Chapter Seven: The Storm
What was I doing!!!
Was I crazy!!!!
We were definitely playing with fire!!!
Okay, so there's nothing wrong with letting him rub my feet. But why, as he was running his hands up and down my legs, was I disappointed that the other "sensations" I'd come to enjoy and look forward to, then never start. I did grow damp, my pussy did get juicy, as his hands and fingers ever so slowly moved up to my knees last night, and as I wondered if he ...or I ...would stop.
And I was delightfully surprised when he impetuously pulled me into his lap, and let me feel his strong penis against my hip and bottom, reveling in the confirmation that there WAS a passion between us. And I surprised myself when we first kissed, almost by accident, like very timid lovers.
But the second kiss, no matter how enjoyable, was stepping way out of bounds. If he only knew, it would have been far more than just the "sensations" I later felt that night, all night long....
After the first three climaxes, I lost track of how many times I woke up with the tingling in my muff growing, as "he" kissed my breasts and suckled my nipples, and sipped the juice at the entrance to my vagina, and probed my anus....until....
And yet, as pleasurable and exhausting as the "experiences" were.... I was really beginning to want more... of him....
I must be going crazy!!! He's never done anything to suggest he might "want" me. The complete gentleman, in the past few years he's never touched me in a sexual way, even if the massages seem to me to be extremely sensual, and the "events" often (now always) include him as the ...perpetrator? provocateur? initiator? willing participant???? rapist?????. He's never said anything to even suggest he harbors any illicit thoughts about me. And he always has the opportunity to "select" amoung all those young woman to "do stuff" with. Where did I ever get the thought he might want to have sex with his "mother?" I'm too old and way out of his league. And besides, if the "phenomenons" were any indication, blushing at the thought, my sturdy foundling son would wear me out the first night, and I'd be sore for a week.
A couple of evenings later, after dinner, as I cleaned up, he came up and began rubbing my shoulders while I stood at the sink. He seemed pensive, and after thanking me for another "wonderful" meal grew quiet and continued to gently, easily, run his hands around my neck and shoulders ...and arms... His hands moved down around my ribs and lower back, skipping over my bra strap, gently rotating his thumbs and fingers along my spine and hips, he asked the question I'd sort of been dreading.
"Mom,"...he hesitantly started..."what did you mean when you said I was 'turning into a very dangerous young man'?"
I hesitated a moment, as if to recall the comment, though I knew exactly what he meant, and what I'd meant. "Well," I started, "let's just say ... you have awesome hands, and know just what pleases ....a girl... er, uh, muscles to work... or ...you know....massage... and you're very gentle....maybe even a little.... oh, I don't know,...your touch... it's a little intoxicating when you rub my shoulders...and the other night...when you massaged my feet,.... you made me feel ...really special.... which made me feel like I'd do almost anything ...you wanted....and if you treat your girl friends that way...well...it could make you pretty dangerous."
"In what way" he probed.
I had almost run out of dishes. Yet, I couldn't quite turn to face him yet. As I reached for one of the last pots, I couldn't stop myself from leaning ... to touch my bottom against him... or his reaction...the tightening of his fingers on my shoulders...the pause as we both felt the all too brief tryst of his hard cock, touching, nestling into the divide between the cheeks of my bottom.
I blushed and felt my nipples popping ... and hurried on with "oh, I don't know....maybe talk them into something they might not do otherwise...." I took a deep breathe, and reached for the last dish, this time "careful" not to lean over "too" much.
"Sweetheart, you have to understand...." as I continued to wash the now well cleaned dish in my hands..."you're a very special guy, and when the right girl comes along...you both may ... I don't know....this is a little embarrassing...get too involved ...I expect you'll sweep her off her feet, maybe a little too quickly... and it means ...getting that involved...to a girl... sometimes it means more to her than it might mean to you..."
As the water drained from the sink, and I dried my hands, and slowly turned to face him, regretting the end of his touch as he released me and slid back a bit, I finished with, "so,... my Handsome son,...I guess what I mean is... be careful... be gentle...and try to remember ...you might be able to get whatever you want..." now almost strong...trying to look him in the eye... "but remember that the other person...girl...that you....might get ...involved with... is important too...but might get led astray by your... dangerous charms...and may need .... you to be the gentleman we don't see around too often anymore. One who cares. One who tries to understand and satisfies the woman's needs."
Was I on safe ground yet? "Understand?"
"Yeah, I guess," he said, though he still looked a little perplexed. "Although, I can't be all that dangerous, if my recent dating history is anything to go by" he said, a little dejectedly.
And the maternal instinct reacted with the comment, "remember, patience...it will come.." as my now thoroughly "incestuous" mind thought again about sucking his young strong virgin cock to relieve his immediate pain, while preparing for ....
I leaned forward and quickly kissed him on the cheek, I guess to reestablish some degree of propriety, and said, "now go get ready for your date. It's Friday night, and you're young, and need to be out and about."
"What about you?" he rejoined with a little humor.
"Me? Well your tired old mom is going to luxuriate in a hot bath, get ready for bed, and be content with a good book...now off with you."
Later, with the house to myself, I did just that. A hot bath ...and a cold shower...
But it didn't work.
Nor did the book.
And then the summer storm rolled in, fierce with thunder and lightening.
And before I knew it, I was rummaging around looking for candles to offset the dark, because the power was out.
And then, a while later, to my relief, I heard him drive up and run to the door.
"You're soaked" I observed...the obvious, meeting him with a candelabra in my hand, wondering in passing how I might appear, meeting him this way,in my nightgown on a stormy night, with a candle in my hand.
