Random smut stories with plot

by Jokiba

Smut of all kinds with good plot too

39. The Weirdness of a Mother's Love

Samantha's New Life: The Weirdness of a Mother's Love

GroundRDP

Summary:

Six months ago, Samantha divorced her husband for way too many reasons to list here and now. Now single and responsible for her teenage son, she decides to embark on a new life elsewhere, waving goodbye to the recent memories of old city life. The beach house in the coastal town where she used to spend summers with her parents and sister is their new destination.

But things there are not how they used to be when Samantha was young, though. The dynamics have changed a bit this time. Now, Samantha is the mother shouldering it all, and her son is the blossoming teenager discovering his own identity. What she is unaware of is just how much her life is about to undergo transformation in the coming months, and we're talking way more than she bargained for.

Notes:

Hello everyone and welcome to Samantha's New Life!

First off, I'd like to state that this is a fictional piece, and I want to make it clear that I don't approve of the behavior depicted in this story.

This is also my debut on AO3, and my first attempt at writing something in English ever as well, which isn't my first or even second language. So, if you come across errors or if something feels off, now you know why, and please feel free to let me know so I can make improvements.

Oh, and fair warning: this is going to be a long slow-burn story. Don't expect a rushed plot or rapid-fire sexual encounters. There will be sex, of course, lots of it, but not in the first chapters, and there will be some with no sexual interaction at all.

I think that's pretty much all. I plan to update twice every month, even once a week if I have the time to do it.

I hope you all enjoy this new adventure!

Chapter 1: A New Beginning

Chapter Text

"Where's your suitcase, mister?"

I catch a glimpse of him from the kitchen, seated on the living room couch, too focused on his phone. He must be watching video after video in TikTok again, I suppose.

The humid heat today is unforgiving, a common trait of September in this town.

He's got on a white T-shirt from last year and some shorts. His growth spurt in the past few months made his T-shirt seem a bit small on him now, even though he's still an inch or two shorter than me. His brown hair is a bit messy since he hasn't had a haircut in a few weeks, and his eye color is somewhere between gray and blue – just like mine. And I can't stop thinking he's simply beautiful.

He's actually more handsome than his dad was in his youth, and I can't deny the fact that John was a good-looking man back then. I suppose it's because Jason takes after me a bit more than his father. For the love of God, I think my son is now even more good-looking than I am!

It's been half a year since I split up with my husband. But you know, even though John isn't technically my husband anymore, I still refer to him as 'my husband' or 'Jason's dad'. I can't stand saying 'my ex-husband'. It just feels distant and weird, and people talking about their exes that way bothers me too. I mean, sure, John's a jerk, but why should I talk about him like that?

"Jason, honey, where's your suitcase?" I repeat to my son, aiming toward the door.

But him being an asshole wasn't the only reason why I divorced John. At least, not entirely. It was because he had an affair with his twenty-something-year-old secretary and got her pregnant. That didn't make me angry, nor upset, because I knew he was seeing someone. A woman always knows. But I was actually very happy when he did that and it was some kind of relief for me. Now I had an excuse to send him away without looking like a terrible mom to Jason.

Thinking back, it's been years since I believed I loved John. But looking at it now, I realize it was just a story I told myself, and the remaining affection I had for him is almost gone now.

Dead.

These days, every now and then, when I reflect on the time I first met John, I get this feeling that I might have taken advantage of him. I had this desire to settle down, get a nice home – you know, the usual stuff everyone wants. I guess I was sick of being young and carefree, but deep down, what I truly longed for when I was approaching my thirties was to become a mother. I was twenty-six when I crossed paths with John, and by the time I turned twenty-nine, I welcomed my son into the world. That moment remains one of the most precious memories of my life. Actually, the very best.

It's curious how many of those great moments stored in my mind involve Jason.

The last years with my husband were tough for both of us. John and I never really went on dates, and we rarely talked to each other, except for those times when we had to talk about something important. More often than not, we found ourselves in arguments. He wasn't an alcoholic, never turned violent, and never hurled insults at me. We simply weren't happy – that was the essence of our relationship. As crude as that.

There were moments when divorce came up in our discussions, but he constantly suggested that we wait until our son was older if we were truly set on going down that path.

Well, Jason just celebrated his fourteenth birthday a couple of weeks ago, and probably it doesn't matter anymore if he's ready or not. The truth is, his dad and I are now officially divorced, and I guess this situation has kind of forced him to grow up just enough.

"I left it on my new bed, Mom!" Jason says.

Jason always does exactly as I tell him. He's like that with me, always displaying the expected behavior. That's how I raised him, and that's how I like him to be.

But he's not just the obedient son. Jason is a very smart young man too, of course. He always gets the best grades and he stands out as a brilliant student. He can be a little shy and quiet, but once you get to know him, he's really nice and fun with the closer people to him. A kind boy, lovely and friendly with everyone, and I'd say he's the person that makes me laugh the most!

The good boy prototype.

I'm aware that he's already fourteen, transitioning into young adulthood, but I can't help feeling that he's still my little kid deep inside my heart. I suppose all mothers experience this sentiment about their sons eventually. I don't care how tall he gets, or if he ends up sprouting a beard, the thing is he will always be my little son. However, this feeling doesn't blind me to the fact that he's progressing towards becoming a man. I mean, not exactly a grown-up already, but he's definitely a man in the making.

His face holds a certain beauty that's characteristic of teenage guys. His lips are wonderfully shaped and sort of plump, a trait he inherited from me, but his nose is a feature he got from his father.

And oh dear Lord, I have to admit he's got a good body, no doubt about it, even if he's got some more growing to do. Jason probably falls within the average height range for his age, maybe between 5'7" and 5'8"; he's skinny, but he's also got a toned and fit build from soccer. His arms and legs are trim, and there's a certain masculine quality about his extremities, though they're hairless and smooth, which makes touching his skin an absolute pleasure.

Maybe I shouldn't even think about this, but what I like the most about his body is his cute, round, squashy, little butt. There are moments when I even catch myself stealing glances at it, much to my own surprise. His time on the school soccer team last year began shaping this attribute, and since then, his body has taken on a somewhat athletic form. Naturally, his interest in sports is pretty normal considering his age, but what catches my attention is that my son seems to find much more joy in using his free time to play video games with his friends.

I guess that would be all if these thoughts were coming from a normal mother.

But I am not a normal mother.

Lately, there's been something on my mind. This feeling began to nag me even before I discovered my husband's affair, I think it's been going on for over a year now. It all traces back to when Jason experienced this... Quite impressive growth spurt I'm referring to, during which he became a little bit taller and manlier than he was before.

I'm referring to the fact that... Well, I'm beginning to come to terms with the idea that, recently, when I look at him... Oh God, this is harder than I thought in the first place. The only fact that I'm admitting this to myself makes me sick. But the mere thought of it also stirs something inside me...a certain desire.

The simple admission inside my own mind should be making me feel guilty, I know. I should know this is... Oh, fuck! Stop it, Sam!

These thoughts should never even cross my mind! These kind of feelings for my own son... I suppose many mothers do experience similar feelings about their sons from time to time, don't they? It's only natural to view your handsome son as a sexual being when his shoulders get broader, when his hands get a little manlier... It's a thought that crosses your mind, right? Even though it might seem a bit early for me to be thinking in that way considering his age.

Oh, God, his age! He's fourteen for God's sake!

I should never forget his age.

Not that I usually do, no, but I have to remind myself of his age sometimes. And I'm just saying I still want to keep hugging and kissing him in a tender, motherly way, of course. Nothing else, right? I don't care if he's fourteen, thirty, or one thousand years old, I just want to keep loving my boy in the most maternal way there is. I guess that's not too bad, is it?

I wish I could make him understand how much he means to me. I think that would help me overcome these feelings.

However, this has been happening on my mind for more than a year and it hasn't changed a bit after all that time. If anything, it's been becoming more and more… intense.

Damn it!

Why doesn't it stop?

I'm sure I won't stop feeling this way for him, at least for the time being. It's just not in my nature. I can't deny who I am, and I have to admit I've always been a very sexual woman.

Yeah, that's right. I love sex.

I loved to have sex with my husband, even when we didn't have feelings for each other anymore. I loved it when I was young and I love it now that I am a single mother. I slept with so many men before I married John, and now... Well, a few weeks ago, I bought a toy, and I have no shame in using it whenever I get the chance.

"So, Mom, you said this is the house where you guys stayed during vacation when you and Aunt Lauren were young? With Grandma and Grandpa? I don't remember being here," my son walks into the kitchen, interrupting my thoughts with his sweet voice.

Jason's voice is something I truly adore. It carries this gentle and charming tone, although it can be a bit difficult to catch at times due to his shyness in certain situations. Yet, when he's at ease, his voice transforms into something truly sweet and melodious, and surprisingly, it can even take on a rather manly quality.

And that's right, this house belongs to my parents. The structure retains its grandeur and upkeep remarkably well over the years. It boasts two floors and maintains a rustic interior decor, a charming contrast to its seaside location. There are lots of plants and trees everywhere around here, including a few palm trees in front of the house, with a garage attached to it, and a big porch too, with a few chairs and a table.

"Yeah," I answer. "I'd be surprised if you did, you were only months old the last time you were here. But... Hey! What do you mean by 'young'? You don't think I'm young anymore?"

"Well..." Jason says hesitantly "I just meant that you're not that young anymore. You're thirty-five, aren't you?" he says almost laughing.

I do wish I was thirty-five, but Jason, well, he's just like that, always making jokes about everything and not really taking life too seriously. I suppose it's normal since he's just a teenager, but I'd say it's all part of his personality.

"Oh, so you took eight years away from me… I like that!" I say chuckling.

Jason smiles. "I know how old you are, Mom."

"I know you know, baby. But I like joking around too," I tell my son.

"Now that you speak about joking… There's no TV in my room, what kind of joke is that?" he continues, complaining.

Is that really a problem? There's one in my bedroom and another one just as wide in the living room.

"Oh, come on! Don't be like that, Jason. You don't need a TV all to yourself, remember those books I got for you?" I say to him.

My son nods and responds, "Yeah."

I continue, "Well, they're in the bag I packed for you. They're not just meant for decoration on your shelves, young man," I say, pointing upstairs. "Plus, you've got your computer! I think that should be enough for your entertainment."

Afterward, we begin unpacking, ensuring everything is neatly arranged. Once we're all set, I decide to take him into town.

The standout attraction of this town, unquestionably, is its beautiful, sun-soaked beaches. Even during the winter months, the weather remains pleasant, and on certain days, you can still take a dip. I have fond memories of going there and spending time with my friends when I was Jason's age. Today, I think I'll take him there, both to introduce him to the area and to ensure he has a great time with me.

I always thought there were way too many people in this town for its size.

The beach is crowded, full of families and young people too, and I quickly notice the growing tension inside him. Everything here is entirely new to Jason, and I can imagine it might feel a bit overwhelming for a teenager. Moving from a bustling city to a small, unfamiliar town after spending his entire life in one place – it's a complete change in every aspect for him.

As I scan the people hanging out on the beach, I notice a group of girls who appear to be around his age, perhaps a year older. I sense his awkwardness, and it's possible that it's because he's here with me, his mom, and not with some teenage guys with the same interests as him. Whatever the case may be, I decide to keep ourselves away from those girls, so we place our towels pretty far away.

We walk along the shore until we find a spot right under the burning sun. I sit down, slip off my shoes, and unfurl my towel. As I remove my shirt, revealing my white bikini, I notice Jason's weird gaze on me, giving brief glances at my chest.

He's been doing just that for some time now – looking at my breasts, I mean. He's been doing it for a couple of years, actually.

Years ago, when Jason started stealing glances at me, I understood Jason was just a curious kid, after all, so I thought it probably was something temporary. Right now, Iat fourteen, he's not just a curious kid, but a teenager looking at a woman's body, and by the way he stares I can tell he doesn't like men.

I mean, that would be a very big surprise.

And setting aside my bosoms, there are other aspects that would lead most of the men I know to say that I'm pretty hot for my age. Not that a forty-three-year-old woman can't be attractive, but I'd confidently assert that I still possess allure, and it's not just my personal perception. Despite having gained a few pounds in recent years, my voluptuous figure still rocks. I've always had a curvaceous shage, but have always made an effort to take good care of myself. Regardless of the fluctuations in my weight, I diligently maintain my skin's well-being, and I won't say I look younger than I am, because I don't, but my skin looks pretty nice despite a few wrinkles here and there.

But it's not my skin he's looking at right now.

Now, let's talk about the elephant in the room – they're big. I mean, they're bigger than big. They're a part of me, a unique aspect of my physique that has always set me apart, and even if they don't define me, they certainly make a statement.

Of course, the boy's not blind. I'm much older than him, his mother, a woman he shouldn't be looking at, but men continue to cast glances my way even as I've crossed the age of forty-three and become a mother; why would I expect him to do any different than them?

There's simply no chance that my son, or any man for that matter, wouldn't notice my breasts. How could they not? They've been here with me all my life, now bigger than ever, and I could probably count on one hand the number of men I've met who weren't interested in stealing a glance because they're just a few. Most of them happened to be gay, and the rest were probably just too shy to take a peek.

They're just excessive. So big and round; full and heavy. Just picture a set of ample breasts, nearly the size of basketballs, swaying just enough, gently bouncing with every step, movement, or even when I'm standing still. While it can be uncomfortable at times, I can't deny that I understand why people find it hard to avert their gaze, it must be quite an appealing sight to witness, even if it does come with occasional discomfort.

And I know Jason is human too and, well, he can't help but take a peek from time to time.

It's not something I usually do, but I opt to give my son some breathing room at this moment, allowing him to acclimate to the surroundings. I go for a short walk to the other side of the beach, and when I come back a while later, I realize he's removed his shirt.

I sit right close to him on my own towel. He gazes out at the sea, sipping water from a bottle I brought along, while I attempt to immerse myself in the book I've brought with me. However, after a while, I find it hard to focus on the pages. Instead, I turn toward him and look straight at his young body and face.

Why do I feel this need to keep him with me forever? Why am I so overprotective of him?

Perhaps the reason I find myself drawn to him is because he's undeniably handsome, young, charming, and innocent. He exudes such sweetness that I can't help but be captivated by his allure. I have this overwhelming urge to reach out and touch his face, to embrace him, and I can't help but wish I could...

Oh, shit, what am I even thinking again?!

I'm his mother!

I can't let these thoughts conquer my mind! And God knows this is not the first time I feel this way.

"So... How do you feel about this new beginning?" I ask my son, forcing myself to forget my perverted feelings. I need to act like a mother.

He sighs. "What do you mean?"

"Well... You know. New school, new place, making new friends..." I tell him, smiling.

He smiles too. "I'm... I don't know. It's weird, but… Excited, maybe?"

"I think you should be. This town's a lot different than what you're used to. Not a big city, away from your old friends, and... How do you feel about being separated from your dad?" I ask him, even though I know we've talked about this many times at this point.

"Same as last time you asked, Mom. I don't know..." He answers, looking away. "I guess it'll be fine. You know what I think about him. And, what he did to you..." He sighs louder. "Being here with you feels like the right choice. I know you think this is the best for us. And I love you, Mom, I wouldn't leave you for Dad."

Jason is an incredibly affectionate young boy, always showering me with sweetness and expressing his love for me. I place my hand on his shoulder and give him a gentle squeeze.

"Thanks, baby. I love you too," I whisper to him.

I know he likes his mom's affection, but he's a little shy when we're in public. Typically, I'd give him a motherly kiss on the lips at a moment like this, but I understand it might make him feel even more self-conscious.

We sit in silence like this for a little while. I feel like I should leave him alone for some minutes, resting his thoughts. But I don't. I just can't. I want to keep talking to him all the time.

"I'm sorry I'm such a nag..." I say "But I want you to know you're a great kid, Jason. I'm so, so happy you agreed to come to live with me" I tell him, and he seems glad with my words. "No, I'm serious. You really are a good son. I mean, I can't imagine having a better son than you. You're so smart, so respectful, so kind to me. I'm so, so proud of you, Jason."

He blushes. "Thanks, Mom. I think you're the best mom in the world too!"

We do tend to be quite clingy at times.

I smile and kiss him on the forehead, and while I do just that, he keeps stealing glances at my chest. Well, I guess having a young boy like him looking at me like that doesn't feel so bad at all.

"Are you still mad at Dad?" He asks a couple of seconds later.

That's a pretty good question. I can't help to sigh a little, thinking of an equally good answer. How should I respond to that? Was I really mad at him at any point?

"No. Not really. I don't know, baby. It's... Complicated" I tell him "But despite everything, I want you to know, no matter what happens with your dad, I'll always be here for you." I make a long pause before talking again. "And... I don't think we need him too much right now, right?" I ask again, and he nods at his mom. "Then don't worry about it too much."

I love the way he looks right now, with the wind blowing through his hair.

He's so handsome.

"I don't, Mom," He says.

"I know."

And just like that, we share a warm embrace, as good mothers and sons do.

