nothing to be ashamed of, and we should talk about everything." She laughed, "Now what was your question?"

I said, "Well I was wondering, since dad, if you had the urge to...go out."

She said, "I think I'm getting there, but I'm not going to rush." That was mom, everything measured and correct. Some people put it down, but I always saw her as an ideal housewife, and I usually focused on the wife part. She was as traditional a mom as there could be, at least until dad was gone. She'd brought me up, cooked, taken care of the house, and sewed everything that didn't move, curtains, clothes, table runners, pillows, even lamp shades. When I was a kid I asked her to sew me a bike. That was a family joke for a long time.

Mom was so good at sewing thing that they asked her to teach a night class at the local high school. I used to pick her up three times a week. I was usually early, and they served some refreshments after class so I got to know most of her dozen students, many of whom were older women.

There was one who looked only a few years older than I was. Her name was Virginia and we gravitated to each other. She loved to laugh and she always had a joke for me. Once when she told me that she walked five miles a day I said, "You're kidding."

She said "No, if I was kidding, I'd have asked you what you do with an elephant with three balls?"

I said, "What?"

She said, "You walk him, and pitch to the rhino." I laughed and she covered her mouth to keep some of her explosive laughter inside. When I asked her if she was married she said, "I wish. Why, are you in the market, I know a girl who can sew like...," she couldn't think of anything and then said, "...the wind." I don't know why, but we both found it funny enough to have everyone looking in our direction.

For that class, mom actually put together a book of instructions and patterns, and the school published it. They sell it locally. She doesn't get much money for it, but it makes her proud. She'd always said that the only thing wrong with getting married so early was that she never got to go to college.

That's probably why she was always pushing me to go on after high school, but college wasn't where I wanted to be. Dad had been a mechanic and I learned early the insides and outsides of engines. I worked part-time all through high school because I wanted to. After dad, the extra money came in handy.

The sewing class became mom's second job. The insurance got us through, but it wouldn't last forever so mom took a job as a clerk. That was her first full time job - in her life. Even I had more experience working, but we got along financially.

And we got along in the other sense, as we always had. We liked each other. I only remember one shouting match about me staying out too late. We were both sorry afterwards and I realized that it was my fault for not calling, and making her worry.

So I was concerned about my sexual feelings for her, because I didn't want her to think badly of me, or even worse. I loved her and I didn't want her to stop loving me. But I also wanted her, and I desired her to love me in a way most mothers won't.

My first sexual contact with her was one she didn't put in that category. She was in the kitchen working at a cutting board, and I came up to see what she was making. I stood behind her and caught the smell of her powder. She never wears perfume, but the powder had a nice light fragrance. I was by her neck and on impulse, I said, "What's up? Mmm...you smell so good," and I kissed each side of her neck.

She smiled and said, "Oh, you're so sweet." She went on to tell me what she was making and I started getting hard because I knew that I had kissed her differently. I watched her from behind while she worked and stiffened even more as I looked at her ass. I turned and left because I didn't want her to see the hard-on I had for her.

It was only a few days later that what I later came to call, "The incident," happened. Both of us had a particularly bad day and she said she was feeling down, so I said, "Why don't we just get fuddled." That was the word she used for anyone who was high, drunk, or just out of their mind.

She said, "Why don't we?" So we got out a case of beer and put on some music. I turned the lights out and lit some candles. Neither of us are real drinkers, so after only a couple of bottles, we were both feeling good, and laughing.

When a slow song came on I said, "How about a dance?"

She said, "I'd love to Darlin'." I held her and after a few minutes of mostly swaying, she put her arms around my neck and settled in to my body. I'd never felt her against me for that long and it was starting to have its effect. We stayed in that position when another slow one played. I kissed the side of her neck and she said, "Mmm..." I kissed the other side and she didn't say anything. She looked at me. I looked at her. I kissed her, and after a few seconds of our lips in slightly open-mouthed contact, I touched her tongue with mine.

She pulled back and said, "Oh Darren, I'm sorry...I don't know what's come over me." She put her hand on her head and closed her eyes as she rubbed her forehead.

I said, "Don't be sorry mom, it was me, and it was something I wanted to do for a long time."

As if she didn't hear, or I didn't say it, she responded with, "I think I'd better go to bed...I just had too much to drink." As she left she said, "Goodnight baby." I said goodnight and spent another night thinking about her, and wondering if I'd done some irrevocable damage.

For the next few days we both acted as if nothing had happened, but there was an underlying uneasiness that said it had. So by the end of the week I decided I would say something. She'd been going to her room early each night, so I knocked and she told me to come in and I found her sitting on the bed reading.

