Son and his mom make some lasting memories…
“Just one more? Pleaaaase?”
Arms folded, Helen Cleaver attempted to resist the puppy-dog-eye routine in front of her, but as had been the norm for 18 years, she couldn’t help but acquiesce.
“Ok… but this is really the last one,” she sighed, fishing in her handbag and pulling out a crisp note.
Now flashing his gorgeous smile, Jason grabbed the cash before bending down to quickly peck Helen on the cheek, “Thanks, mom! You’re the best!”
As she watched her son run off to the ticket counter, Helen smiled, her fingers savoring the evanescent warmth on her cheek. When he disappeared into the crowd, a deep ache grew in her chest as she realized her baby boy would disappear from her life within the month. Even her husband, who had both reassured her with the promise of frequent campus visits and admonished her for being overbearing, had to admit that Stanford was over 2000 miles west of home. Resigned to her fate, Helen threw back the remainder of her glass, the Cabernet Sauvignon slightly dulling her pain.
“Looks like you need another glass.”
Helen turned around to find Julie Eldridge with two glasses of wine. She handed her a glass, smiling sympathetically.
“Thanks, Julie.”
“Don’t mention it. These neighborhood graduation parties may be a blast for the men, but they’re always hard on us moms.”
Helen lightly smacked herself on the head, “Ooops! I forgot Kyle was graduating this year too. Sorry and congratulations, I guess.”
“It’s okay. Thanks. I can understand why you’re preoccupied. Only another mom can understand what it’s like to lose our strong, handsome babies.”
Helen gestured her frustration, “I know! Paul almost seems overjoyed to have Jason out of the house.”
Julie giggled knowingly, “Between us, it’s natural for old men to feel threatened by young studs. Especially these days — I heard on the news that this new generation has higher testosterone levels or something.”
Although she was unfamiliar with the study, Helen wasn’t particularly surprised given the data in her own home: the muscle-bound teen towered over her flabby, slightly effeminate spouse.
“Mom! Let’s go!”
Kyle, Julie’s son, waved his arms across the crowd, gesturing for her to leave. Beaming, the matron waved back excitedly.
“I have to go. Give my congrats to Jason, though I’m sorry you’re losing him.” With a mischievous smile, she added, “Make sure you really take advantage of him for this last month.”
“Thanks!” Helen yelled as she watched Julie run to her son. As she sipped her wine and watched the somewhat less-than-filial embrace between the two, she began wondering what exactly Julie had meant. Amongst the bridge club, there certainly had been rumors about a possible affair responsible for Julie’s stormy marriage, but there had never been any specifics. Helen, however, had always maintained a distant suspicion that the mystery lothario had been the boy who Julie was currently wrapped around.
After all, she was not entirely innocent regarding the taboo in question. Years earlier, when Jason suffered the pangs of puberty with no support from his prude of a father, Helen had tutored the youth at his behest. An experienced lover who had been with her fair share of partners, Helen had capably been the theoretical and practical foundation for Jason’s tremendous successes with girls; she had been the training course for his first date, his first dance, and even his first kiss. Energized by his romantic triumphs, the boy had further goaded her into delivering lessons on basic male and female anatomy, cunnilingus, and other things women liked in bed. Despite the well-meaning housewife’s attempts to draw inviolable boundaries, her inability to say no (and, on some deep level, her pleasure in his wide-eyed attention) to the apple of her eye saw their relationship grow more and more dangerous. It took a teary-eyed confession of his newfound oedipal love that finally led Helen to put a firm stop to their lessons. Fortunately, the friction between them was not longstanding; with a horde of girls throwing themselves at him, the boy soon found ample distraction, and Helen, although jealous, dismissed his short-lived proclivities as a growing pain.
While the ensuing years saw the blossoming of a beautiful filial relationship and even an amicable friendship between the two, Helen’s feelings for the boy remained complicated. The gods saw fit to sculpt a human David out of the teen as the years progressed; combined with her husband’s neglect, the image of Jason in boxers had provided the housewife with innumerable intense, guilty climaxes. Worse, according to bridge club rumors, the very romantic successes that she had helped the boy attain had apparently forged a sexual virtuoso of legendary endowment, stamina, and technique. She was not surprised to discover that the boy had many devotees from his high school: Helen had opened the front door countless times to find nervous teenage girls who sought her son’s attention. Last week, however, she had been stunned to learn that many of his conquests had been older women — mothers and aunts of his unsuspecting friends and neighbors. She wondered if he retained any of his desire for her.
For the next hour, lost in her thoughts, Helen roamed the party, downing glass after glass, and faking enthusiasm at pleasantries. As her boredom and inebriation grew, so did her libido, especially with the salacious thoughts pervading her mind. Eventually, desperately horny, she made her way to her husband, who had previously abandoned her for his drinking friends. She embraced him, whispering into his ear.
“H-hi honey. How’re youuu doing? I loooove you… please take me home and fuck me.”
Paul pushed her away, “Goddamnit Helen, you’re drunk. Don’t embarrass me like this.”
Grabbing her by the wrist, he dragged her through the party until he found his son.
“Take your mother home. She’s not feeling well.”
Jason took her arm and gently placed it around his shoulder, “Oh no! Are you ok mom?”
“Noo sweetheart — I’m nnot. I don’t *hic* want you to leave me.”
Quietly, Helen added, laughing, “Alssso your mommy’s hornny. She needs to get FUCKED.”
The teen’s eyes shot open at his mother’s candor and thanked the heavens that nobody else had heard.
Paul fished in his pocket for a couple of bills and shoved them into Jason’s hand, “Take her home, but stop by the pharmacy for some of those hangover pills. Put her to bed — I’ll be home after the party ends and take it from there.”
As they began the short trek to the car, Jason reassured his mother, “Sorry dad was such an asshole. I’m gonna take you home, ok mom?”
She kissed him on the cheek, “Okkkaaay. Yyou’re suuuch a goooood boy.”
At the car, Jason opened the passenger door for his mother and tried to usher her in. Completely unstable, Helen tumbled forward, her head stopping just shy of the car door thanks to Jason’s quick hands.
Noticing that his right hand was firmly grasping her breast, the teen quickly pulled back, “Wow, uh sorry.”
Too groggy to know better, Helen smiled wolfishly, “Oh cooome on *hic* it’s not like youu haven’t seen and touched theeese before.”
Jason fondly remembered their short tryst, but quickly snapped out of his thoughts when he saw a car drive by. He helped the buzzed housewife in the car and reached over her to buckle her in.
As he pulled back, his mother gently cupped his face, turning it towards her. He studied the lovely visage before him, complete with high-set, flushed cheekbones; short, curly brown hair; full, lipstick-covered lips; dainty, button-shaped nose; and almond-shaped eyes of turquoise, now weeping translucent tears. Her long nails gently combed through hair much like her own.
Pages:
[