We've been here for some days now. It's Jason's first day of school and I'm playing the housewife mom role, waiting for him at home while I cook lunch for both of us.

Thank God my parents offered me this house. They had paid off the mortgage several years ago, and they suggested we move here. After my divorce, the city was more of a concern for me than anything else and, initially, I had my doubts, not wanting to rely on their generosity. However, as I realized I couldn't afford to buy a house or rent one, I changed my mind quickly after that. It wasn't easy, as I'm not one to live off of 'charity,' but after careful consideration, I decided to accept their offer. This town holds a special place in my heart, and it's a peaceful, wonderful spot for both me and Jason to settle and thrive.

I've worked as an accounting clerk at a fairly large company for many years, and the pay has always been quite good. However, since I wanted to live somewhere else with Jason, and my parents offered me this house, I requested a reduction in my workload and the option to work remotely, and they agreed to this, but it did come at the cost of a reduced salary.

And I thought that was okay, I guess.

It's been ten minutes, and Jason still hasn't shown up. I suggested picking him up from school, a thing I love to do every day, but he insisted on learning how to use the bus lines in this town. One good thing about this house is that it's really close to the bus stop, so I'm not worried about him going to school on time or getting lost.

I know he's been nervous all week. After all, he's quite shy. This new situation is new for him and he's not used to all these new people, and it will take some time for him to get the hang of everything. That's why I'm really worried about my son, but I've got to try my best not to let my own worries rub off on him. Right now, I've got to show some confidence so he can feel safe with me.

I've just prepared a big bowl of homemade vegetable soup. I'm wearing a nice, floral summer dress, as I like being dressed nicely even if I'm at home.

It's 3:30 p.m. and I'm starting to worry about him. Maybe I should call him on the phone?

Nah, I'm sure everything's fine. But then again, what if he forgot where our house is? I mean, it's his first day, so he might be having a bit of trouble finding our place.

The clock is ticking louder and faster. Every second that goes by without seeing him makes me a little bit anxious as time goes by. I understand some would say I'm overthinking, but I can't help it when it comes to my son. He's the most precious thing in this world to me.

I walk to the front door and open it to check outside.

Oh, there he is. I see Jason walking down the street in the distance. Thank God, he's fine and almost home. I wave at him, and when he's closer to the porch, I run to him and hug him tightly.

He seems tired.

"You're late, baby!" I tell him while we both walk to the door, me rubbing his shoulder. I want him to feel relaxed when he gets home. "Where were you?"

"Sorry, Mom. Had to wait for the bus and it felt like it took forever. I mean, it was like... Twenty minutes! I'm still trying to figure out the bus routes," he admits.

"There are only two routes in this town, baby, 1 and 2!" I chuckle.

He laughs too beside his mother. "I know, I know. I just wasn't sure which one would get me home," he explains.

So innocent.

"How was your first day, baby?" I ask him, while we come inside the house. I walk to the kitchen and he follows me, still carrying his backpack.

"It went fine, I guess" he answers, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Made friends?" I say, winking at him while I serve lunch.

"A couple. But none special."

"Well, it's the way it is. You're not gonna meet anyone special on the first day of school, baby. Especially at a new one. It's your freshman year, Jason, you'll make many friends, and after some time, once you know them a bit better, you'll choose the ones you like best" I tell him.

I hope this doesn't sound too bad. It's normal for a teenager like Jason not to be very social, especially during a new beginning like this. Even if he made friends easily, which he's never done, he'd change them soon enough, once he gets settled.

"I know I'll be fine, Mom. I'm not as shy as you think I am" he says.

I can't be entirely certain, but it seems like Jason is actively avoiding making eye contact with me right now. Even if he says he's not as timid as I think, his current unease with me only makes me feel more protective of him. And, well... why not admit it? It adds a hint of mischief to the situation too.

We eat silently, except for the usual comments about food and such. After we finish lunch, Jason gets up and takes his dishes to the counter.

"I'll clean up, ok?" I tell him. I like doing things for him. "Go get some rest."

"Ok, Mom," he smiles at me and comes up to his room.

"See you later, honey," I sing while he leaves the kitchen.

"Thanks, Mom. For everything you do," I hear steps going upstairs when I get the dishwasher ready.

I love him so much.

Too much.

When I finish washing and cleaning, I rush to my own bedroom. As I enter the room, I lock the door and then remove my dress since I'm feeling a little hot. Underneath, I wear only my panties, and I take them off too. I stand naked facing myself in front of the mirror; the same mirror my parents had in this very room when I was a teenager.

And I am so wet.

I look at myself and I know the exact, wicked reason why I'm so turned on. I touch my enormous breasts, moving my hand slowly around each of them, and then I move my fingers to my soft abdomen, reaching quickly my pubic hair. I find my needy clit and rub it carefully, spreading my thighs apart, exposing myself totally to the mirror. I let my fingers explore my pussy, feeling how much I craved this, and I close my eyes as I do it, trying to remember my son's hands touching me while we hugged outside.

No!

No…

I should be trying to remove my son's image from my mind right now. I shouldn't be thinking about my boy while I touch myself, for God's sake!

For a brief moment, I feel a touch of self-disgust. I probably should be watching porn, or even reading something instead.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, touching my slit while I play with my nipples. Again, even if I try to erase it from my imagination, I picture my son's face being held by my hands.

Oh, God.

This is sick.

So sick, so perverted.

But it's making me wetter and wetter.

I imagine his smooth body, his cute face, his adolescent... Dick. The same dick I've seen a thousand times in the last fourteen years when he's showering or getting dressed, but not in the situation I'm picturing now in my mind like it's right here in front of me. I shouldn't be picturing my son's teenage cock with my hand on it, with my long, middle-aged fingers embracing it.

It's such a cute cock, if that's a word you can say about a cock. Even if he was fully grown, it'd be a good-sized dick, and while I've never seen it in its hardest state, I bet it's more than enough to make a woman go mad in pleasure. It already has a nice, not-too-veiny shape, and its surface looks so smooth in my memories.

A thick, manly cock for a boy his age.

And fuck, why can't I stop thinking about it, for fuck's sake?

I spread my legs wide. I touch my clit with more violence while I think about my son's penis as if it was between my fingers. I can't stop picturing this beautiful, kind of motherly image while I stroke it, breathing harder, until I feel like I'm going to explode, and I picture my son's cute teen face and let myself go wild.

My hips move, thrusting forward and back, rubbing my pussy hard with my fingertips. I censor my scream, covering my mouth with my hand, now remembering my son's room is right next to mine, and I don't want him to know what's happening between these walls.

I don't want him to know how much I want him, but I'm cumming hard thinking about my boy.

I keep going, breathing heavily, moaning in my pillow now. I'm still feeling so hot and excited after cumming, and I grab my boobs, squeezing them together and pulling them up and down, until a slowly stop playing with my clit, pressing on it softly now, until I completely relax some minutes later.

Oh, damn. That was so, so good.

I guess touching my son's cock is not so bad if it happens only in my imagination. There's no need to feel bad right now about something that's only happened in the privacy of mind, right?

I take a long, relaxing shower, then I put on a pair of short pants and a white tank top, right before I decide to go visit my son in his room.

"Come in, Mom."

He's doing homework at his desk, wearing a pajama I bought him last year. I walk to him and stand right next to his chair while I rub his thick brownish hair.

"Are you doing stuff, baby?" I ask.

"Not really, not at the moment. I probably should be, though," he responds.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, honey. It's first day of school. You should be able to relax a bit. Even the brightest kids need some downtime now and then, sweetie," I reassure him.

Jason blushes, and I can tell my boy enjoys hearing that, as he's always been fond of my praise. Such a sensitive boy who likes being spoiled by his mom.

I kiss him gently on his forehead with my soft, thick lips. "How about we start watching a TV show together again, baby? Remember when we watched Game of Thrones last year?" I suggest.

He gives a long glance at his textbook and then closes it.

"Sure, Mom. Why not?"

I go downstairs, and while my son gets ready, I turn the set on in the living room and wait for him. I'm hoping this will help divert his attention from all these new changes happening in our lives. And it feels good to spend some quality time with him from time to time.

He comes down to the living room and sits on the couch, while I sit next to him.

"What do you wanna watch, baby?" I ask him.

"You choose" he answers.

"Okay, young man. How about..." I say, looking at the catalog in the TV, "How I met Your Mother?"

Jason's face seems confused when I say the show's name.

"What's it about? Never heard of it, is it a drama or something?" he says.

I can't help but laugh. He's so young! Of course, he's never heard of it. I remember watching the first few seasons back in my twenties when I wanted to kill time.

"No, honey. It's a comedy." I answer.

"A comedy?" He asks.

"Yeah, a sitcom. It's funny, I swear," I smile.

He smiles and nods. "Okay, let's watch it," he says.

I slip on my glasses, lower the lights, and we both settle in comfortably on the sofa. He snuggles up close to me as the episode starts, holding me tight. He's so sweet, kind, and gentle with me all the time. It's so obvious why he's comfortable with me: I'm his mom. I'm his safe place.

I'm pretty certain that our relationship is closer than what most mothers and sons share. We're not just family; we're best friends. I can understand him better than any psychologist or friend of his ever could. I know him inside out – his likes, dislikes, his dreams, and his fears. By simply looking into his eyes, I can tell what's on his mind, how he's feeling, and surely even what he's going to do before he does.

I know him better than he knows himself!

I feel so good right now, so complete, feeling the warmth of my son's body beside me. I can't help but feel a tinge of sadness when I contemplate what might happen to our relationship as he grows older. I don't want to imagine him growing distant from me, but I understand it's a natural part of life. At some point, it's bound to happen. I know I'll be there for him, but it won't be the same when he becomes an adult.

And that hurts.

I slide my fingers through his thick, brown hair and gently stroke his scalp at the same time he goes from my shoulder to my lap. Jason closes his eyes as he lies on me, and I see him savoring his own state of calmness resting on his mother's legs. His breathing becomes deeper and shallower, and I know he's almost asleep already after an instant.

"Comfy in there?"

He nods. "Very much, Mom."

"Good," I reply, caressing him softly, and massaging his neck with my nails. Soon, he starts falling deeply asleep, and even though I can barely see his face with my breasts blocking the view, I lean out over them slightly and I stare at his adolescent face and body.

Jason is a really beautiful boy. He's so perfect, and I genuinely mean that. It's not just something a mother would say because he's her son. Well, let's put it bluntly—he's pretty hot for his age.

Oh, God, what am I even saying to myself? What I'm trying to say is I'm so lucky to have him with me all the time, right? That's what I truly mean, isn't it? I just have this urge to reach out and touch him, to feel his soft skin and run my fingers through his hair. I guess that's not so weird, is it?

I'm just a loving mom.

I run my fingers through his hair, tenderly, trying to calm down my own self. I caress his shoulders, his arms, and his young chest, and I feel his heart beating every two seconds, his thorax filling with air slowly, while I sense his warm breath on my hand as I touch him.

I keep touching his chest, and I can't resist it when I reach and undo the collar buttons on his pajama T-shirt, carefully, trying to not wake him up, and I start touching his hairless torso. He's so smooth, so flawless that I can't help fondling his pecs and his flat tummy with all the love I have for him.

Oh, boy, the hint of his almost manly aroma is so sweet in my nostrils... A fragrance I know very well given that it's my son's. So strong and pure, so much different than any man or boy I've ever been with before. Not like any woman, or an adult, either. Just Jason's. Only my son's.

My boy sleeps soundlessly now, and I stare at him from above my cleavage, admiring every inch of his young body, asking myself why I can't stop feeling this way for my son.

Why are my feelings for him so intense and sudden ave I ever felt this way about him before? Honestly, I'm not really sure right now. I cannot believe my own thoughts, but the image of myself kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his lips... His young, beautiful co-

Oh, stop it, Sam! Again! You perverted woman! You're thinking like a pervert! You're his mother, not some creep!

Why am I wet again thinking about him when he's around, resting on my legs? I touched myself just an hour ago! I should be satisfied enough with that.

I try to keep a cool head, not allowing myself to be swept away by these wicked thoughts. I return to stroking his head again, caressing his temples while he rests comfortably on me. Then, just some minutes after he fell asleep, Jason lazily opens his blue eyes and realizes his mother unbuttoned his collar. He also notices my left hand resting on his chest while my other hand continues to tenderly stroke his beautiful hair.

I don't feel the need to panic at his awakening, cause there's nothing wrong with caressing my son this way. Why would it be? After all, we're the closest mother and son in the world, and he'll never notice the moistness in my panties down there, will he? He can't smell the wetness of my fluids coming from my panties, can he?

"What did I miss, Mom?" he asks, looking directly at the TV.

"Nothing, baby. We can rewind a little if you want", I answer, while I keep my hand stroking his hair. "You took a little nap, huh?"

"Yeah. I was kind of tired today" he says, rubbing his eye.

"You didn't get much sleep last night, did you?" I ask my son.

He shakes his head. "No. I couldn't, Mom. I was kind of ..."

"Nervous about school?" I ask him, still stroking his brown hair.

He yawns while sitting up. Then, he rests his head on my shoulder again.

"No. I mean..." He says shyly. "Well, maybe it was because of that, yeah."

I chuckle. "Well, seems like I know you can't fool your mother, Jason," I tell him. "Maybe I should go to your room and help you fall asleep every night, shouldn't I? I always seem to know how to make you relax, sweetie," I playfully suggest, not revealing the depth of my feelings behind those words.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt. It'd just be a little weird, Mom. I'm fourteen already," he says, laughing, while I can't stop caressing his hair with my fingers.

"But you're such a mommy's boy, Jason. And I'm such a doting mother" I tease him, while he's still resting his head on my shoulder.

He knows he's my boy, and I make sure he's aware of it from time to time.

"You are. You're the best, Mom" he whispers.

I hold him tightly, grabbing his arm and stroking it with so much affection that it nearly takes my breath away.

"I am! And I'm the best mom, without the comma," I tell him.

He laughs again at my words. "Of course, Mom. You're the best mom," he says, raising his head and looking me in the eye. "Without the comma."

He's just so good to me.

I choose to seize a small opportunity afforded by his sweet innocence and the comfort between us, so I take his hand in mine, and I kiss his palm, and then his sweet lips, in the same kind of motherly way I always do. I've always told Jason there's only one spot where a mother and her son should kiss.

I kiss him on the lips one more time, briefly, and I separate from his mouth after taking a deep breath of his fragrance.

"I love you, Mom," he says to me.

"I love you too, baby," I say, placing another little peck on his pouty lips. "Don't worry about school, Jason. Everything will be just fine. You just need time."

He nods, clearly knowing his is the best mother in the world and she's gonna keep him safe forever.

"Do you have plans this week? Are you meeting any of your new friends?" I ask him.

He scratches his head. "Uh, well, I don't know. I might have a thing with some of them..."

"A thing?" I ask, holding his arm and his body against me. Against his mother.

"Well, there's this thing on Friday... But I don't know if I'll be able to make it. They've already bombarded us with so much homework, and it's only the first day!" My son grumbles.

"Baby, you're in high school now. You'll get used to it." I say, but I wanna know about this thing he's talking about. "What's on Friday?" I ask.

"A party," he replies, looking at me now, asking for permission with his innocent expression.

Wait a minute. First day at school and he's been already invited to a party? What are teens thinking of these days? He's only fourteen, for God's sake! What does he mean, a party? It can't be a party, party, right? He's too young to be out there partying.

Why should I give him permission to go?

"Oh, really? A party? What kind of party?" I inquire in a stern tone of voice.

"At Alex and Sarah's, Mom." Who? "They have a pool, and they thought it could be fun, so everyone gets to know each other and-"

"And who are these Alex and Sarah?" I interrupt him, feeling a tad bit concerned.

This sounds worse and worse. Why did I divorce my husband and fight for my son's custody? So he can throw his life away in weird parties at fourteen? Is he going to tell me there will be no alcohol or drugs in there? I'm not that naive. He called it a party. What kind of party do you attend when you're only fourteen?

"I met them today, Mom. They're in my class. They're siblings, or twins, I don't know. Sarah looks nice, you'd like her. Alex is a bit... I don't know. Anyway, aren't you glad I made friends today?"

Of course, I'm glad, in a way. I love him and I want him to be social. But... Every time I think about him going to this party, surrounded by other kids, and not here with me... I get upright angry.

"I don't know if you should go that... Party, Jason," I tell him.

In an instant, Jason's earlier cheerful expression fades away.

I bet he wasn't expecting this kind of answer from me, as he isn't used to me saying 'no' to him, but he's never asked me this kind of thing before! Anyway, he looks like he's disappointed by my answer, and when he lowers his head and pulls away from me a little, it hurts me to feel his sudden rejection. But I need to be firm now, for him.

For me.

"Why not, Mom? I thought you wanted me to make friends! You said so yourself when we moved here," he looks at me, waiting for me to say something else.

I don't like it when he defies me. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, he knows I can be a bit tough to deal with.