I said, "Let's talk mom."

She hesitantly said, "Okay."

I said, "Mom, I don't know how this is going to come out...I thought about what I would say to you for a while, and now I can't think of one thing...so I'm just going to tell you how I feel. I love you mom."

She quickly said, "I love you too Darren."

I said, "No mom, I mean something else. Oh man...sometimes I'm not sure I live here on earth...I think things, I imagine things, that sound crazy even to me and then I think that in some way it makes sense."

Mom said, "Honey...I'm not sure what you're talking about."

I laughed. "I don't doubt that, I'm not that sure myself...I guess I'm having trouble saying the words...mom, I love you more than just 'I love you.' It's that I want you...and I love you..." I sounded like a stammering fool, but mom was getting the gist.

She said, "Darren, you mean...physically?"

I said, "Yes."

She looked at me sort of glazed over and said, "Oh...boy."

I said, "Yeah, I know."

She said, "Have I done something to make you feel this way? I mean I'm so confused at this moment I don't know...when we were dancing the other night...I thought you were getting excited, but I said to myself I was wrong, but I should have stopped anyway..."

I said, "No mom. It doesn't have anything to do with the other night; it's been...quite a while."

She said, "I know that since dad's been gone, I've leaned on you... guess I cried in your arms enough times...is that it Darren, was I too physical?"

I said, "No you didn't do anything mom."

That wasn't exactly true, because it did turn me on, every time she was up against me, and when she fell asleep on me as we sat and watched TV, and when she came home tired at night after standing for hours at work and asked me rub her legs. Yes it turned me on, but not more than my visions of her in my daydreams, and in my night dreams, where I would touch her, and she would respond, where I was a son, with a mother for a lover.

She said, "But then why would you think...?"

I said, "I know it sounds crazy, but somehow I got it into my head that maybe...you know after you were alone for so long, that maybe there would be a chance...I wanted it to be you mom, I wanted my first time to be with you....because I love you so much."

She said, "What do you mean, when you were going out with Kaylee, I thought...you weren't with her?"

I said, "We came close, but we never actually did it. I don't think I wanted it to be her. And after Kaylee, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

She pressed her heart as if it were beating heavily and said, "Oh Daren, until the other night, I never imagined...I didn't now that you felt...that way." She looked off.

I said, "How could you mom? Please don't be upset. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to tell you, or do something...I don't know...I don't even know myself how it happened. Loving you just turned into this other thing too. I know I'm not supposed to feel this way about you, but I do...I can't help it. Oh Jeez...are you horrified mom? I guess you never want to look at me again."

She turned her head and met my eyes. She said, "Of course I do. I love to look at you and I'm glad you told me, but it's taking a little time for me to process this. No baby, I'm not horrified. I know you're saying this out of love, and that's what every woman wants, but at this moment...I don't even know what to say. I think I have to sort all this out." She put her hand on my arm and said, "Don't be sorry you told me Darren, I'm glad you did. Just let me think about all this, and we can talk more tomorrow night, after I get home from work." She smiled and said, "If I can concentrate on work at all...is that okay baby?"

I said, "Sure mom, I'm just glad you don't hate me."

She kissed my cheek. "Never," she said. I left her room and wasn't sure if I was glad or not that it was out in the open.

The next night when mom got home she said, "Let's talk." We sat on the sofa and she took my hand in hers, taking a deep breath. She said, "I couldn't think about anything else all day...whatever I thought, I kept feeling that I want to be here for you, in a way that would help you. So can we talk about this so I understand it better?"

I said, "Sure mom."

She said, "Tell me about Kaylee; I thought you were close."

I said, "Mom, you've seen her enough to know. She's loud, we fight, but that's really not it. I know she would have had sex with me, she even said the words that she wanted me, but I wasn't ready to do it with her."

Mom said, "Well maybe with someone else?"

I said, "No, I just realized that that it's not just the sex. I can't explain it better than to say that when I look at you, you're the one I want to be with. I find other girls attractive, but I don't want it to be with them. I guess I love you mom."

She shook her head, "I don't know, when I was your age, all the boys I knew would have had sex with anyone...or any thing for that matter."

I said, "I know that mom, and I could have had Kaylee; I had the chance, but all I thought about was you."

She said, "Darren, you know I love you and the mother in me wants to give you what you need, but I can't really have sex with you, you know that don't you?"

I said, "I guess I don't. We're old enough; we love each other..."

She said, "I know honey, but a mother can't sleep with her son."

