John and his mom turned from the door after saying good-bye to the ladies. Even though both had managed sexual gratification, each remained needy, wanting, unfulfilled. Each wanted the other to make the first move, unsure that their sexual desires were reciprocated. Yes, John had noted the look in his mother's eyes when he had kissed her that morning. Yes, his mother had noticed the bulge in his pants on more than one occasion, but was unsure if it was for her or for that prissy Phoebe. Something had definitely changed; however, each was now freely admitting to themselves that they wanted the other. Each was examining the possibility of taking the love they had for the other to another level and finding that possibility acceptable. However, how was the question? Neither wanted to destroy what they already had. Each feared that the other would consider them a pervert if they even suggested the possibility to the other. So unconsciously, both began to give hints, with body language, that they wanted the other. The age-old art of seduction had begun.
They went back to the kitchen to clean up. John made sure that each time his mom brought dishes to the sink they touched. Sometimes it would just be a hand, other times their hips would rub together as they worked side by side. She would accidentally brush a breast against his arm as she turned beside him to put away a dish. He moved around her accidentally brushing his pelvis against her derrière as he moved by her. This "accidental" dance continued each moving freely into each other personal space as more and more body parts came in contact for longer and longer periods of time. Gentle smiles of love passed between them almost coy in nature, wanting to attract yet fearful of the consequences. They were so unlike the usual relaxed loving smiles, which had flashed between them all his life. Now uncertain, yet searching, inquiring smiles, tentative, hesitant, beseeching smiles, that brought the growing lust between them to new heights as their newfound playfulness manifested itself.
He suddenly splashed her with water from the running tap wetting the top of her dress and face. She retaliated with giggles and laughter, scooping her hands beneath the water and flinging it at him, and then turned to run not waiting for his watery reply. He reached out to grab an arm, but this time truly accidentally garbed the sleeve of her dress instead. Her forward momentum tore it from her shoulder. Buttons rained on the kitchen floor as the shoulder of the dress slid down her arm pulled apart at the front. It totally exposed one bra covered breast as the sleeve gave way leaving a piece of fabric in his hand. She turned to find part of her dress dangling from his hand, her chest heaving, partly from exertion, but partly from the passion that had coursed through her body all day. She made no move to cover up.
"Mother, I'm so sorry," he exclaimed, "I meant to grab you by the arm so I could splash you again, but inadvertently caught your sleeve. He tentatively held it out, and then laughed ruefully realizing it was no longer of any use. He dropped it on the kitchen counter never taking his eyes off the beautiful lacy bra that heaved up and down in front of him with each breath she took. It was a beautiful bra, designed to show off rather than conceal. Through the lace her could see her dark areola crowned by a very aroused and swollen nipple, was it for him he thought, or was it simply the cold of its exposure. She saw the concern on his face and laughed it away.
"It's okay son, its just a dress, but I'll have to find something else to wear." Not revealing it had been one of her favorites realizing she had worn it to entice.
"Come upstairs mother, I'll find you something to put on." She knew she still had lots to wear even though it had been a hard day on her wardrobe, but followed her son, after he had turned off the water, not sure what she had in mind. When they got to his bedroom, he rifled through his closet and pulled a sweater out. "Here, try this on," he said. She noticed the strange scent fill the air as with sudden impulse she thought of a subterfuge that would suffice. With artful deception, she pretended that he meant her to wear the sweater not over her torn dress but as a piece of clothing on its own. She turned sideways to him as if to conceal her body from him but in reality to present a profile of breast and naked buttock. The scent of the old house grew stronger as she slipped the dress from her shoulders and slid it down over her flaring hips to fall crumpled to the floor. For the first time he saw his mother almost naked, wearing the lacy bra and the tiny thong. He was rock hard as he hesitantly moved towards her entering her personal space, now not caring that his cock signaled his intent. She turned into him one hand coming up to stroke his cheek her eyes looking deeply into his as though searching for her absolution within his. Her mouth upturned, red, inviting, her lips slightly parted, shiny where she had licked them. Their lips touched lightly, feather like, almost like a mother son kiss, then it became a man woman kiss, full of tongue and saliva, heat and passion, lips bruising against teeth. Their bodies shivered with lust. Her arms over his shoulders one going down his back the other around his head her hand in his hair using the leverage it gave her to rub her bra covered tits against his chest and mash her mouth against his, frantically sucking on his tongue. His hands running over her body bringing heat wherever they touched.
He gripped her ass, pulling her buttocks hard apart in his urgency to pick her up. She brought her legs up trying to grip him, but before she could, he whirled, throwing her onto the bed. He pulled the shirt he was wearing over his head and tossed it somewhere. He fumbled at the clip that held his pants together and when it did not separated immediately yanked it apart destroying the zipper at the same time. The pants were gone. He actually had to struggle for a moment to get the waistband of his underwear over his rampant cock. He stumbled towards the bed his ankles still entangled in his shorts. With one final kick they shot across the room. Then he stood before her. Her son naked as the day he was born, with one exception, a big fat hard cock, red and engorged with desire, want , need. Roughly, he reached between her tender thighs and yanked at the crotch of her thong tearing the thong where the string that ran through her ass met the crotch. Its wetness slapped her abdomen as he flipped it up exposing how wet she was. Her hairy lips oozed her preparedness onto the bed. They were also red and engorged succulent in their need. He didn't even bother with her bra, just simply shoved it up around her neck. He grabbed her by her tits and kneaded them for a moment as he positioned himself for her ravishment. Her tits sent wonderful messages to her twat as she reached for his dick.