"I did say that, but... I mean..." I pause, feeling the need to explain my reasoning thoroughly. "I think it's too soon for that, sweetie. It could be a bit overwhelming for you. I believe you should stay home this time. At least, until things come all together, it's important that for now... You stay close to me."

I think I'm trying harder to convince myself than him. It feels somewhat wrong, keeping him at home, but deep down, I know I'm going to do it anyway. I love my son, and I want him right by my side. Always.

He still doesn't seem too convinced by my words.

"You want me to stay home?" He asks. "I'm with you almost every hour of the day, Mom," He says, lowering his head again.

Now, I believe it's time to employ a bit of the classic and effective emotional blackmail I've always been quite adept at using. I must say I'm pretty used to employing this kind of technique to achieve my goals, especially with Jason and his father back when we were together. I've got a knack for it, and I'm fairly confident that Jason will be a good boy and do what I ask him to.

I'm not proud to confess I resort to such tactics at times, but I won't hesitate to use them to ensure my son does what I believe is in his best interest. It may come across as calculated and manipulative, but it works for me every time.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sure you feel like this is unfair, but I just want you to be safe, baby," I tell my boy, with a tone of voice I usually reserve only for the most serious conversations. "I want you to be happy, and I don't want anything bad happening to you, sweetheart. I know how these parties are... You all think you're older than you really are, and you're not, sweetie. And Jason, you know how I've been feeling, since I divorced your dad… I'm lacking some company, baby, and I feel like I need my son more than ever now..."

I glance down, acting like I'm more heartbroken than I really am. He knows how much I care for him, so he keeps quiet for now, expecting that I'll continue to speak. He's not looking at me, but I reach out and pull his body towards mine.

"Please, stay home with me, okay baby? This is just the first week, baby. I'll think about letting you go the next time."

"But I need to meet new people, Mom. It's part of being a teenager and… Growing up. I love being with you and all, but I shouldn't be spending all my time at home, especially in my freshman year. It's all I say..." Jason says. His voice sounds a little bit softer than before.

I'm beginning to get a tad annoyed by this chat and his stubbornness. I don't get why he can't just say, 'Fine, Mom'.

"And I understand that, sweetie. But for now, it'd better if you..." I say, trying to find the right words. "It'd be better if you spent more time at home, okay? Why can't you just do as I say, baby? I'm your mom! It's not too much to ask, is it?" I add, with a hint of frustration.

He sighs, lowering his face one more time. I notice a hint of rebellion in his body language, but I know he has already surrendered to his mom even before he makes his own decision. I understand he probably thinks he shouldn't be skipping out on these plans right now. But I don't want him drifting away from me so soon in his teenage years. I'm a strong mom, and there are times when I have to be a bit tough and strict with him, because that's what he needs from me.

And turns out I think he's cute when frustrated with me.

"I don't want you to feel lonely, Mom. You... You don't deserve that." Jason says, now staring at me again. I place my palm on his cheek, and he rubs against it, like a little puppy. "I'm sorry if I'm making you sad. I… I get what you're saying… I'll stay home with you," my boy swears.

I rub his temple, using my long, manicured fingernails. He looks so handsome with his brown hair and perfect teen face.

"Thank you, baby. That means a lot to me" I add. "I'm just doing what I think is best for you, Jason. I love you so, so much. If I lose you..." I tell him, staring at his face.

I sometimes feel like I'm not being the best mom, like I'm playing mind games, but at the same time, I'm really proud of him for being such a good son to me.

He hugs me then, putting his arms around my waist, and rubbing his head on the lower part of my neck, near the same breasts he always stares at.

"I love you too, Mom. I... But what do you mean? There's no way you could lose me," my boy promises.

I hug him back, and I speak directly to his ear, grazing it with my full lips. "I know, baby. Now, give me a good kiss. And say you forgive your harsh, cruel mom, for not letting you go to that stupid party" I tell him, smiling, while I rub his back.

We pull away at the moment, and he looks at me, with a funny expression. I know he doesn't like me calling his party stupid, but he decides to ignore that anyway.

"There's nothing to forgive, Mom. I'm the one who's sorry," my son says. Then, he gives me a quick peck on my cheek.

Oh, boy.

No, no.

"Hey, young man! What was that?" I scold him cheerfully. "Where are you supposed to kiss your mom? On her lips, or on her cheek?" I ask him, chuckling, but God knows I'm annoyed by that distant kiss.

"I know, Mom, I know!" he says, rolling his eyes. "Not on your cheek."

"That's the way it shouldn't be done, baby. I'm not some stranger! Now kiss me properly" I tell him, pointing my lips with my finger.

He leans in closer, planting a gentle kiss on my lips. And oh, my! His lips are so soft, almost like clouds – just like mine. I feel like I'm melting away at this very second, and I shut my eyes and savor the moment, even though I know it'll be over in the blink of an eye.

Why do I feel these butterflies in my stomach? Why do I feel like I'm even wetter than before?

"Like this?" he asks after pulling away a little.

"Better" I answer, while I run my hand through his hair looking at him.

I like to think he loves kissing me just as much as I do.

"I love you, Mom," he says, and I give him another peck.

If only he could be less shy sometimes... I don't understand why he gets all awkward when I act like this in public. Maybe it's because he's now fourteen, even though he should know I have no plans to change how I am around him.

"You're so handsome, baby. Almost a man now," I tell him while still so near him, looking at him everywhere in his beautiful face.

"Mom... Stop that," he says, blushing while he smiles.

I let out a light chuckle. I can't help it; I just adore it when Jason gets a bit flustered because of my antics.

It's seriously cute.

"Stop what, sweetie?" I ask him.

"You know what I mean! You're too cheesy with me sometimes," the fourteen-year-old chuckles.

I lean forward and kiss him again, on the lips. "Sorry, baby. But you're so cute! So sweet and adorable" I tell my son.

He's glancing at me with those big blue eyes, switching between my face and my boobs. And I give him a smile, showing it doesn't bother me if he finds me a bit annoying, that I enjoy being like this with my son. Showering him with love and pampering him is something I adore, and that's not going to change.

"Ok now, is my little man hungry?" I ask, standing up and walking away to the living room door.

"Starving actually," he says, getting up as well.

"Well, then I guess it's dinner time!" I say, while my son follows me like the perfect obedient young man he is.

Chapter 2: A Teenage Boy Wants to Party

Notes:

Hello everybody! I'm missing some feedback, guys. If you have the time, I'd appreciate your comments about things that could be improved.

Hope you like it!

Chapter Text

"Sam?" My sister's voice sounds a little bit muffled through the phone.

I'm hoping she has some time for me. She's usually a very busy woman, but I'd say normally we call each other almost every day, or twice a week at least.

"Hey, sis! I thought you forgot about me," I answer.

"How would I forget about my dear big sister? I just had the usual stuff to take care of, you know. Same shit as always" Lauren says.

She's a lawyer in New York.

"Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. Just tell me how it's going so you can ignore me for the rest of the week again" I tell my sister.

"You ask me? I should be asking you! My life's the same as ever: working all day, clients making me sick..." She complains a lot. "But, hey, let's not talk about me! How's it going, adapting to life in that crummy summer town? Missing the city? Starting to feel a bit lonely?"

What a bitch Lauren can be sometimes! Despite knowing how badly I needed this divorce, her words can feel like barbs. She's aware that this town doesn't offer much excitement or entertainment for people our age, particularly when summertime is gone.

When we were younger, this place was an even more lackluster place to live, we loved coming here every summer anyway since we had plenty of friends to hang out with during our teenage years. Of course, twenty-five years ago we didn't think that with time, we'd drift apart from all of them. I guess that's what happens with childhood friends, and especially with those you make during vacation.

Still, despite the occasional boredom, our affection for this town stands firm.

"Lonely? You're a cruel bitch, you know that, right?" I chuckle. "I'm fine, little demon. Just getting used to living here. This isn't the same town it was when we were fifteen, but feels nice, you know? Being back here. And... Now I have an amazing teenage son who loves me so much and takes good care of me."

"You know how glad I am that he's there with you and not with that dickhead you were married to. I'm sure Jason's happy he's got a mother like you," she says.

"Well, I hope he is. So... How are things with Steve? It's weird you haven't mentioned him already," I ask.

She sighs. "Fine, I guess. You know he can be hard to deal with sometimes."

"That doesn't sound too convincing, sis. Did I miss something?" I ask my sister.

I know Steve can be a sexist asshole when he wants to.

"Not much, really. We've had some... hiccups lately. Nothing major. You know how our marriage goes. It's like a roller coaster at times, with its ups and downs."

Steve and my sister have been together since college. That's almost twenty years side by side, and even though they've always had discussions about pretty much everything, I think they're the most compatible couple in the world. I love my sister, but she can be a pain in the ass too. Both toxic, both crazy for each other.

"So what did he do this time?" I insist.

She sighs.

"I don't think I really wanna talk about it, Sam. Just forget I said anything. Tell me about Jason again, how's my dear nephew? Is he getting used to living there? It's been like ten years since the last time he was there, right?" She asks, changing the topic.

"Okay, I get it. No more Steve" I answer. "He's fine. Better than I expected, actually. I mean, I thought he was gonna go nuts, considering all the circumstances: away from his dad for the first time in his life, new home, new town, new people, new school, and new everything. But he hasn't even complained that much. He looks kind of happy, I guess. Anyways... Well, I have to say he's a little bit upset with me right now. He acts like everything's fine, but I know he's pissed off."

"Pissed off? Really? Jason, our Jason? Why? It's really hard to piss that kid off," Lauren responds.

"Well, we had a little discussion yesterday. He really wanted to go to this party..." I explain.

"A party? Wow! First week of school and he's already been invited to a party! That's so cliché, isn't it? He's at that age already, huh?"

"Yeah. Crazy, right?" I answer.

"I guess the boy's growing up!" She says, cheerfully "So, what's with this party?"

"Not much, actually. He said he really, really wanted to go. But I told him he can't, I mean, it's obvious he can't."

"Sam!" My sister exclaims "Did you really tell him that? But why?"

I nod to myself, even though my sister can't see me through the phone. "Of course, I did. There's no reason for him to go to that party. He's still too young, isn't he?"

Lauren remains silent for a few seconds.

"But he needs to make friends, Sam. He's fourteen! You have no heart, sis!" She tells me.

What does she mean I have no heart? Does she realize he's my son? The one I raised by myself almost without any help from his damned father? The same I'm still trying to raise? I know him much better than anyone! I'm not stupid. I know what's best for him.

"You're just like our own mother sometimes, Sam" Lauren continues, sounding very concerned now. "You're too controlling with him. Do I have to remind you what you did when you were fourteen? I mean, I get you were a lot more mature than Jason at his age, but you were still a kid yourself. And you did go to parties and worse when you were that young. You used to have fights with Mom all the time, trying to earn your own freedom. Do I need to remind you?"

My sister makes me think back to those times pretty accurately. "Yeah, I do remember, Lauren. But Jason's not like I was back then, and I'm much more broad-minded than Mom was with us! I know what I'm doing, sis. I'm just trying to protect him," I claim.

"From what? You're his mother! You should be protecting him from... Bullies and such! Not from making new friends! Not from growing up! What are you so afraid of?"

I sigh. My sister knows me better than anyone, but I don't want her to see the crazy, possessive mother side of me. I don't want her to see how... Yeah, let's say it: how I'm manipulating Jason.

Maybe she's right when she says I'm a bit like my mother.

"I'm not afraid of anything. I just want to make sure Jason's safe and he doesn't make mistakes. I don't want him to get drunk or... Hurt! He's not mature enough to go partying like that" I tell her.

"Mistakes? Drunk…? He turned fourteen weeks ago! You still mother him so much, Sam. He's a mommy's boy and he won't quit being so if you keep that overprotective attitude with him forever! When are you gonna give him room to become an adult? He needs to make mistakes to grow up, sis."

Lauren sighs.

I remain silent.

"Look, I always tell you how I admire you for the way you've educated your son. He's such a sweet boy! He's responsible, smart, polite, respectful, a good student, and more than that, and that's mostly thanks to you. He's a really nice young man. You're the best mother I know, Sam! But... I have to tell you this: if you shelter him too much, he'll never learn how to deal with the real world. You need to let him make mistakes, as you say, and have some fun. If there's actually alcohol in that little party of his, I'm sure he'll know better, because that's the way he is. I mean, it's obvious you love him, and he loves you deeply, but you need to let him live his life a little bit" Lauren concludes.

One thing you must know about my sister is how she knows exactly when she needs to be honest with someone. Especially with me. She never hesitates to tell me what I don't want to hear. I love and hate it at the same time.

I sigh, thinking about that thing she said, that he's a mommy's boy, that I shelter him too much, and I won't deny my sister's right about those things, but... Why is that wrong, honestly? What else could he be if not his mother's boy? I gave birth to him, breastfed him, and carried him inside my belly. I wash his clothes twice a week, I cook for him every day, I clean up after him, I make sure he gets a good education, I take care of him whenever he's sick and I buy him whatever he needs. I spoil him so much! Of course, he is a mommy's boy!

What's the problem with that if I love him so much?

My sister is still waiting for an answer.

"He's my son, Lauren. I'm not going to stop being his mom if that's what you mean. And I'll do whatever I can to protect him" I respond firmly.

It's Friday. I'm cooking lunch in the kitchen when I hear the door.

"Hi, baby!" I exclaim happily, as I see him enter through the sliding door leading inside the kitchen, carrying his bookbag slung across his shoulders, wearing blue jeans and sneakers, with a dark red T-shirt.

He doesn't seem happy today. I noticed it right away, just by the way his footsteps sound. I know him too well to miss that.

He comes to me and I embrace him using my caring arms, trying not to stain his clothes with my hands.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing," he just says.

I force him to look at me with my most powerful and obtrusive stare. "Jason, I'm sure something is bothering you. What is it?"

"Nothing," he repeats.

"Come on, tell me," I insist, in a sweeter voice this time.

Jason sits on the chair, showing a little pout, and he sighs. Despite his discontent, I feel satisfied when he takes a little look at my cleavage, even though my clothes aren't too revealing today. They're just the right way to make me look good. Sexy, even.

Oh, God, is that wrong? Feeling sexy in front of my son? Well, I can't lie. It's obvious I chose this tank top because I thought Jason would look at it. It's not like he's never seen my cleavage before, right?

His glance draws a little smile on my face.

"Don't be like that, Jason. I'm your mother. I deserve to know what's going on with my son" I continue. "Are you pissed because of that party?"

He then looks at my face, and I can see the guilt on his face for only bringing up the issue.

"Everyone in class was speaking about it today, Mom! Everyone!" He says. "Talking about clothes they're gonna wear, the music, the things they gonna do..."

I stare at him sternly, and I play the cold mom.

"So? What's the problem with that?" I ask him, although I know exactly what the problem is.

"I... I... I mean... It's not fair, Mom. I asked you to let me go," his voice seems to be cracking. "I begged you. All week. And you wouldn't budge. You kept saying 'no' every time. It's... I just know they're gonna have so much fun! And I'll be left out if I don't go."

I know I'm playing hard with him. I know I am. And he seems a little broken now, so probably I'm being too unfriendly.

"Baby..." I frown while I cross my arms under my breasts, and he can't avoid checking them out again, even if he's upset with me. "I thought we already had this discussion, Jason. You won't go. Period. I don't like the idea of you going to that party, and I don't like the idea of you being there with so many people you don't know just yet. And I absolutely hate the idea of you drinking alcohol or... Worse!" I raise my tone, in a preoccupied but upset voice. "You say you've grown, but you don't seem to listen to me."

He's staring at my chest again with puppy eyes. Not sure if he's absent or looking at my breasts on purpose. What I know for sure is he's a little bit scared of me at the moment, like he always is when I use this tone of voice.

Is it wrong if I think he's cute when he stares at me with his heart broken face?

He shakes his head sadly. "I do, Mom! I listen to you all the time!"

I think I need to calm down right now. I can't play the overbearing mom all the time.

"I know you're a good boy, Jason, but you're still my son and you live under my roof. I can't help being a little bit protective over you," I approach him.

"I know, Mom. I know. I just wish you... You'd trust me more" he says, looking at his feet now.

"I do trust you, baby. I know you're trying hard to adjust to our new lives here. You thought maybe it would be easier for you to make friends this way. I see that. I even encouraged you to try to do just that at school, didn't I?" I ask, and he nods. "But partying around isn't what I meant at all, sweetie," I whisper softly, sitting beside him now. "It's a natural thing, I guess. You're young and you need to have fun, but I don't want you to do it at any cost. Not that way. I don't care what your friends think, and I definitely don't care what the other parents believe. You can go out with your friends, but not like that."

I hug him tightly and drive his head to my neck, where he can smell my motherly fragrance and feel the presence of my breasts peeking through my cleavage.

Am I doing it just because I want him to feel good or because I want him to have a better look at his mom's bosoms? I don't really know, but I feel him smelling my skin while I hold him close and his hair's aroma fills my nostrils too.

My son returns the embrace, and now it seems like he's not so upset with me.

