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“Just us tonight then. What do you want to do?” Mom asks, turning to look at me.
You, I think wistfully. “Have a drink and watch a movie?”
She frowns for a moment, then nods as some sort of realization comes over her. “I often forget you’re old enough to drink now,” she admits with a chuckle. “I think your dad has some beers in the fridge. I’m sure he won’t mind, seeing as he bailed on us tonight.”
Mom is clearly trying to downplay her disappointment at not getting the family night she was hoping for, and though I’m still exhausted from traveling several hundred miles in just two days, I’m going to make sure she has a nice evening.
“I’ll clean up. Why don’t you grab the dessert and drinks from the fridge, and then you can go pick something for us to watch if you want?” she suggests as she gets to her feet.
“No, Mom. It’s fine, I’ll clear up. You can get the movie ready.” I tell her, gesturing at the remnants of dinner and dirty dishes on the table.
Mom puts her hand on my head and ruffles my hair and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, sweetie. You’re still such a good boy.”
Innocuous as her touch is, it awakens another dangerous trail of thoughts, me on my knees between her thighs, worshiping her with my mouth while her fingers tangle in my hair. My cock twitches in my pants and I’m once again as hard as a rock.
While she gets everything together, ready for us to have a nice relaxing evening, I stack the bowls and plates on the table without getting up. I don’t want her to see how hard I am and wonder why. Once she’s left the room, I take a deep breath and stand up. I try to calm myself and use the time spent clearing up to get my dick under control before I face her again.
It’s my first night home, and I wasn’t expecting such a vicious onslaught of need and desire overtaking me like they have. I’m beginning to think that staying away for so long has had the opposite effect to what I was semi-hoping it would have. Instead, it seems to have made things a thousand times worse.
Chapter Eight
Edward
Having regained some semblance of self-control over my body, I finally venture into the living room. Mom has turned the television on to the home screen, uncapped my beer, poured herself a glass of wine, and is sitting on the couch with her legs curled beneath her and the glass of wine cradled in her hand.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to watch, but we’re subscribed to a few different streaming apps, so I figured we could scroll through and pick something out together,” she says, holding out the remote to me.
I’m not really sure what to pick, but we’d always enjoyed watching horror movies together. Dad never really cared for the horror genre, so it was our usual go-to choice whenever he had to work late or was away on business. Picking an old favorite of ours, I settle back on the couch with my beer and slowly sip on it as the opening credits roll and the haunting tune kicks in.
While the movie plays, Mom leans forward and sets her glass down. Picking up the sealed box from our local bakery, she holds it out to me with a smile.
“I picked out some of our favorite donuts. They were freshly baked this morning. I didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for, so I chose a few different ones for you.”
Taking it from her, I lift the lid and peer inside. An assortment of fresh cream donuts is sitting inside, taunting me with all the delicious flavors. Spoiled for choice, my hand hovers over each one before I select a simple, cream-filled donut coated in powdered sugar. I pass the box over to my mom who immediately goes for her favorite—chocolate eclair.
She sets the box back down on the table and leans back on the couch. I watch as she takes a bite and laughs as a small blob of cream pops out from the end and coats her fingers. The laugh catches in my throat when she mock-glares at me for a second, then licks it off. My brain kicks into overdrive at the sight of her small tongue darting out to clean cream off her fingers, and I have to look away as she finishes her donut.
Sweet Jesus, I’m going to hell for sure, I think helplessly as I finish my own donut, trying not to choke on the sweet dough with how dry my mouth has suddenly gotten. I barely see the rest of the movie, even though I keep my gaze fixed on the screen. The beer in my hand tastes even more bitter as the minutes slowly tick by.
When the end credits finally roll, I glance over at Mom, who I see has fallen asleep. Her chest rises and falls softly with her breathing, and I can’t help but notice how much younger and more peaceful she looks right now. With a shaking hand I brush a few strands of hair from her cheek, tucking them behind her ear.
It’s easier to be around her when she’s sleeping. I don’t have to hide how much I love her, because she’s not awake to see and suspect that my feelings run deeper than they should. Sliding my hands beneath her—I have to make a conscious effort not to seek out bare skin—I lift her into my arms in a bridal carry and take her upstairs to her room.
I gently set her down on her bed, and as I go to the window to shut the blinds, she mumbles my name. I turn to look at her, thinking she might have woken up, but her eyes are still closed. She rolls onto her side. The vest she’s wearing catches beneath her, exposing her bra and the full curve of her breast.
I edge closer to her, and before I can stop myself, I’m tracing the outline of her breast with my fingertip. Marveling at how soft her skin is, I swallow hard as I more firmly stroke her over the top of her bra. The nipple tightens, poking through the lacy material, practically begging for my attention.
I glance furtively up at Mom’s face, and seeing that she’s still deeply asleep, I quickly shut the blinds and quietly push the bedroom door until it’s almost closed, but so I can hear if we get some unintended company. I shouldn’t be doing this. She could wake up, or Dad could walk in at any moment, but I’m unlikely to get another opportunity like this.
Stripping down to my boxers, I do what I’ve only ever done as a child. I climb into bed with Mom. The difference between then and now is that I’m now a fully grown man with adult needs and desires, and I want my mom in ways I never did when I was a young and naive kid.
Chapter Nine
Edward
Reaching out, I run my hand down Mom’s arm and back up again. The strap of her vest catches on my fingers, and I wish I could take it off. She shifts in her sleep, rolling onto her back again, and I bite my lip for a second before deciding to try and undress her. She’ll be more comfortable out of her clothes—and more accessible to me.
I’m beyond the point of return at this point. From the moment I climbed into bed with her tonight, I knew there was going to be no turning back. Carefully, I pull the straps of her vest down her arms until they’re off, and then I slide it down her middle to her hips. Bunching up the material, I grab that and the top of her pants and slowly ease them down her legs before tossing them onto the floor.