I said, "Why not, some do. Some don't let other people tell them what to think." She was quiet and I said, "Mom, do you like the way I look?"

She said, "I always tell you how handsome I think you are...it's not about that, it's just unrealistic."

I said, "Mom, would you read something for me?"

She said, "Okay, now?"

I said, "No, I have to print it out, maybe tomorrow." I sang the line, 'Will you still love me tomorrow?' I knew she liked that song.

She smiled, "I'll never stop loving you...no matter what you tell me." So we left it there and I spent a few hours on the computer that night, tracking down an article I'd read about some family relationships that had interviews with some mothers and sons that actually were living together. I also printed two stories. I had always liked them because they were about mothers and sons who had sex, but they did it because they were in love.

The next day was Saturday and we both had it off. I gave them to her and said, "If it's too much, or you can't handle it, you don't have to read them."

She looked at it and said, "Is this what you read?"

I said, "Sometimes. It's a couple of stories and an article about...well; you'll read it, if you can."

She said, "I'll read it." She took the papers into her bedroom.

About an hour later she came out and I couldn't tell much from her expression and I said, "Was it bad, were you able to read them?"

She said, "Honey, I'm not as fragile, or old fashioned as you think. I've read erotic stories before, even if these were a little...different. You know as far as the article goes, well I guess you can also find people for whom it didn't work out, but I will say that I was moved by those two stories. They were touching love stories. What they were willing to do for each other and the sacrifices they made to be together...I was moved."

The fact that she said that she'd read erotica before surprised me. I said, "So you liked it."

"Yes, I liked it," she said. "But that's a story, and our life is a different thing."

Her tone made feel as if I wasn't going to say anything to change her mind, so I said, "Okay, thanks for reading it."

I must have sounded defeated, because she said, "Honey, someone's going to do it for you and then you'll see this is just... an obstacle, that you'll get around. You're going to find her baby."

I said, "I already have." It almost came out as a whisper when I said, "I wanted it to be you mom...I need it to be you."

She came up to me and put her arm around my shoulder, kissed my head and said, "Oh Darren..."

I said, "I just wanted to love you. I'm sorry."

She was teary and she didn't say anything but she shook her head as if to say, 'Don't be sorry.'

I didn't see her for the rest of the day. That evening came home and said, "I was in the park all afternoon."

I said, "Oh, was it nice, I didn't go out."

She said, "Yes, it was nice. I thought about you all day, and I realized that in my heart, I'm touched that you want me that way. And even though at some point I may realize that I must be insane, I think that I want to do this for you. I know it might be a big mistake, but after everything you told me, I'm hoping it's the right thing to do." She took a deep breath and said, "Honey, I'll be your first...I'm proud that you want it to be me."

I don't know if the shock I felt showed on my face but all I managed to say was, "Oh...wow...mom..."

She said, "Give me a few minutes," and she went into her room and closed the door. I think I could have come right at that minute.

I heard the shower going for a while and after the longest twenty minutes of my life, I knocked gently on her door and said, "Mom...?"

She said, "Give me a few more minutes honey."

I said, "Okay," and stood by the door with my whole body vibrating.

Finally she called through the door, "Come in."

I walked in and a light mix of talc and scented soap floated by as I saw her sitting up on the bed smiling. She had a sheer black cover-up on that revealed matching bra and panties. She said, "I thought I'd never wear this again."

I said, "I'm glad you did...you look unbelievable mom."

She said, "Thank you baby," and reached her hand out as I stood frozen in the doorway.

I walked up and took her hand. I couldn't hide my nervousness. I said, "Mom..." but had no words to finish the sentence.

She said, "It's okay sweetheart." My heart pounded as I sat by her on the bed. On impulse or nervous embarrassment, I rested my head on her chest. She put her hand on my face and said, "I love you, and you love me, and that's all that matters...this is just another way we're going to say it."

I relaxed and kissed her neck and then the top of her breasts. She opened the cover-up and my lips rested on the bare skin above her bra. I inhaled the fragrance of her breasts as I kissed them, not sure where to touch or what to do. Mom reached back, unhooked and took off her bra. That was when the reality of it all hit me. I was about to have sex with my mother.

She said, "Let's get you out of those clothes," and together we got me down to my briefs. There was no hiding the bulge. Mom smiled and put her hand over it and said, "I don't know why, but I guess you really do feel that way about me."

I said, "I do mom." Her hand on me coated my body with a shiver of electricity, and I said, "OH...mom."

I kissed her neck and she said, "I want you to know that while I was thinking about this today, it made me feel good that you want me. It's something I haven't felt in a while."