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry. I'm just so tired of being cooped up in this house all week. I feel like I need some fresh air, I guess."

"I know you do, honey. That's something I can understand. Maybe we can go to the mall tomorrow. What do you think?" I propose.

He nods.

"You promise we'll go?" I ask him. "You used to complain all the time when I took you to the mall."

"But I was a kid!" He complains. "I'm not a kid anymore, mom. And… I think I need some new clothes now that… Well, I'm in high school now."

How adorable. He's definitely growing up, wanting to dress nicely now that he's getting closer to adulthood.

"I suppose you're right about that, and it'll be good for both of us to get out of this old house. We can search for some new stuff for you to wear, and we can have lunch somewhere fancy. How does that sound?"

"Ok. I guess it won't be so bad," he says, breathing deeply on my neck.

Good. That front is covered.

"Okay, so... What do you wanna do today? It's Friday," I ask him sweetly, caressing his arm with my long fingernails. He pulls away a bit, and I can't help but notice that he looks again at my breasts for a couple of seconds.

God, Jason, will you stop doing that all the time?

"Whatever you want, Mom."

That's the answer I need.

"I want to spend time with my baby," I reply, looking straight into his blueish eyes.

I know I can sound so damn corny at times, but honestly, I don't really mind. It was such a great feeling saying those words out loud because they're one hundred percent true: I truly cherish him, and I want him to know it. I also know he enjoys spending time with his mom!

"We can... Watch that TV show you like. The Moment I Met Her...?" he asks.

I burst out laughing.

"The Moment I Met Mer?! Really?!" I laugh out loud. "I know you fell asleep watching it the other day, but I hoped you remembered the name of the show at least!"

"What was its name?" He giggles too, now more relaxed beside his mother.

"How I Met Your Mother!"

"Well, that was close enough," he says.

"At least you tried, baby," I caress his hand. "Does that mean you want to spend some time with your old mom too, young man?"

He nods. "Yeah."

I giggle. "OK then, we'll do something together, but no TV today! Do you remember the books I brought for you last week? You need to read at least one of them if you want to keep your mother happy" I tell him, using my most caring voice.

"Oh, really? You're going to make me read while my friends are partying?" he whines.

"Come on! It'll be fun, I promise. Pick the one you like the most and we'll spend the evening just like that. Mother and son, reading together," I smile widely. "But… I still have some work to do on a company presentation for the next quarter and it'll probably take me the whole afternoon. So, you can come to my room after dinner," I pause for a moment, and then rub the back of his hand with mine, giving it a little shake. "Sounds great for a Friday plan, right?"

"Yeah, whatever, Mom," he answers, giving me a halfhearted grin.

After lunch, I head upstairs to the third room down the hallway, which I've turned into an improvised office. This used to be Lauren's room years ago, although now it's equipped with a desk, my laptop, and some shelves where I've organized all the company's documents and such. Working from home grants me the flexibility to set my own schedule, and I enjoy having more free time since I rarely leave the house, except for grocery shopping.

However, when I reflect on my conversation with my little sister, I have to admit she's spot on about something: isolation can be overwhelming in this town at times, especially when Jason heads off to school every day, leaving me alone at home for hours on end.

The greatest advantage of working remotely is the time I get to share with my son. I'm grateful for Jason's company, but I suppose I'll need to figure out a way to make new friends if I want to be fully happy in this new life. I hope this doesn't come across as old-fashioned, but as a mother, I genuinely enjoy taking care of him – cooking his meals, ironing his clothes, tidying up his room, and so on. Not to mention all the cuddles, kisses, and hugs.

Despite the occasional trouble he stirs up, being home with my son is something I absolutely love, and we have so much fun together.

Since we arrived, the best way I've found to keep myself entertained is by developing hobbies for my leisure time, and one of them is gardening. Some mornings, I use my time at home planting new flowers, taking care of the ones I already planted, or doing some research about this new hobby I have.

Oh my goodness.

I can't believe how much I've embraced a maternal role in my daily life. When did this happen? It feels incredibly natural and instinctual to care for my home and my child, and despite the exhaustion it causes me sometimes, I find it so fulfilling at times! I must be drugged by motherhood hormones lately, and it's like ever since my divorce, my maternal instincts have gone into overdrive or something along those lines.

I just wish other less motherly impulses wouldn't have awakened inside me at the same time.

"You can come in, baby," I tell Jason after he knocks.

We've had dinner already and I'm waiting for my son in my room when he knocks on my door. He walks inside carrying a book with only his pajamas on, me on my bed, dressed in my nightgown.

"Hi, Mom," he says, closing the door behind him.

"Hey there, sweetie. You're here already!" I exclaim with a smile, pleasantly surprised by how quickly he got ready after dinner. "Did you brush your teeth?"

He nods in response. "I did."

"Great. So, sweetheart, what are you reading in the end?" I inquire with curiosity.

"The title is..." he begins, glancing at the cover. "The Catcher in the Rye. Have you ever read it?"

"It's a classic, Jason. Of course, I've read it, back in my teenage years. I had a copy years ago, but couldn't find it. That's why I got it for you. Come sit here," I suggest, patting the bed while holding my own book.

"Ok, Mom," he says.

I see Jason getting comfortable on my bed, placing his head on my big, soft pillow. I lie down right next to him and open my novel on the same page I stopped reading last time. We linger there for a while, turning pages from time to time, side by side, our minds engrossed in the words before us.

At a certain point, I start stroking his forearm with my right hand while I hold my book with the other. I don't really know how long we've been together like this, maybe an hour, maybe, but it could be more than that.

My boy's skin feels so warm and smooth that it makes me feel a little tingly every time my fingertips dance over the surface. His arm is fit, thin, just in the way I like my man to be. I move my hand up his arm and then lower it again, making him squirm a little as it comes and goes. I'm so focused on him that I'm not reading my book anymore, almost pretending to do so, and meanwhile, I run my nails through his forearm.

I kiss the back of his head when he closes his eyes and leans his head against my arm.

I adore the way he responds to me when I give him my motherly love. It's the way he lets me know with his gestures that he wants me to keep going, that he's willing to receive all of it. Seeing the goosebumps all over his body, I can tell that he's enjoying the feeling of my fingernails grazing on his teenage skin.

"How do you like the story so far, baby boy?"

"I don't know, I've only read a few pages" he answers. He scratches his own head, and I know there's something in his mind. "Mom, can I ask you something?"

That's weird, coming from Jason. Normally, he'd just ask me anything without hesitation.

"Sure, honey."

Jason takes a deep breath. "I, umm… Mom, I don't know how to put this, but... I'll just say it. When did you have your first kiss?" He asks.

Wow, really? That's what my kid wants to talk about right now?

Nice.

I didn't expect that kind of question from a boy as shy as him, but at least he gathered his guts and asked it. And it isn't a weird thing to ask anyway. If anything, it's strange he hasn't brought that up ever before.

I blink rapidly, knowing he needs a quick answer, and not seeing me hesitating. "When I was fifteen, I think." I lie blatantly about the actual number, since I was a year younger than what I said.

But I don't want him to know that.

"And... Can I… Can I ask how it felt?" He mumbles.

"Well, you know... that was ages ago. There was this guy, Peter. He was a year older than me. We liked each other, but we were just friends for a long time, like months. And I was so desperate for him to kiss me, actually. We never seemed to really talk or act too flirty, but we knew we had a thing for the other. So, one day, I got tired of waiting, I just asked him out on a date, and by the end of the night, I went for the kiss," I pause my speech, trying to remember what he said to me. "He told me I had a nice mouth," I chuckle. "Why do you ask?"

My son sits up and looks away, shyly.

"Just curious, I guess..." He says scratching his head again. I stare at him intently, studying him closely.

Why would he be worried about that?

He sighs and lays back on the bed, facing upwards, resting his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling.

"Jason, baby, are you worried about your first kiss?" I still caress his arm.

He frowns slightly.

"Why would you think I am?" he questions me back.

"Well... You just asked me about it," I laugh. "And I can see it in your face. You always get nervous whenever you talk to girls, I've seen it a couple of times, honey. I know you well. You act weird around girls, the only exception being me. So I figure you must be thinking about it."

"Seems like I can't hide anything from you. It's obvious, isn't it? I... I guess, yeah, I'm a little bit worried about that," he admits quietly. "It's just... I don't know... What happens during a kiss? During a first kiss, I mean. Is it... Weird? Gross?"

I can't help smiling a little at his cuteness.

"It depends on too many things, baby. And also on how you kiss her and how she kisses you, on the experience you both have, and especially on what you feel for the person you kiss," I answer.

Why is he asking these things? Why is he so curious?

Oh, wait.

"Hey, young man," I grab his arm, chuckling, turning to him. "You're falling for some girl, aren't you? Thinking about asking for a date and kissing her?"

Jason's expression gets clouded.

"No, Mom" he answers meekly. "It's not like... I don't think I like anyone right now."

He's lying.

I know he is.

"But... Sometimes I feel like I'll never find anybody to do that... To kiss and... I mean, I've never had a girlfriend, Mom," my boy concludes.

Of course, I know he's never had a girlfriend before, but that doesn't mean this whole conversation, the mere fact that he's thinking about it, is hitting me hard. I didn't even realize how old I am until now. How did this happen? When did he grow up so much? He's still just a kid to me! Why is he even thinking about girls and kissing?

I snuggle closer to Jason and wrap my arms around him.

"Confess. You're not going to start dating some girl anytime soon, are you?" I ask him with maternal, sincere concern. "I don't want you growing apart from me. I'd hate to lose my favorite person in the whole world, baby…"

I don't want to sound too possessive, but these words came out as a reflex.

I reach out with both hands to cup his cheeks, pulling him toward me. Then he looks at the two big bulges of my breasts under my nightgown, and the not-so-weird thing is my son seems to enjoy looking at them, in a shy, awkward way.

And I... I kind of like having him look right now, at this very moment. Honestly, what mom wouldn't? It's not some creep in the streets staring lewdly at my tits. It feels so much different when it's your teenage son doing it. It's intimate. It's my baby who does it! It's cute, arousing even, to see my own son can't help looking at the alluring bosoms on my chest. I think it's his innocence that makes it worse somehow... And better.

Jason looks into my eyes now and tries to hide a small smirk on his lips. It makes him feel uneasy when I use that kind of tone with him, when I sound so motherly and clingy. It's not that I'm trying to make him uncomfortable with it, it comes natural, but I sort of like the way he reacts to my voice between my arms.

"N-No, Mom," he says nervously. "What I'm saying is... It's just... Most of my new friends at school have had their first kiss already and..."

Most of his friends?

Lying again.

"And...?" I coax him gently.

"And… I don't know, Mom."

"Don't worry about that, baby. Your time will come really soon. I'm sure of it. Just don't get obsessed with it, and don't pounce on the first girl you see, okay? There's no need to rush into anything and don't let anyone put pressure on you for that. Not your friends, not any girl. Do it with someone you really, really like. Someone you love, even. A special someone, honey."

"Yeah, you're probably right. But sometimes I feel like... I feel that pressure, Mom," he says, showing some relief that his mom knows exactly which emotions his heart holds. "I guess you always know best, Mom. You always give the best bits of advice. I likely needed to hear just that. I mean, for you, all these things… They must be obvious, but for me..."

"It's not obvious at all, sweetie, for anyone your age. It's something you need to learn at some point, Jay," my brain and my panties betray me when I say what comes next. "Plus... I gotta tell you, baby, kissing your girl shouldn't be that different from kissing your mom, don't you think?"

I can't believe I just told him that.

Jason blinks repeatedly and opens his mouth, looking at me almost speechless. I keep smiling, enjoying his confusion.

"Mom! Of course, it's different. I mean… It must be, right?"

I'm a teasing bitch.

"Well, there's a woman and there's a man. And they... Kiss. Just like you and I do, right?" I reason, laughing at his reaction.

Finally, he gives a faint smile and shrugs, saying, "Yeah, maybe," in response. I think he assumes I'm kidding.

I wish I was.

I wrap my arms tight around him, and I rest my chin on top of his head to give him a long, tender embrace. Jason stays silent for several moments, staring blankly ahead as he breathes deeply, and then finally breaks the silence.

"I… I love the way you smell, Mom... Your scent is always the best," he whispers softly against my chest.

This fourteen-year-old man just knows how to make me feel good with his good-boy words.

I hold him tight, as I feel him sniffing the pretty much bare skin there is on my breasts, obviously filling his nostrils with my fragrance, which he loves. How could he not? I am his mother, after all. My smell is like home for him.

"Aw, baby..." I whisper on the back of his head, "You're so sweet to me," I kiss his hair and sigh.

I once more inhale his perfume, loving it as much as he loves mine, and I feel his body relaxing between my arms.

We remain just like that, embracing each other silently for a brief moment, feeling each other's warmth, my nose smelling him, and my hand caressing his hair.

I love the way he breathes so close to me, near my neck and my cleavage.

I love him.

The way I feel for him is beyond me right now, and I wish I had a reasonable explanation for it. I know he's my son, but sometimes I have the impression he's way more than that, like we're… Soulmates?

Maybe it's because we share so much. Our genes, for example, and all we've been through together. Or perhaps it's the way he needs me so much, the fact that I'm the person who understands him the best, the one who takes care of him. My instincts and my deepest mother's intuition tell me that our relationship goes far deeper than just being mother and son.

I'm sure that's not happening only in my mind. He must be feeling the same way, right?

But that's not the part that concerns me though. It's the butterflies I feel in my stomach, the same butterflies I feel under my panties, those who have been tormenting me ever since he grew up so much.

Why does this pure, immense love I feel for my son make me so horny every time? Why am I wet down there while I caress him? While looking after him and protecting him?

Really, why do I feel this way about him? He's my son! Is this sensation ever going to go away? I'm so damn turned on around my baby all the time! A fourteen-year-old boy!

They should put me in a cage!

…

Calm down.

I breathe, slowly and deeply. I kiss his forehead and he naturally leans his head into my cleavage… Again.

What a view, seeing my Jason nestling so close to my big, soft breasts, and his head looks almost tiny between them. I wonder if he's glancing at them from that close. I can't see his face, but I bet he's probably looking at my boobs at this very moment while I tenderly fondle him. He sure thinks I won't ever notice the way he looks at me, and I'm certain he believes his mom could never think of him that way. As a sexual being. As a man.

He's so wrong if he assumes that.

Jason is sweet and innocent, but he's also a horny kid. Of that I'm certain.

I stroke his hair and plant another kiss on his head as he nuzzles his face deeper into my cleavage. My goodness, I have an overwhelming desire to spoil him right now. It feels like it's been ages since I had him this close to me. Yet, it hasn't been that long since the last time I moistened my panties thinking about him.

Now, both of these feelings are happening simultaneously.

"You're my baby boy, aren't you? Even if you're a teenager, Jason, becoming a man already. Tell me you are," I say to him.

He nods.

"You're my sweet baby boy," I repeat again, firmly and softly.

He shakes another quick bob.

Oh, God, I wish it could always be like this with him. It used to be this way when he was little. I mean, I'm always telling him I love him, hugging and kissing him, but this feeling is even better than usual.

Recently, he's been hoping for me to be a bit...calmer around him – or perhaps even more reserved –, and especially when there are people around. Thank God we're alone in my room and I can mother him the way I want. Right now, I can show him how much I love him, even if that means wetting my underwear.

Maybe I should just accept the way I feel for Jason. Perhaps I need to accept these feelings once and for all, and stop fighting them, even if I'm sure I won't act on these urges.

Because I won't, right?

I kiss his head, one more time, sensing his hair on my soft mouth. I stroke his hair, making sure he notices my long nails walking through the back of his head to the top of his scalp.

But there's more. Something else happens.

I feel my heart beating faster at the confirmation of this foreboding I had about him, and it begins the moment I notice the bulge on his pajama pants.

No way.

Oh my fucking God.

I can't believe what I see. I can't believe what I feel! It's not only my eyes that notice his crotch growing. It's my leg that feels it getting bigger and bigger, harder and thicker. Oh, fuck! I even see the tent forming in his pants while he hugs me, the outline of his erection showing its silhouette.

I can even see the shape of his glans!

Just calm down again, Samantha fucking Matthews.

Maybe he's just comfortable and feeling happy at the moment. I know teen boys are kind of hard almost every minute of the day. They don't need any encouragement. They have erections even when they're not thinking about sex. There are absolutely no reasons to believe he's hard because of me – his mother.

But...

What if?

Can I really ignore the fact that my son has a hard-on in his pants as I caress him? Because that's not something I'm picturing in my mind. It's really happening, the feeling of his hard cock throbbing inside those clothes against my thigh.

Breath, Sam. Breath. Calmness and control need to win over desire.

Parenting should win against...

Incest.

I try to push away the dirty, perverted thoughts forming in my brain, but deep inside I can't think of anything else right now. My heart is pounding wildly in my chest.

Can he even notice my pulse? Could he feel I'm this aroused with him in my arms? Or is he too focused on looking at my enormous boobs to pay attention to my body language? I'm sure Jason is so naive that he thinks I have no clue about his obvious erection. Of course, there's no way he'd realize how horny I am right now, maybe even hornier than him.

