I turned restlessly in my bed. Sleep not coming to find me. It had been this way for more weeks than I could remember. What had dawned some time ago as an idle thought, had flowered into something else. Something all pervasive. It occupied my every waking moment. I was in love, intensely and irrevocably in love with the only woman in my life.
I don’t know when the change had occurred. There was no incident in my past that had ignited the spark. No gesture on her part, intentional or otherwise, that had stoked that ember. Nor had it been a conscious choice to see her that way. On the contrary, my mother and I had shared a normal relationship. She was a caring, tender person. We had always been very close and touch had always been her unspoken way of communicating that bond.
Somewhere along the way my mind had transformed these gentle, nurturing touches into intimate caresses; tender hugs into a lover’s embrace. The gentle touch of her finger tips would light a fire under my skin that would send current coursing through my body and it would be all that I could do to subdue the shudders that would certainly follow. Sometimes I had not been successful in that objective and I wondered whether she was starting to see the effect that she was having on me.
Once again, I resigned myself to sleeplessness and rolled out of bed. I walked to the living room and turned the TV on quietly to while away a few more hours before light arrived to continue the interminable parade of days. I settled on a 1940’s black and white movie that I did not know and sat there watching it, without following the plot. My mind was elsewhere.
From behind me I heard a door open then close and my mother appeared in a diaphanous silk nightie. Not anything overly provocative; my mother wasn’t like that. Instead the knee length, deep blue shimmering ensemble which lacked the lace or trimming that would mark it for any purpose other than sleep, was worn for comfort. Mum said that she liked nice things and she preferred to sleep in silk or satin.
Of course the sight of the soft material clinging to her every curve did nothing to help my condition. She was an exquisitely beautiful woman. Her long chestnut hair had lost some of the luster of youth, but that and the odd crow’s peak beginning to show at the corners of her eyes were the only signs that betrayed her 39 years.
The intermittent bursts of light from the TV momentarily illuminated her in the dark room bringing into relief her lithe, athletic figure. The silk cascaded of her slender hips, tracing the long path down her toned legs. The fabric drew the eye to her soft and full breasts. I directed my gaze down to the couch to avoid betraying my thoughts.
“Is something on your mind” she asked softly, “you have been coming to the living room after midnight each night for the past month and I am starting to get worried”.
“I just can’t seem to sleep” I replied.
“Can I sit with you?” she asked noting that I had not looked back up at her.
“Sure, but everything’s fine. You should try to get some rest,” I offered a little robotically.
She ignored me and slid in beside me on the soft leather couch and placed her head against my shoulder. Her hand moved up to caress my T-shirt clad chest. The involuntary shudder came. Her hand paused momentarily and then continued slowly, almost unsurely. “Are you sure that everything is ok? You’ve been a little preoccupied of late,” she observed with concern. “Is it a girl problem?”
“No, I just can’t sleep,” I lied. “You should get some sleep so that you aren’t a zombie at work tomorrow.”
“Wow, how out of it are you? Tomorrow is Saturday” She chided me. “If you aren’t going back to bed I will lie here with you”.
With that said she pulled her legs up onto the three-seater and rested her head in my lap as she watched the TV. I rested my hand on the bare skin of her shoulder and gently caressed her. While she watched the tube I took in her beautiful form. The silk gown clung to her narrow waste and fluted over the curve of her hip to where it was pulled tight around her shapely bottom. The gown had bunched up just above her knees with her slender but toned carves revealed by the light of the TV.
Her head moved in my lap as she tried to get comfortable and her warm hand rested on my bare knee. I became aware suddenly that my body was beginning to respond to her presence and her touch. My condition wasn’t aided by the light warm breath that was caressing my left thigh as she intently watched the TV. I grew rapidly, pressing firmly against the satin of my boxer shorts as I anxiously tried to will my tumescence to abate.
To my horror, the head of my growing erection poked through the fly of my boxers and rested against the soft hair of my mother’s head. I tried desperately to work out a way to pack myself away without bringing my situation to my mother’s attention. With no answer forthcoming I sat there with the lured scene of my exposed cock lightly resting against my mother. I tried to shift a little to give me the room that I needed to cram my aching hard on back into my shorts. As I did, Mum moved slightly to assist and her head pressed more firmly into my cock. She stopped moving instantly and she turned around to find herself face to face with my manhood.
My mother’s presence had willed my cock to its full thick 7 inches and it throbbed with the beat of my heart, which was currently running like a freight train. I shrank somewhere into myself under her gaze and suddenly wished that I could crawl away somewhere and die. She didn’t say anything for the longest time, but sat there mere inches away from dick and stared at it in apparent shock.
“Did I do this, Jason?” She asked shakily.
“I’m so sorry Mum,” I barely croaked in response, my voice course like sandpaper.
Her gaze left my penis and locked onto my eyes as she said softly, almost imperceptibly, “you didn’t answer my question”.
I couldn’t answer her. My lips didn’t work. I was paralyzed with fear, fear of hurting her, fear of damaging the most precious relationship that I held, fear of laying bear the shameful truth that I was madly and deeply in love with my mother.
“How long have you felt this way?” She asked knowingly, her gaze softening to show her concern.
Still I couldn’t move or speak. I was transfixed by the surrealness of the situation. My mother was looking at me from over my exposed and very erect penis, asking me how long I had lusted after her.
Neither of us had thought to put my penis away adding to the lured spectacle. The thought of my mother touching my bare penis as she put it away came unbidden to my mind and my penis throbbed in anticipation. My mother’s gaze returned to my erection and stayed there.
Not removing her gaze from my member she volunteered, “I have seen you staring at me when you thought I wasn’t looking. I have sensed the effect that I have had on you lately. How long have you felt this way about me?”
I tried desperately to think of a lie that would shield me from her question. I could think of nothing plausible. All of the tension, all of the anxiety, all of the unrequited yearning for her reached a crescendo in that moment and I forced out, “I don’t know”. There it was, I was exposed both literally and figuratively. She looked up into my eyes slowly and held my gaze with her piercingly beautiful gaze.
“What is it that you think you feel for me?” She enquired quietly.
“I’m in love with you,” I admitted timidly looking away from that stare.
She reached up and drew my chin around so that I looked her in the eyes again and asked, “are you sure you really love me like that? It is a normal phase that many young men go through.”
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