That's what I want to believe, that he doesn't know. And I can't let him know.

But... Fuck! I'm so, so wet that I'm sure that the moment he walks out of this room I'm going to get my toy out of the drawer, and I'm going to use it while I rub my clit with my fingers, until I cum, picturing him again in my arms.

My pussy feels too fucking moist at this moment that I know my panties must be soaked through. Thank God he's only fourteen and inexperienced, because if he had ever tasted the flavor of a drenched pussy like mine, he'd be able to smell the odor right from where he is right now.

And I wish I could forget he's erect right now. Everything would be much easier if I didn't know. But, oh God! My son being this hard between my arms...

I have to stop feeling and start thinking.

I have to get hold of myself.

I can't even imagine Jason being turned on by me. By his mother! His forty-three-year-old mother. I shouldn't even be able to consider it! But... Again, what if it's not only my imagination?

If he's so innocent and naive, why is he so hard right now beside me, against me? If he's so sweet and young, why am I so attracted to him? Why would I want to touch him in a way no mother should? Why would I want to feel his hardness poking on me? To rub my fingers on it?

Why do I want to feel his teenage cock inside me?

Chapter 3: A Day Together

Notes:

Sorry about the delay! I've been pretty busy lately. Hope in summer I have more time to write.

Expecting your feedback!

Chapter Text

The following morning I wake up early, and I expect Jason to still be peacefully asleep.

Saturday.

He probably hasn't gotten a full night's sleep for more than a week now, since the day we arrived at this town. He's been feeling a little bit anxious lately. A completely normal thing to expect from a teenager and any human being in his situation. Everyone needs time to adapt to changes.

New room, new bed, new house, and new life.

I crawl out of bed and walk to the downstairs bathroom, and I take a warm, steamy shower like I do every morning. I dress myself into a pair of jeans, a loose sweater, and sneakers, and I leave the bathroom feeling clean and ready for the day.

I carefully open Jason's door, trying to be quiet with my moves so I don't wake him up too abruptly, and when I step in, I hear the boy snoring lightly. His room looks pretty messy in the weak morning light that's coming through the window's half-closed curtains.

Smells like teen spirit.

Like teenage boy spurt, actually. This time it's not exactly Jason's sweet perfume I love so much. It's different, like all his hormones and pheromones are floating around in the chamber. More intense, maybe stronger somehow.

He's becoming a man.

I can barely see his face in the half-dark room, so I open the curtains and the window too, to refresh the air before I hear him grunting in his sleep.

His room has more decoration than a few days ago since he's been making lots of little changes. Now, instead of having all those empty shelves on the wall, you can find some books, photos, and stuff on them. A few posters along the walls, and I know I'm beginning to get a little old because I don't recognize any of the people in them except for one: that Argentinian soccer player he's obsessed about.

I walk to Jason's bed and sit down on the edge. He's not completely naked, but he's only wearing his underwear below the bed sheets. Jason's hairless chest is completely exposed. And a new, small pimple on his chin catches my eye for a moment. He doesn't have a single trace of facial hair, which makes him look like a cute young man.

I always found that sexy: a well-shaved man. Although he doesn't need to shave, and he's not completely a man.

Oh, my boy.

His penis bulges underneath the fabric, showing the nice morning wood I was expecting, and it looks almost fully erect. He looks sort of thick and meaty down there, and I need to stop looking before my son sees me gazing at the beauty between his legs. But I have to admit it looks so appealing for a boy his age.

"Hey there" I whisper, as he fights to remain asleep despite my voice and the morning light.

My son opens his eyes slowly and turns toward me, smiling widely at the sight of his mom sitting on the side of his bed. I chuckle and put my hand on his bare shoulder.

"You look so cute when you wake up," I say.

"Good morning, Mom," he responds groggily.

I caress his chest softly, letting my nails slide lightly across his smooth skin. "Did you finally get a good sleep today?" I murmur.

Jason nods, rubbing his sleepy eyes with both hands. Then he sits up straight, turning to see the clock on his phone.

"Do you remember what you promised for me today?" I ask him.

"I did what?" he says, now looking at the notifications on his screen.

I smoothly dig my nails into his chest and I see his nipple's reaction, hardening a bit. "You promised to do something with me today." Jason turns his face to look at me in a confused way. "You promised me a date, remember?"

He frowns.

"Oh, right! I know, I know... I said I'd go to the mall with you, Mom. I do remember. Just don't call it a date, please," he complains, his cheeks all blushed.

"Why? What's the problem with the word date? It just means we're going out, right?" I tease him, giving him a playful smile.

Jason rolls his eyes and gives me a frustrated look, but he chuckles in the end. "You're so weird sometimes, Mom."

"And you're so funny when you're flustered," I say in a cheerful voice. "We'll have a nice mother-son date today. My boy will take me to the mall, and then we'll go have lunch somewhere... I'll buy you some ice cream if you want. We'll have so much fun!" I tell him, laughing.

Jason frowns again at me, shaking his head.

"Oh, Mom... Can we please do something else instead? Like here, at home? I'll..." he tries to say.

I don't like my plans being changed.

I want to be the one in control of the situation.

"No, no! You promised to take me out. You can't change your mind once you've made a promise," I scold him.

But then, I rub his chest again so he knows I'm not angry. If anything, just a little annoyed. I get closer, leaning forward, so I can whisper into his ear.

"You promised, dear. I'd be very happy if we went shopping together. You've grown into a handsome young man this last year and I think you need some new clothes. We should buy you some new T-shirts and pants. Wouldn't you like that?" I ask him.

My boy sighs. "Fine. Let's go. Let me go get dressed first, okay?" he says reluctantly.

"So you think it's gonna be boring to spend the day with your mom, is that what you're saying? Is that what you're implying?" I say in my most sultry tone. "You don't want to have some mother-son fun, huh?"

"No, Mom. That's not what I'm saying. Of course, I want to go to the mall with you..." he says while his face goes redder and gulps loudly. "Just don't tease me."

I giggle playfully.

"Good," I stand up and kiss him on his forehead. "Then let's get going right now. Have a shower, dress up! I'll prepare breakfast and I'll wait for you in the garage, okay?"

Jason mutters something I can barely hear. After that, he gets up from his bed, grabs his clothes from his wardrobe, and goes to the bathroom with his back turned to me.

My new car's comfortable and cozy.

I bought it months ago, right before the divorce, and it still keeps some of that new-smelling vehicle scent that I love. The leather seats are soft, and the soundproofing is excellent and helps me relax when driving; I hardly hear the tires on the road, and there's a huge screen in the middle of the dashboard where I connect my phone, so I can listen to my music. Even if it's the same music I've been listening to for so many years.

Jason's beside me, in the passenger seat, and while my hands are on the steering wheel, my elbows and upper arms partially pressuring my breasts, I notice he can't keep his quick glances away from me. I turn the radio on and put some soft radio music in the car, in order to avoid his usual complaints about the songs I like, and I look away from him, pretending I don't notice his frequent looks on my legs and my cleavage.

Today I'm dressed in blue jeans and a simple white, light sweater that reveals almost all of my neck, with a pair of black pumps completing the outfit. My brown hair hangs down my shoulders, covering them partially from sight, and my face's now hidden behind dark sunglasses.

I look awfully casual, but I know how attractive I am despite that.

We quickly get to the town mall and switch off our car in the vast parking lot there's beside it. The mall is crowded since one of the few things you can do in this town is come to this place: your typical shopping center full of clothing stores, electronics shops, and fast food restaurants.

It's incredible how almost every place on the Earth looks exactly the same if you go shopping.

"This is the place," I say, right in front of a big clothing store after walking around for some minutes.

As usual, Jason wanders aimlessly, looking all around, while I get a shopping bag and begin filling it with stuff I like. He never shows much interest in clothes, especially not when he's with me, so he probably thinks it's boring to shop with his mother, although he doesn't dare say so.

"Why don't you try these jeans?" I ask him, holding them against his waist.

He looks at me. "Mom, those aren't really my size," he replies.

"Oh, but they are. Look, these are so you! I'm sure they'll fit you perfectly." I hold the tag up before him. "Can't you read the size?" I tease him, smiling sweetly at his expression.

He chuckles and shrugs. I pick up some colorful shirts, trying to find something he might like, taking my time and making a show of selecting each piece of cloth. Finally, I grab two pairs of jeans and hand both to him with all the shirts and T-shirts I was carrying. "Try these, honey."

I point at the fitting room and tell Jason to go in before me. I get inside with him and close the curtain behind us, which seems to upset my boy a little bit.

"Mom, can you…"

"Oh, really? Are we going through that teenage phase already? I just wanna see if those clothes look good on you, baby."

Jason shakes his head. "Nah, it's okay, I guess."

I smile widely. "Great! There's nothing I haven't seen a thousand times, sweetie. Now, take those clothes off already. I won't leave until you finish trying everything on," I announce when I sit down on the bench next to the wall, waiting patiently for my boy to undress.

Jason moves his head up and down one more time, embarrassed by the fact he can't help but stare again at my big bosoms in the white sweater. He starts removing his upper clothes and folding them neatly, exactly as I taught him to do when he was younger. His skin looks a bit pale, but his body is well-toned, showing the results of soccer training. His chest is kind of manly now, wider, and his abs are visible due to the lack of fat in his belly, but I'd say he's more of a skinny young man than a muscular boy.

I look at the mirror and I see us both reflected in it. He's standing right next to me, changing, wearing only his jeans now, holding some brownish shirt I gave him in his hand. He keeps glancing at my body, and I'm staring at his with no shame. Oh, God, he's so young and adorable that makes me feel a stirring sensation inside my still-fertile womb.

Every time I see his naked skin, I ask myself the same question: How can I enjoy looking at him so much?

I can't help but notice how he looks a lot like me everywhere in his body. His soft skin resembles mine, his light brown hair is the same color mine was at his age, and his eyes are the exact same gray-blue I have on my own iris. And his lips... Oh my God! His handsome boyish lips are only a little thinner than mine!

He looks shyly at me, and I suspect that he's not only embarrassed, but something else too.

Then he starts trying some clothes on, gazing down at the floor while he changes. At the moment, he only has his underwear on, and I look at his lean, adolescent body with fascination.

The bulge on his shorts looks semi-hard and I almost see the shape of his head.

For some reason, I feel incredibly guilty and naughty for making him do this in front of me at his age, while he's on the way to becoming a man. To stand almost completely nude and exposed in a strange space right next to his mom.

I can only imagine how the boy would react if I reached and caressed him through the fabric, feeling his dick growing under my fingers. How would he feel if I grabbed his cock and stroke it slowly, enjoying its warm flesh in my hands? What would he do if his mom, the person he trusts the most in the world, pulled his shorts down around his thighs and caressed his fourteen-year-old cock gently, squeezing firmly his sensitive glans?

He'd probably feel disgusted.

He couldn't even look at me.

Fuck, shut up!

Every time, I feel more and more sick of having this internal dialogue repeating itself in my mind all the time. I'm not sure what to think about the fact that I'm getting turned on by my own son every time he breathes.

Thank goodness, Jason keeps changing while all my perverted thoughts run through my head, and he finally has the pair of jeans I picked on. They fit him perfectly, as I predicted.

I'm never wrong about his size.

"What do you think, Mom?" He interrupts me from thinking.

"They look so good on you, sweetheart. They're perfect!"

"You like them?" he asks me.

"I do, dear," I say. "I can't wait to see you in those clothes going to school."

He takes another set of short pants and puts them on. God knows he looks sexy in them showing his legs. Oh, my world, how wrong is it to verbalize the word 'sexy' in my brain when I'm thinking about a fourteen-year-old boy? About my own boy?

"I can't believe you look so good in those, sweetie," I praise him while he admires himself in the mirror. I immediately stand up from the bench, moving closer behind him, facing the reflection, and I grab the waistband of the shorts between my long fingers. I squeeze the cloth, feeling its texture against my palms, and I start massaging the material with my fingers, while I take advantage of the situation to grope a little on his ass.

What I wouldn't give to bite this butt right now.

"They show off your shape," I say to him, while Jason looks briefly at me, and I see he's blushing again. "Your soccer butt."

"You think so?" he replies bashfully as I push my hands against his buttocks. "Okay, but... Can you not do that?"

"Oh, what, honey?"

I keep moving my hand on his butt, letting my fingertips wander across his firm cheeks. Not harshly, though, but... Casually. Slowly. In fact, in a sort of sensual manner.

"You're... You're touching it. My butt," he looks at me through the mirror.

He's confused.

I'm scaring him.

"Oh, sure, baby! I was just… checking the fabric," I respond. "You have a nice little ass, though!" I say laughing, while I release my grip.

"See? You're doing it again... Being weird with me, Mom. You shouldn't talk to me like that" he says, a little annoyed.

"I shouldn't what, exactly? Talk to you like a mother talks to her son?" I ask, smiling at him teasingly. "Sweetheart, I'm not being weird with you."

"You are!" He protests.

I shrug. "Why?"

"Because I'm not a kid anymore and you need to stop treating me like one!" he says, still looking at me in the mirror.

"Oh, baby," I say, making a long pause. "You're right about that, you're not a child anymore. You're a teenager, but you don't understand how this works. If you want me to treat you like a man, then be one."

Jason looks at me with a harmed expression that hurts my heart too.

I'm not blind and I know my words must've been painful for him, but he needs to understand that I'm his mother and I will always be acting as a mom, no matter what, until death does us part. He should understand it hurts me deeply to hear him talking back at me like a disobedient teenager, instead of the good boy I know he actually is.

"Don't look at me like a hurt puppy, honey."

I walk even closer, hugging him from behind, and looking at us through the big mirror. I kiss him on his left shoulder and I smile softly, staring at his eyes in the reflection. Jason blushes, and I make him turn around with my hands, getting him to face me now, with my arms surrounding his neck and body, holding his back.

"I'm sorry if I was too harsh," I say, looking at his big blue eyes while kissing him between his brows. "But you understand what I'm saying, right?"

"I do. I'm... sorry. I love you, Mom" he says to me, after a moment of silence, seeming calmer, relieved with the fact that his mother can say sorry too sometimes.

"I love you too, Jason."

Unable to remove my gaze from his face, I bend over a bit and kiss him on his soft lips tenderly. When I pull away slowly, he looks at me in a daze. I caress his smooth skin, almost squeezing him, and I knead the muscles of his lean arms.

I hug him, and Jason hugs me back tightly. I feel him surrendering under my touch when I make sure my fabric-covered breasts press harder on him, making him feel my heavy tits against his bare chest. He gasps at the same I feel his teen crotch hardening a little, brushing between my thighs.

A smile spreads all over my face at the feeling of an intimate embrace shared within these walls. I stare at his ass in the mirror and I admire the way my fingers travel downwards from my boy's back towards his butt cheeks, grazing lightly along them with my nails.

I want to make him shudder. I want to make him feel weak under my love and submit to me.

"See?" I whisper, close to his earlobe, stroking the short hair on the back of his skull, with a mischievous grin on my face he cannot see. I run my long fingernails through his scalp. "It feels good. Having your mom taking care of you."

"It's not bad," he admits.

"Not bad? You're lucky you've got a loving mother like me," I add, kissing the nape of his neck.

The drive to the fast food restaurant nearby doesn't take long.

The place is crowded, full of families and young people hanging out. We get inside and I tell Jason to sit down, while I go order the food for the two of us. I know he loves cheeseburgers, so I choose something I know he'll like: double cheese, extra bacon, and a big glass of Coke. He hasn't stopped drinking the damned cola since the day he tried a sip when he was seven, even if I was reluctant with my son trying such an addictive and poisoning drink that day with John's friends from work around us.

We're sitting next to each other. I notice Jason stealing glances at me again from the side of his eye, giving me the same mixture of emotions I often experience around him.

It drives me crazy.

It's overwhelming how kids change so quickly. One minute you are worried sick about whether they're eating properly enough and growing healthy, and, all of a sudden, before you realize it, everything changes: your kid becomes a teenager, he isn't a small boy anymore, he doesn't seem to need you as much, and he surprisingly starts looking at your tits every time you get distracted.

And his smell makes you want to suck his cock.

I watch Jason look furtively at my huge melons and wonder if those thoughts cross his mind too. What kind of things go through his head when he stares at my cleavage that way? Or better said, what happens in the naughty teenage fantasy world where his horny hormones take over whenever he gets near me? Is he imagining sliding his hands onto my heavy breasts and massaging them roughly, maybe feeling their weight? Are these tits on his thoughts when he wets those dirty, sticky tissues I usually find inside his bin?

Shouldn't I feel embarrassed and weird seeing my precious little son lustfully admiring my rack and my figure? Because I don't.

"What's up, sweetie? Something caught your attention?" I can't resist the idea of teasing him a bit about it.

Jason's cheeks turn red instantly. "N-n-no, nothing," he says nervously.

"You seem to like these big things on my chest," I observe, giggling slightly.

"What?! No... Mom!" he tries to laugh off the situation.

"Don't worry, baby. Your secret's safe with me," I whisper, winking at him.

I take a bite from the burger and keep watching him. He has a troubled expression on his face again.

"Mom, please stop. I'm begging you. That's just not true!" he insists, turning away.

"I know, I know! I'm just messing with you," I answer coolly, biting into my hamburger one more time.

He probably knows it doesn't matter how many lies come out of his mouth, I'm his mom and he won't ever be able to fool me. I have already seen the truth of his desires shining deep within his eyes, despite his attempts to hide them from me.

"So... Are you having fun?" I ask him.

"Yeah... I never said it wouldn't be fun spending the day with you," he admits.

"Good..." I murmur, smiling satisfied. "Do you like your new clothes?"

"They are pretty nice, Mom" he replies happily.

"Well, you know you must learn how to dress properly to look nice for other people" I explain, placing a hand on his lap, slowly massaging his thigh. "You never know what might happen, especially when you're in high school," I say, smiling wickedly.

"Y-Yeah," he responds.

My hand moves from his leg to his hip, giving him a gentle tickle. Jason smiles sheepishly.

"So, tell me, now that you've made it so clear to me that you think you're a man already," I pause, letting the words sink deeper into his ears. "Is there any girl in this new class of yours you like? And I want you to tell me the truth this time, not like last night," I inquire.

I know my son well. He can be shy and awkward from time to time, but I also know he's a hopeless romantic. He's not so different from me in that regard, but I hope he sets his eyes on someone special. A woman to take care of him, and by that I mean he should give himself fully to someone who cares, someone who can understand him and treats him well.

Someone like me.

But there's just one me.

Jason stares at me with an uncertain look, avoiding meeting my eyes directly, and swallows heavily several times before answering.

"I don't know, Mom..." He says.

"Come on, young man! I'm your mom, you can tell me anything. And you sure can't fool me," I assure him.

He averts his eyes.

"Well... There's this girl... I don't know, Mom. I think she's kinda cute," he confesses. "Her name's Amanda," he says, now staring at me, looking for approval perhaps.

And I knew it! Now I get all those questions last night.

I'm not sure why, but I feel uneasy hearing the girl's name – Amanda –, given that the only female in his life that mattered until now was me. I know he's fourteen, probably the right time to like girls his age, but, why does he suddenly care about that? About kissing? Why don't I want him to get too close to this girl if I don't even know anything about her yet?

Maybe I don't want him to get distracted from me.

It's obvious it's fucked up and selfish of me to want such things. To want my sweet, adorable child stuck home, under my roof all the time, being happy and contented here beside me.

Why do I want him all to myself? Is it because I love my son more than anyone else in the world? Is this real motherly love? Am I just being possessive? Am I jealous? Am I angry with him for becoming an adolescent wanting something for himself apart from his mom? How sad is that of me?

Shit.

I hate feeling like I'm losing my grip over Jason, and the thought of him getting closer to this girl terrifies me. It hurts so bad to feel like this. Abandoned. But why? He just likes a girl, right? I feel powerless, unable to handle these feelings, so scared that she'll break his heart if he falls hopelessly in love with her.

Because I'm afraid he may leave me behind eventually.

"Amanda? Really?" I ask him. "That's a sweet name," I smile.

Jason shrugs and looks down, still playing nervously with his fingers. "She seems nice... And she's kinda funny, but... I just don't know if she's completely my type, Mom."

Good.

At least now I know my son hasn't fallen in love just yet.

"What do you mean by 'your type'?"

"I don't know, Mom," he sighs. "I mean, she's beautiful and all. She's nice to me. She's helped me a lot with English this first week. You know that's not my best subject. But still..."

"What is it, baby?" I ask, looking him straight in the eyes.

He thinks in silence, and I wait patiently.

"It's just... Don't judge me, okay?" He stops for a moment, thinking about his next words. "She's fine, she's beautiful. Her body is nice, and sorry if this sounds disrespectful," my son excuses himself, but I nod, showing him it's alright. "But still, Mom… She's kinda plain... Up there."

I can't help but laugh instantly, feeling so much satisfaction in my chest with the meaning of that statement. It all much more sense to me now. The poor boy.

"What do you mean... plain?" I ask him amusedly while I sip my cola. "Aren't all girls around your age considered... plain?"

"Well, yeah..." he answers. "She's just... Average... I guess. I mean, her body is more like... Well-equiped in the lower part," Jason says, sounding uncomfortable.

"Oh, I see. So, you mean... She doesn't have these?" I suggest, directing my eyes toward my long, highlighted cleavage.

The fourteen-year-old gasps. "Mom, no... I didn't mean that... I meant..." He stammers. "Well, yours are… bigger. A lot bigger," he confesses. "I'm not saying... Sorry! What am I saying? I-I do like her! I mean, hers are almost non-existent! That's what I was trying to say!"

My son is definitely a boob man, and I must admit I'm not surprised to realize that. My suspicions were clear enough already.

Isn't almost every man, especially teenage boys, secretly a bit obsessed with huge tits? Of course, not every man, but many. And although I'm aware he's just a child and probably shouldn't pay that much attention to women, and women my age particularly, it makes me so excited how much he admires his mom's big assets.

One day, he'll just accept he has a huge crush on his own mother, even if he doesn't know that yet.

"Well, that's too bad," I tease my son in a tender tone, laughing. "I didn't know you like big ones like mine," I add playfully, and I stop him before he responds by grabbing his arm. "Let me tell you something. I'm usually jealous of girls like yours. My boobs aren't too convenient for daily life, you know? My back hurts sometimes and they're just... Well, too heavy. You can guess what it feels like," I continue, shaking my head and rolling my shoulders to demonstrate how large my bosoms are. "Those skinny girls… their body shapes are perfect. They're sexy without any effort whatsoever. Clothes are made for them."

I don't believe any word I say. I like my body, and I'm clearly fishing for compliments.

Hope he bites the hook.

Jason looks at me puzzled, obviously confused as to which kind of boobs he should admire most between mine and the girl he likes. "But Mom, don't say that. I think you're... Fine. You're..." He says, finding the least problematic way to say what he wants to say before he ends abruptly. "You're fine just the way you are."

I share my biggest, warmest smile with my son, and I embrace him with my arms.

"Thank you, sweetie!" I say. "Whatever you meant, I'm flattered to know my handsome young man thinks I have a nice body," I admit, smiling, shaking my boobs a little bit against him.

Am I being too obviously flirty?

"Oh, come on! You know that's not what I meant," Jason protests.

Okay, maybe I'm being too obviously flirty.

"I know what you meant!" I insist, smirking seductively and biting my lips to stop them from trembling when I pull away from him. "So... Why don't you show me a picture of that girl you like then?"

Jason frowns and shifts uncomfortably in his chair, but finally pulls out his phone from the pocket of his pants and shows me a photo of his friend, Amanda.

Her expression reveals nothing except for the normal innocence of a girl her age. She's certainly skinny, with long, wavy black hair and dark greenish-brown eyes, and there's no doubt what my Jason's talking about when he said she's pretty. But still, I see no remarkable feature in that face. There's absolutely nothing too appealing about it to me whatsoever.

I'm much more beautiful than this rawboned, average girl – the scrawny, little Amanda.

"She seems lovely, honey," I reply falseheartedly, taking a glance at the screen. "You've got good taste in girls," I add, kind of sarcastically before he puts the smartphone back into his pocket.

I can tell my son finds it awkward to talk with me right now, maybe even embarrassed, after revealing so openly how he feels about my breasts, but I can't help to push his boundaries a little bit more.

I'm naughty.

I choose to go all out.

"You just wish she was a little bit more like your mom up there, right? I know the way you look at them lately, honey," I tell him. "Come on, it doesn't have to be uncomfortable. Just admit it."

"No, Mom. I don't do that" he insists, avoiding eye contact.

He looks so ashamed right now!

I swear this kid's hopeless.

"You can't lie to me, snoopy," I nudge him with my elbow. "Don't worry, sweetie. It's not weird to look at them, okay? Men do it all the time. It doesn't make me angry at all," I assure him.

"Mom, you're embarrassing me right now," he says, visibly upset.

"There's no reason to be embarrassed, baby. If you just knew how you looked at them when you were a baby... I'll tell you this: you loved my boobs even back then, when I nursed you," I say, while I stroke his red cheeks. "There's no reason to be annoyed, you know? I like your little butt too."

"Can you please stop saying those things, Mom?!" He exclaims in a loud voice, raising his voice and shaking his head in frustration. "I asked you so many times today, and you keep behaving like I'm a ten-year-old kid or something!"

Some people in the restaurant turn their heads to look at the scene he's making. I remain silent, trying to stay calm. But my anger towards the teenager is growing rapidly right now, and I'm sure that if we were alone at home I wouldn't hesitate to slap him hard across both sides of his cute, angry face.

I frown slightly. I don't believe I heard correctly. Did my son just do that to me in front of everyone?

I stare at him, puzzled, for a few more seconds while my rage builds up.

I'm his mother!

Aren't I allowed to talk to him the way I want anymore? To show him my affection and express emotions freely without worrying whether they'll offend him? He's my son! I don't want a rebellious teenager in my house!

My boy looks at me, now worried, conscious he's fucked up. He must've seen something wrong in my demeanor.

"Mom-" he says, but I interrupt him.

"You know you're my son, right?" I say, in a quiet but angry voice, still staring at him. "My son. Mine."

I look into his eyes, but he doesn't seem to know what to say.

I get up from my chair and pick up my purse from the table. Then, before the moment I start walking to the restaurant door, I turn around and stare at my son to speak again.

"I'll wait for you in the car. I'm gonna give you a couple of minutes to calm yourself and reflect on what you did. When you come, I expect you to behave yourself in a whole different way, or I'll be very disappointed in you and there'll be consequences. Understand?" I threaten.

Jason doubts, but nods, looking like a whipped dog when I walk outside.

I open the door and leave the restaurant, walking furiously to my car, the sound of my black pumps following me.

I start the engine and put on some music, but after ten seconds I turn the radio off again. I prefer silence, I think, and I keep my eyes fixed on the restaurant while I wait for the stupid boy to come out.

Perhaps I'm just a bad mom. Maybe I'm too harsh on him sometimes. He doesn't deserve to be treated this way just because of one isolated uncalled-for comment. He always behaves so well with me, and whenever he wants to act up he tries to hide it from me. Maybe he just picked up the pieces of me being jealous of that girl.

After a few minutes, I see Jason stepping to the exit. He's walking with his head down, ashamed of himself. He looks at my car briefly as he leaves the restaurant, and sure he knows I'm watching him carefully. I follow him with my gaze, knowing he'll be afraid to look me in the eye once he's here. I feel pity and contempt for him.

He opens the car's door and gets inside. Now, in a colder light, I feel a little bit sorry for him, but also angry about what he said. We remain silent for a few seconds, but I decide to speak first.

"What was that, young man? How do you dare talk to me that way in front of everyone?" I ask him, trying to sound stern. He remains in silence, looking at everything but me. "Why did you have to embarrass me in front of those people?"

"I didn't mean to..." he says.

"But you did."

He says something, trying to defend himself, but I'm not listening to his words.

"You embarrassed me in front of all those people, and in front of the waiter. You've never talked to me that way, Jason" I continue. He's silent again, looking directly at the car's dashboard. "I'm really, really mad at you right now, Jason."

"Mom, I just told you to be less... Annoying?" He complains. "I didn't-"

I cut him off by hitting his cheek with my palm really hard, making him jump in surprise. I feel myself burning inside for doing this, but he called me 'annoying', and that makes me even sicker.

I can't help being satisfied seeing my handprint growing red on his face. He blinks several times, trying to find words to protest, but eventually, he closes his mouth, with some tears coming back through his blue-grey eye sockets, accepting the defeat.

"Did you just say 'annoying'?!" I tell him sternly. "Listen to me. I will not act any differently toward my own son. Do you hear me?"

He looks weak now, and I feel bad for slapping him, but also so relieved knowing that he felt enough fear to shut up and listen.

"I was just… trying to say you were acting too… affectionate..."

"Too affectionate?! How can a mother be 'too affectionate'?!" I yell.

He's just so dumb sometimes. I hate it when he goes against me. It feels like the worst type of treason.

"Mom, please don't get pissed off at me!" He cries, raising his voice again. "It wasn't my intention to hurt you!"

"Apologize," I command.

"But, Mom..." Jason replies.

I look around in the parking lot, just checking if there are people around who can see us. Satisfied that nobody saw us arguing, I get closer to him and grab Jason by his shirt collar.

"You will apologize to me right now."

He's sitting in his seat, looking at me in shock. His mouth remains wide open, staring at me in disbelief. I pull him forward, forcing his face near mine until our foreheads are almost touching each other.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Mom! P-Please, forgive me!" He shouts, trembling. "You know I meant good!"

And we're both breathing heavily and trying to calm down, as I let go of him slowly after some seconds. After that, I realize my hand hurts a little.

I'm sure his cheek does too.

Jason lowers his head, shaking. His shirt collar looks really messy after how I gripped it a moment back, and I'm still enraged, unable to control my feelings, but I feel so guilty since I didn't want to scare my son in the first place.

"I don't know what came over me, Mom," he says, sniffing a little and staring at the floor of the car. "I'm sorry... Please... I don't wanna fight anymore..." Jason says softly, barely audible.

I glare at him coldly, but I soften a little. I take a deep breath, affected by the fact I can't control myself when it comes to him. He clearly knows I don't like to be challenged, and he may think I'm a little crazy right now. But I can't help it and I don't know if I really care about that.

"We're going home," I say. "You're grounded for the rest of the month" I add. "I'll accept your apology... But you will promise me you'll never speak to me that way again. Ever," I tell him firmly. "And next time, you can expect worse."

Jason nods. "Yes, Mom."

"Fine," I state, satisfied with the outcome. "Now... Let's go back home."

The rest of the day is pretty weird between Jason and I.

We've had dinner together in the kitchen, which has been awkward too, especially for him, although I tried my best to make conversation. I couldn't help feeling like the worst mom in the world after hitting him earlier today and the guilt kept nagging me all day, leaving me even more tense than usual. I want nothing else except to crawl into bed and sleep forever.

But I've picked up my remaining energy reserves, and I've come to my son's room door before going to bed, wearing my pink nightgown and my sandals when I knock.

I walk in and notice he's playing video games on his computer. As usual, I stand near the entrance until he notices my presence.

"You can come, Mom," he mutters.

I stand beside him and start rubbing his neck.

"Hi, honey. Don't you think it's a little bit late to be playing your video games?" I whisper.

"I was just finishing up," he lies.

I smile, knowing it isn't true.

"I see. Come on, it's time to sleep, darling," I instruct, walking away. "Go to bed. I'll come back in five minutes to say good night."

I go to my room, I brush my teeth while looking at myself in the mirror and see that my nipples appear to be a little stiff. I really don't get why it's all damp when I put my hand under the fabric of my panties.

"Again? Stop it, Sam. For the love of God, go to your son's room, talk to him, and help your son relax a little bit," I tell the woman in the bathroom mirror. "Be nice to him. For once."

I turn out the light in my room and walk slowly, with no rush, when I enter my son's room to see he's already in bed. Jason's beneath the blanket, wearing only his underpants, as always, and still awake, waiting for me. I want to tell him so many things I shouldn't. Like how I would love to touch his body all over, kiss his lips, and lick every inch of his skin, while I play with his beautiful dick. I'd love to ask him if his big boob fetish started because of me, or if I'm the one in his thoughts when he jerks off.

But I have control over myself, I think.

Instead of doing that, I sit on the side of his bed, and one more time his glance dances all over my breasts under the nightgown.

"Did you brush your teeth?" I ask him, stroking his forearm.

He nods, lying again.

"Listen, I'd like to talk about what happened today," I tell him, hoping to ease the hostility somehow.

He sighs and opens his mouth to respond, but then decides to stay quiet.

"I know I can be too much sometimes, but I still think I'm right about earlier. Not about hitting you, I regret that already. What bothers me the most is the disrespectful way you spoke to me. I hope you know I don't have any hard feelings toward you, alright? I don't want you to end up thinking I'm a bad mom. My only wish is to protect you and to be the best mother I can be to you. I love you, and you are my everything, Jason."

His eyes are red from crying earlier today. It doesn't happen every day, and that's why he suffers so much when we argue that he wishes he could do something to make up for it. Jason always needs my forgiveness when we fight.

"I love you too, Mom. I just hoped… I hoped you'd forgive me," he admits. "I don't care being grounded. I just want you to forgive me."

I must confess I love hearing those words coming out of his mouth. He seems so needy right now, so vulnerable, that I feel bad for wanting him to stay completely dependent on me. I don't mind taking charge of his life. He needs someone to take care of him in every way possible, and I'm sure that's exactly what he expects from me too. If not, then why did he agree to live here and follow me without complaint? He's lucky enough I'm willing to take the responsibility to raise him without his father.

And if I'm honest, I enjoy being responsible for his safety and happiness above anything else.

"I do, Jason," I say. "Of course I do! I know you still struggle to deal with me sometimes, but trust me, someday you'll thank me for being this way with you. One day you'll understand."

I gently start rubbing his naked and hairless chest with my bare hand. He moans quietly, feeling my soft fingers moving through his smooth skin. My nails feel great on his surface, and my lips tremble when I give him a peck on his forehead.

Jason blushes, and I kiss him on his forehead again, this time lingering longer than before, softly, in an intimate, loving way. I kiss his cheeks, causing him to shiver, but then my lips travel downwards toward his nose, and then to his lips, as I start giving him love right there, with little pecks around the corners of his mouth.

"Mom..."

"Shhh. No complaints," I say, clawing my long nails on his little chest. I keep kissing him softly.

Another kiss.

Kiss. Kiss. Kiss... Everywhere on his face's skin.

And God, he smells just good.

"Why do you complain so much?" I say between the little pecks. "It doesn't feel bad, right?"

"No... It feels good," he replies, breathing deeply after each word, whilst I pull away just enough.

"I'm glad to hear that, baby," I say, looking at him lovingly, with my right hand stroking his hair and my other hand caressing his chest. "I understand I'm hard to deal with, but you should see I do it because I love you. You know I'm always sweet and gentle when I feel you're by my side, Jason. But I need you to be by my side."

My son's really calm and relaxed as I stroke his head, trying to make him feel my fingernails scratching his scalp lightly.

And while he's like that, I'm far from the calmness and serenity I pretend to be showing. This situation I find myself in, with my beloved child, who I cannot seem to resist, caressed by my perverted hands, makes me so extremely wet in my slit I'm afraid my panties won't have success hiding all their juices. The sight of this gorgeous young man trembling beneath me, wanting so desperately my affection and forgiveness, is sending electric currents throughout my entire body. I can hardly breathe whenever I look deep into his lovely eyes, and I'm helplessly captivated by his innocence and beauty. All these sensations make me incredibly aroused, as my pussy throbs harder than ever before.

But I restrain myself and try to remain silent for as long as possible.

"You're so, so handsome, Jason," I whisper.

My fingertips run along the delicate line formed by his eyebrows, across his nose ending in his dimple, and then down to his chin. I trace another circle on his lips, before returning to his jaw.

I glance briefly at his crotch.

Even though it's not easy to see from my position without being obvious about it, I suspect by its shape he's fully hard despite the sheets covering his lower half. I can clearly picture its size, just a little above average, and slightly thicker than I remember.

My boy looks a little more nervous when my left hand, alive on its own, slowly roams down from his pecs to his belly, and then to the waistband of his underwear, where it lingers momentarily before continuing further down. I continue to look at him in the eyes, smiling naughtily at his growing arousal and overt discomfort, until I finally slide the tip of my fingers into his boxer briefs, scratching his pubic hair with my long, manicured nails.

He groans softly, unable to hold himself together anymore. His erection jumps and twitches violently against the cotton sheet, and I feel it throbbing very close to my hand. I smile seductively at him while my index finger begins tracing circles around the top of his pubic area. My heart starts beating faster when I notice his penis grow even harder within his boxers.

"Mom?" He finally says, asking for an explanation.

"What is it? Is there something wrong?" I inquire, keeping my voice steady and composed.

"Your... Your hand," he mumbles.

And it's at this exact moment that I'm aware of the stain of precum appearing on the outside of the sheets, flowing through his shorts and the thin material.

What am I doing? I wonder suddenly, shocked by how fast and uncontrollable my desires are getting every day. What am I thinking?! This isn't right! I'm a grown woman! How dare I act this way with my son? With my precious boy?

Am I really going crazy again? Do I have some kind of sexual disorder?

What if somebody finds out about this? Or worse, what would happen if I were caught having sex with my own son? Would they put me in jail? Send him somewhere far away, or send him to foster care?

My thoughts are disturbing, they come rushing in almost as quickly as I remove my hand from Jason's stomach.

"Oh, sorry, baby! I didn't notice where my hand was," I lie blatantly.

"That's okay," he murmurs nervously. "There's… There's nothing wrong with that, I guess," he says, trying to play it cool after the fight we had today.

But the truth is I'm sure we both know that there's something terribly wrong about his mother. About what has just transpired between us. And it wasn't me alone who noticed. Jason saw everything, and judging by how red his face is right now, his constant looks at my cleavage, and his stiff cock pressed against the fabric of his boxers, I'd bet his thoughts are the same as mine.

However, I feel this motherly need to protect him from his mom.

From me.

"I'll let you go to sleep now," I tell him. "Okay? Good night, baby," I say while I kiss his forehead and get up from his bed.

"Good night, Mom," he says, getting the cushion to cover his bulge underneath the sheets.

I walk towards his door, but I stop before reaching it, turning once again.

"And... You're still grounded despite everything, understood?" I say sternly, pointing a threatening finger straight at his face, and he nods one last time for today.

I step outside of his room and lock the door behind me.

Just as I supposed, once I'm outside, I take a look at my panties and realize I'm going to need to release a lot of tension tonight, just as I've been doing for so many nights I can't even remember when all this started.

Chapter 4: Grounded

Notes:

Well, well... That's almost 12k words!

It's a long chapter, but I hope you'll love it. Next will be a little shorter, but I believe I'll have to update every two weeks instead of every single one.

Let me know that you think!

Chapter Text

I have to say my life here is much more boring than I thought it would be when we came here in the first place.

Not that I miss our previous life too much, but there were lots of things to do there, in the city, where at least I had some friends to hang out with. Here, however, I have nothing to distract me except for the traditional housewifery and the tedious accounting work I do in my little office room at home.

I'm actually working a lot harder than ever. I guess I'm using my frustrations and boredom to stay focused on my job when Jason's not home, doing everything possible to keep my mind occupied all the time. I'm finding myself pretty tired most hours lately, feeling like I'm going crazy, sleeping less than usual, and running low on energy.

And while I do that, I also work as a full-time mom, spending hours with Jason, watching TV together, taking him to school whenever he seems to be late, and helping with everything he needs. I make sure he's fed and healthy, I cook his lunch and dinner, clean his room, wash his clothes, and change his bed sheets when necessary. I even check his homework and help him study sometimes for his tests as if I was his tutor or something.

The only thing he does 'for me' is make his bed.

However, no one will hear a single complaint coming from my mouth, not even my dear son, and that's because I honestly love doing everything I can for him. I love feeling needed and loved by Jason, and I certainly enjoy being useful to him. There is a very maternal satisfaction inside me when Jason gives me a big hug and a kiss after I do something for him.

Especially if it comes with me rubbing my large breasts against his marvelous body through our clothing.

I can't help but get a bit sentimental when certain memories come to my mind. I picture Jason younger, as a kid, sending me to when we used to spend even more time together. All the time, really. We'd go take a bike ride, or to the park, where I sat under the shade of the tree and watched him have fun. Occasionally, I'd even play video games with him too when he allowed me to put my hands on the controller.

It feels sincerely great to remember those pleasant moments in my brain, knowing I raised him so well. But somehow, I become nostalgic too, because even though everyone thinks I'm a little overprotective with my son, I'm not blind, and I can see he's maturing, quickly turning into a young man.

But becoming a good, teenage boy hasn't saved him from being grounded all this time at home since we had that strong argument last month, which has been the perfect excuse to have my boy around me. And the fact that he doesn't seem to care too much about being grounded makes me kind of happy.

I suspect he might be even secretly enjoying it a bit. He'd never admit that, of course, but I think my son must revel in being with me a little more than I thought, and although I've seen no changes in his behavior whatsoever, I sense a sort of bond between us growing stronger since I divorced my husband.

The way I see it, he's not the usual teenager. Usually, and by 'usually' I mean when he isn't grounded, he doesn't leave the house unless I give him permission to do so, and rarely goes anywhere else besides his classes and practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays, since he joined town's soccer team a few weeks ago.

Normally, before he goes out somewhere, I ask him everything I need to know about where he'll be and who will be accompanying him wherever he decides to go, in case there could be any strange situations waiting for him along the way.

And whenever I ask him questions about his day, I want him to tell me everything: how classes went today, who did he hang out with at lunchtime, and everything that took place around him. It doesn't matter if he wants to talk about his teachers, his classmates, or his video games. All those things mean a lot to me, considering everything I learn helps build up my image of him as a person and keeps me informed about what's happening inside his world.

All the same, my son and my work aren't the only matters I care about these days. There's one more thing that requires my time in this new life of ours, and that's obviously pleasuring myself.

My cunt doesn't seem to care how young or innocent my boy is, and the fact that he's my son doesn't keep me from masturbating while thinking of him every day. In fact, the more I imagine him between my arms, the harder I cum. And I do it all the time, really.

Sometimes I touch myself when I'm brushing my teeth, or even while I'm preparing breakfast, and I certainly wake up burning down there every single day. After giving him a good night kiss, I usually find myself rubbing my pussy through my pajama pants minutes later in my bedroom, moaning softly while imagining that my fingers are wrapped around my son's cock, playing with him until he reaches orgasm. When I finally reach climax, my whole body shakes as I carefully scream silently into my pillows, which end up covered in my saliva.

It's like this every single day, feeling hornier each one of them as they pass by.

But I tell myself I have self-control.

Although I recognize I masturbate maybe too much for a forty-three-year-old woman, I'm also sure I'm not the only human being dealing with these issues in this house. I know my son does it too, and he does it a lot. Despite I've never caught him doing it, sometimes I hear sounds coming from his bedroom door when I'm busy working in my office. Every time I empty his bin I always find stiff toilet paper, sometimes even recently wet with cum, and when I do the laundry, his underwear has this manly scent, stained with semen drops everywhere too. He must be thinking I'm an innocent mom, too blind to see, if he doesn't know I'm very aware of how much he jerks off.

The only question left then is who he thinks of when touching himself.

I feel a strange kind of guilt when I spend my free time watching him doing his homework, or when we're reading together, curled up in the couch. And that's because while I watch him I can't stop thinking about these images I conjure during those times; vivid scenes of him sucking my huge breasts, licking my nipples, squeezing my tits roughly between his palms, and pinching my hardened nipples painfully, or burying his lips deep inside my dripping wet snatch and devouring my hot honey.

Those fantasies drive me mad with lust and love, and seeing him focused, not noticing I'm rubbing my clit beneath the blanket covering us, makes my heart ache with tenderness and longing for him.

I can't avoid thinking about the way he looks, young, sexy, and handsome. About the sound of his smooth breathing, and the way he shyly moves, looking at me lovingly as we sit next to each other. The softness of his skin, so perfect and delicate, and his angelic smile are built to melt the hearts of women. How could I ignore a young man whose charm could captivate everyone who looks at him, even if that same person came to this world from my womb fourteen years ago?

I can't.

And I hate myself for wanting him.

Now that I'm patiently waiting, seated on a not-too-comfortable chair in Mrs. Williams' office, I notice immediately she's a neat woman just by how this place looks and smells. There's a big window, with a nice view of trees, flowers and some buildings beyond.

I'm wearing a tight green dress, with short sleeves and a plunging neckline. My hair's tied up in a ponytail, making me look some inches taller than my 5'10", and my pose with my legs crossed underneath the table shows off my bare knees.

I cross them again now nervously since I don't like to wait for anyone.

When Tanya Williams walks into the room towards her desk carrying two cups of coffee in hand, I already feel nervous and anxious about what's coming next, but I still manage to greet her politely with a gesture on my face. She smiles back at me, offering my cup first.

"Mrs. Matthews, isn't it?" says Tanya while sitting "Sorry I'm late. I got held up with a few things" she apologizes.

Tanya's a pretty small lady, very slim, with shoulder-length, curly brunette hair. She must be around thirty-five, maybe forty, dressed nicely enough for a teacher, in a black skirt and a pink blouse. She's not wearing any jewelry except a simple silver necklace. Her glasses are thick and rimless, and the rest of her face seems to be rather plain aside from the cute nose she has, which perfectly matches the pair of thin lips below it.

I really liked Tanya when I met her, about a month ago, when the school year began. She looked like a nice, sweet teacher, judging by how friendly and approachable she seemed when talking to the kids. I haven't heard a single bad thing about her yet, and even when talking to her the first school day I couldn't detect any hint of dishonesty from her.

"It's nothing," I say "I understand teachers are busy people." I smile, trying to appear like a nice and friendly person, and I continue. "Well, I just came here to ask you how Jason's been doing at school," I say "I know his grades are good, but I just wanted to know how he's coping with his new school, friends, and everything."

"I think he's doing fine," says Tanya "I believe English is a subject that's a little bit difficult for him sometimes, but he always does really good despite that. He tries his best every day, and he surely learns fast. He has friends, he behaves well, he has no problems with anyone... No reasons to worry, on my behalf." She pauses her speech and takes a sip of coffee before continuing.

"Those are nice words to hear, really."

"It's the truth. I was wondering though... Can I ask you something, Mrs. Matthews?" she asks.

"Yes, of course," I answer "No need to hesitate about asking anything when it comes to my son. And you can call me Samantha."

She nods. "Not trying to be a busybody, Samantha, but... Is everything okay? Between the two of you, I mean. Are you two getting along alright?" she asks.

"Oh yeah, of course!" I exclaim "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I've heard that... I'm not judging, you know? But I've heard that you've been giving him a hard time" she says.

"I have?" I ask incredulously.

"Maybe I didn't choose my words properly," she says. "He mentions you often. He always says you're a very demanding mother with him, and I can tell he loves you very much. But..."

"But...?" I urge her, curiously, leaning forward slightly.

"I hope I'm not being too intrusive, but I heard him sometimes complain that he's been grounded for some weeks now, and I just couldn't understand how he managed. He's a very nice boy! I can't imagine a situation where he could misbehave. So, yeah, I'm concerned" she sighs deeply.

I take another sip of my coffee, pondering whether telling Tanya will be a wise decision right now. I consider lying to her, pretending everything's fine, but quickly discard that thought and decide instead to tell a superficial truth.

"He's a very sweet boy, indeed, but he broke a rule we have" I admit "So yes, he's been put under restrictions." I shrug nonchalantly, hoping she won't dig further and discover the specific reason behind that punishment.

Tanya nods. "And you've been keeping him at home all this time?" she asks.

"Yes, he's been at home most of the time, with some exceptions. It's not like he's been chained down in his room 24/7 because he did wrong once, but it's not my fault he's been grounded for a whole month" I conclude. "It's his."

The English teacher looks at me quietly, as if considering carefully what to say after hearing my explanation.

"Okay. Anyways, I suggest that, when you decide to stop keeping him grounded, he could use some more fun out of school, you know, he needs to be a little more social. He needs rewards. He could hang out with some other boys, like Alex. Your son gets on well with him, or... He gets on well with Amanda too, if you know what I mean. At his age, he shouldn't be so isolated for too long, especially at the beginning of the school year, missing all the social life I think he lacks" Tanya concludes.

Great. Now she's telling me what I should do with my own son.

I don't like people questioning the way I raise my boy.

"I'll think about it," I assure her, and I see Tanya relieved with my answer. "Thanks for your advice."

"Anytime. Just let me know if there's anything else I can help you with" says Tanya.

She stands up from her chair and I do the same. We shake hands and exchange phone numbers, agreeing to meet next month at the same time, to talk about Jason's progress at school. Then, just when I'm leaving, I can't resist turning around and asking her one more thing.

"Do you think I'm being too... Overbearing with him?" I ask, with my fingers on the door handle.

Tanya gives me an uncertain smile, then shakes her head.

"No, I don't believe that" the teacher replies, but I know she's somewhat hesitant. "You're doing just right. Jason needs someone who cares about him, and I'd say you care more than any other parent probably would, from what I see. I meet many moms and dads, as you can guess, and parents nowadays never seem interested enough in being involved in their kids' education anymore... The way I see it, your son surely trusts you, and loves you very much, I have no doubts about it... And I can tell he admires you a whole lot."

I go for a walk around town to kill time before I come back to school a while later, to pick Jason up since I'm already here. Blue River High School is at the edge of town, next to a big park, and there must be hundreds of students enrolled here since there are only three high schools available in this small city.

I wait in the car park until Jason comes out of school, walking towards the bus stop with a girl by his side. I wave at him and shout his name, so they both turn their heads. I can identify the girl, Amanda, and I see she notices me standing outside the car. He tells her something that I wish I could hear, making them start moving toward me.

"What are you doing here, Mom?" He asks me when they've almost reached me.

"Waiting for you" I answer casually. "I came to speak with Mrs. Williams, and I decided to wait for you as well, given that I was already here."

"Oh, okay" he answers nervously.

One of the things I'm struggling to control lately is how much I hate it when Jason speaks about Amanda. It hasn't been easy to hide it when he told me she's always so nice to him, that she gives him snacks during lunch times, and helps him take notes sometimes. You can imagine how I feel seeing him coming out of school with her.

"Aren't you going to hug me?" I ask, opening my arms to embrace him, and Jason steps away from Amanda and comes closer to me.

I pull him into a tight hug, smothering his face between my breasts and my neck. I know this green dress accentuates my tits perfectly, and holding my son pressed against them with the girl watching makes me a little bit excited. The smell of his fresh teenage body feels great inside my nostrils when I kiss his forehead. I feel Jason's body getting a little uncomfortable under my arms; although I know he likes me being this way, my son doesn't like to be seen like this with his mom in front of everyone, especially next to his female friend.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, sweetie?" I ask him at the same time he pulls away gently.

The girl's even smaller than I thought by the picture he showed me, but she's pretty cute, nevertheless. She's wearing tight jeans and a pink t-shirt, and her hair is tied in a ponytail that makes her look a little younger than she actually is.

"Sure. This is Amanda, Mom." Jason answers reluctantly.

I shake her hand and pretend to be glad to say hello to her, but I can't help sensing the trembling in the girl's hand. "Nice to meet you, Amanda," I say.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Matthews," she says.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I can be really rude sometimes. Please, call me Samantha... Or Sam. I'm so glad I finally got to meet you, girl. I've heard so many great things about you from my son... I'm glad you're his friend!"

I lie shamelessly, like a professional.

"Well... He talks about you a lot too!" She says.

I smile. "Oh, does he?"

"Yeah! Like every day" she adds.

"I'm sure that's because I spoil him rotten" I respond, grinning at Jason.

"I have to say you both look awfully alike though" laughs Amanda. "No doubt he takes after you."

"Thank you, Amanda. That means a lot for a mom like me!" I laugh heartily, feeling extremely flattered by her compliment. I grab my son by the hand, pulling him towards me again and I feel ready to take my son home. "Well, it was nice meeting you..."

"Hey! Mom, wait" my son stops me from leaving. "I... I was thinking… Well, you know, since Amanda invited me over to her house today... I'd like to go, if you don't mind, Mom. I thought maybe you wouldn't let me go, but I wanted to ask you anyways..." He says with puppy dog eyes.

Amanda's staring at me too, but when I look at her, her eyes drop to the ground quickly.

"What for, baby?" I inquire.

"She's going to help me with English homework," he says.

Oh, yeah, that's a classic. The two teenagers hanging out to study together at home. I know how that ends.

"You're still grounded, young man," I tell Jason.

"Until last Sunday, remember? You promised" he answers quickly.

Oh, shit. I forgot I made that promise. It's been a whole month already?

How should I handle this? This is my son here, asking me something important, begging me for permission despite knowing full well where those words might lead him to. Should I be brave and play the good mom, letting him go to that girl's house? Or should I do what I feel, stay strong, and keep that little slut away from him?

I'd happily pick the second option, but his goddamn teacher respectfully advised me to give him a little more freedom from now on, just like my sister says too.

I really don't want to ruin his friendship with Amanda, although it looks like it's exactly what I want. Well, I wouldn't mind if that happened, but I don't want him to think it was me who ruined their relationship. On the contrary, I hope that, eventually, she'll grow distant from him once she notices he doesn't actually like her, and in fact, that may even work out much better if it happens in a natural way, as long as Jason decides to choose wisely.

"So... What do you think, Mom? Can I go?" Jason asks.

I take a deep breath and exhale heavily, while I switch stares between my son's pleading face and the small brunette girl beside him, looking anxious all along.

"I say OK" I announce, while my son smiles and looks at Amanda in a funny way. "But... Only on one condition: she comes to our house, and not the other way round. I prefer to have you two within my own territory, between my walls. Understood?"

Both teens nod, without hesitation.

I hope I don't regret letting this girl anywhere near him.

The doorbell rings and I answer the entryphone. My son seems a bit nervous about Amanda's visit. He's not the only one though.

I'm feeling a little uneasy about it too, but I have everything ready to look like a good mom: drinks, food, and Jason's room cleaned up and organized to make a good environment for studying.

"Hi, Mrs. Matthews" Amanda greets me in a low voice the moment I open the front door.

"Amanda! Welcome to our humble home!" I exclaim. "Please, come inside."

The girl has changed the clothes she was wearing before, and now she's dressed in an unremarkable pair of black jeans, sneakers, and a shirt. Her hair's down instead of tied up, falling straight past her shoulders, and she smells faintly of shampoo. She looks around the house carefully, before walking further into the living room.

"I'm coming!" Jason shouts from upstairs since he's not ready yet for his friend. "Just one second!"

I lead Amanda into the sofa area, and we sit down, observing each other carefully. She takes a seat opposite me while we wait for my son, and I immediately sense Amanda's tension growing. She's trying to smile and relax, but she doesn't succeed to show calmness and her body language betrays her unease.

"Thank you so much for inviting me over, Mrs. Matthews. I'm so glad I can spend some time with Jason" she says nervously.

She seems very polite and soft-spoken when she talks to me, which makes me even more suspicious of her intentions. I wonder whether her kindness is genuine, or she's putting up a fake friendly mask just to gain access to my son.

"You're welcome, honey" I reply warmly. "But you came here to study, right?"

"Yeah! Absolutely" she responds immediately.

Amanda smiles at me, showing me her perfect teeth, almost like porcelain white. She's beautiful according to standards of beauty, I can't deny that to her if beauty can possibly be unbiased. But to me, she's the ugliest girl in the world right now, and nothing she could do would change this perception I have at the moment. I can see her trying to hide her insecurity, and she probably wants to impress me to win my approval somehow, but she won't fool me.

I know how girls behave.

During the rest of our conversation, I try to sound friendly and casual, not showing that I really don't approve of her presence, and I ask her some questions about her life, the classes she's taking, and her hobbies. The whole situation feels stilted and forced to me, and I wish Jason had come downstairs already, but at least she keeps talking so I don't need to make idle chitchat myself.

Minutes later my son shows up, dressed in a white polo shirt and blue jeans, with his brown hair looking kind of messy but good, and I see he's tried to comb it and fix it to look casual. His appearance is giving me a hard time, and if someone asked me to describe him with words, I would simply call my son gorgeous and adorable.

Why would he dress so handsomely for this girl and not for me?

Why does he like this girl so much? Her tits, if you can call them that way, are almost inexistent, just as my son told me over a month ago, and she's just so small and pathetic compared to me that I almost pity him because of his taste. No matter what she wears, she'll never match my curves. However attractive he may think she's, physically speaking, I am so far superior to her that there isn't even a comparison possible.

Why does my son find her appealing enough to date her? It must be something else than just physical attraction, I'm sure of it. Something deeper than that, although I still don't understand what exactly. Perhaps he feels manlier beside her, and it comforts him to have a small, weak, and unremarkable girlfriend who needs his protection against the world.

They say hi to each other and she asks him to show them his room, so they walk upstairs together, and I follow them with my gaze.

"Keep your door open as I told you before, honey!" I tell Jason while he grabs Amanda's forearm.

"Ok, mom!"

I approach the stairs, remaining on the first floor, so I can hear them talking quietly in his room. But even if I overhear her voices, I can't really understand what they're speaking about.

For the next hour or so, they continue to talk a lot while they study together. They whisper to each other often, Jason reads aloud passages from his textbooks, and Amanda seems to follow along well to help him with English stuff. Sometimes, I hear the girl making Jason laugh, exchanging comments, and giggling at his jokes sometimes too. At times I can even distinguish snatches of sentences, like 'that's so true' or 'I didn't know that', which makes them sound simple because of their stupid tone of voice, but most of the time I can't identify any word they say.

The whole situation is making me burn inside in anger. I hate listening to my son talk that way to another girl, knowing that both are laughing and having fun together. It hurts my ears and irritates me terribly hearing their sweet laughter mixed with her polite, shy voice making corrections from time to time.

I wish he'd stop being so naïve and get rid of this little bitch at once.

He doesn't laugh that way with me.

I'd love for him to fall head-over-heels in love with me instead, rather than wasting his precious youth playing games with some teenage, pathetic girl. But no matter what I do or how much I nag him, he doesn't seem to get any of the hints I drop. Maybe this girl will finally break through his innocence and teach him the value of real female companionship.

That thought scares me a big deal, and I struggle desperately not to allow these feelings to overwhelm my judgment completely.This seems so unfair to me!After all, I've sacrificed for his sake…

I gave birth to him, I took care of him when he was a child, protected him until he grew strong and healthy, and educated him to become the sweet young man he is now. And now I'm fighting against this new little bitch that's trying to steal him away from me. She wants to make him less dependent on me.

I deserve my son adoring me above everyone else. If anyone deserves him, it's definitely me!

Did I put so much effort into raising this boy so some girl can come and reap the benefit of my work? How dare she?! I shouldn't have let her enter the house at all!

Right now, I feel like a minor character in this story. My role in my son's life has been reduced to the level of a single mother, nothing more; just a stereotypical figure that exists solely to raise her child and be there for him whenever he needs it. But I know I'm much more than that. I'm a person, with dreams and aspirations of my own. I have desires and emotions, and they're pretty clear to me right now... I deserve much more than this silly little whore!

But forbidding him to see her would just make me look like a jealous, crazy, bitter old woman, and it wouldn't solve the problem either. I don't want my son to grow distant from me because of my decisions, so I'll have to mark my territory in a whole different way.

It's time to take action.

It's time to think of a plan.

I grab some of the snacks with the tea I prepared before and set it all on a small tray in the kitchen. I head upstairs to my son's bedroom and I knock gently on the open door. They look at me suddenly, both teenagers are already seated on Jason's bed and looking at their laptops while they do homework.

"Hey, guys, I bring a snack!" I announce cheerfully.

"Oh yes, thank you Mrs. Matthews!" Amanda replies.

"Yea, thanks Mom," says Jason.

I place the tray on his desk, then I pull aside the curtains hanging over his window to let the light in. I sit down on the edge of Jason's bed, right next to him, and I start rubbing my hand slowly on the surface of his back.

"How's the study going?" I ask the teens.

"Fine," says Jason.

"Are you getting any results?" I probe further.

"I hope so" he answers shyly.

"He's just humble. He's doing great Mrs. Matthews" says Amanda.

"Oh really? Well, I'm not surprised!" I say while sliding my hand under his polo shirt, now caressing his back skin to skin.

I can feel Jason flinching slightly beneath my fingers, and I wonder whether his body is reacting to my touch or maybe it's because of my tone of voice. Either way, my actions are effective, and his expression tells me he's embarrassed again, but I decide to overlook his emotions for a moment. Instead, I tenderly kiss his neck, and then bite a little his skin, teasing him, enjoying the softness of his smooth flesh.

There's a moment of silence when I pull away and see Amanda looking at us in a weird way, but the girl says nothing.

Now caressing his back with one hand, I put my other arm around his belly and begin stroking his hips softly, embracing him and burying my nose in his thick, brown hair. I squeeze my arms around him and let my fingers trace lightly over the contours of his buttock, squeezing slightly, not being too obvious, but letting him feel my touch on his side.

"Mom..." Jason says, almost frozen, but trying to subtly to move away a little from me.

"What's wrong?" I ask in a teasing manner. "Okay, okay! I'll leave you two to study."

"Thanks, Mom," he says.

With those last words, I stand up, leaving the couple alone to continue working on their assignment. Once I turn to leave, however, I realize I forgot my phone somewhere in my son's room. So, I rush back into the room, and I notice the evident boner below my son's pants.

"Sorry, honey! Forgot this thing here," I explain when I see my cell phone on his bed, and as I bend forward to pick it up, closer and closer to him, I let my son have a good view of my jiggling cleavage, which he immediately stares at, looking hungrily at the flesh between my bra cups. The sight arouses me greatly, and I smile at seeing him so mesmerized by my huge bosom.

When I reach out and grasp the device, I stand up and kiss his forehead before leaving the room.

As soon as I reach the kitchen downstairs, I lift my green dress and insert my hand in the inside of my underwear, touching my swollen clit, and moaning quietly. My nipples are rock solid, and my breathing becomes deeper while I rub myself feverishly for a few minutes, relishing the sensations running through my entire body as I picture the image of my son, studying with this girl, cock hard thinking about his mom's big tits and soft touch.

I changed into something more comfortable than the dress I was wearing before: a simple white button-down collar T-shirt, paired with some tight sporty leggings. We're all sat down at the living room table when I serve the delicious meal I've cooked for them.

Tonight's menu features spaghetti Bolognese since I want to give a treat to the teenagers; something special after spending most of the afternoon studying. Jason loves the food I cook, and he never complains, so I'm confident it'll please him tonight.

Amanda's agreed to stay for dinner. All part of my plan.

"Does it taste good, sweetie?" I ask my son. He's still chewing and swallowing mouthfuls of pasta rapidly. His cheeks bulging.

"It tastes amazing, Mom!" he gushes enthusiastically.

"I guess a mom's cooking expertise is unbeatable," I say, while glancing briefly at Amanda, trying to see how she reacts.

She's silent for a second, but the girl knows that she must respond positively to me whenever I speak if she intends to maintain any kind of friendship with my son.

"Absolutely, Mrs. Matthews," she says. "This spaghetti taste delicious!"

I learned this recipe from an Italian chef I dated back in my twenties, many years ago, and it became my husband's favorite dish with time when I cooked for him. Now I prepare this traditional homemade pasta delicacy every Thursday night. It's a perfect dish for days like these: easy and simple to cook, but rich in flavor.

"Mom," Jason calls for my attention. "Amanda and I were planning on watching a movie after dinner."

That statement takes me by surprise. This wasn't part of my plan at all.

"Oh... I thought Amanda said she'd leave after dinner" I say.

Jason scratches his hair nervously. "Yeah... But we thought watching something downstairs could be fun" he murmurs.

Well, time to improvise now.

"No problem," I say calmly, smiling at both teens. "I'll make popcorn and soda for you guys" I announce to them, standing up from the table.

"Cool, Mom! Thanks" says Jason happily.

As soon as we finish dinner, I begin preparing everything for them, while Jason and Amanda head toward the TV in the living room. The lights are low in the living room, and the curtains are closed, letting only faint light from the streetlamps through the window. They seem excited to do something together outside of schoolwork, and I know exactly why. I follow them with my eyes into the living room and watch as they sit next to each other on the couch, browsing through the catalog now.

I walk slowly between the counter and the stove, placing a bag of freshly popped corn into the large bowl, and I add the butter and seasonings I bought at the grocery store earlier in the week, after pouring the hot caramel liquid on top of it. As I reach the sofa with the bowl, I see them sitting there, still exchanging words about some Batman movie.

I bet they're not expecting what comes next.

I put the bowl with the popcorn on the coffee table, and since they're sitting close together, I plop down right next to Jason, living him in the middle of the couch, between his mom and Amanda.

"What are we watching, then?" I ask, with a big smile on my face.

Both teens look at me in beautifully clear disbelief, just for a short time, since quickly Amanda turns her gaze down. I bet she must be furious deep inside now, but her politeness forces her to act normally, answering without betraying the emotions raging in her mind. I put a blanket over Jason and me, leaving the girl knowingly uncovered, expecting she wouldn't dare complain about being left cold at the moment.

"Uh... We were planning to watch the new Batman movie" Amanda whispers.

"Oh, really?" I question, looking at Jason. "I thought you didn't like Batman. You always say he's the worst superhero ever."

Jason shrugs and seems unsure of himself. "Well, he does suck pretty bad, since he has no real powers, but I mean, Amanda likes it and..."

"All right," I say. "We'll give it a try."

The movie begins shortly after, and to my surprise, the movie's quite good. I usually dislike superhero movies, but this one is better than expected.

At some point later, I notice the silly girl moving on the sofa. I turn my head a little and see that she's leaning closer to Jason, until she rests against his shoulder, trying to snuggle with my son.

This is a game I know very well, having played it plenty of times with boys throughout the years. I act calm when Jason notices I'm staring at them, and I smile to him, patting his leg under the blanket to let him know everything is fine. After that, I continue watching the movie or pretend to do so, because I just can't pay attention to what's happening on the screen anymore.

How far should I let Amanda go with my son? How much am I willing to tolerate this kind of behavior from her toward my son? Is there any way I can stop this from happening? Probably I shouldn't interfere, even if I'm sure he feels the girl moving on his shoulder, with her breath blowing across the side of his neck and his shoulder. Does he even realize the girl's intentions with him, acting in those girly ways? I mean, it's too obvious for God's sake!

Jason suddenly turns towards Amanda, probably to tell her something or make some funny comment, but before he does, I instinctively grab his jaw and make him turn to look at me, not at her. And now that he's doing exactly that, confused, I don't know what to say, really.

"Are you liking the movie so far?" I ask him, with a huge smile.

My heart is beating wildly, knowing that my son's looking kindly into my eyes, trying to read my intentions. One more time, I'm overwhelmed by his handsomely young face, and my pussy aches again from the arousal spreading through my whole body. I let go of his jaw, and I caress the back of his neck gently, moving my fingers up along his hairline.

"Yeah..." he answers, hesitating slightly.

"I guess you like Batman after all, huh?" I continue.

"I guess I do like this Batman," says my son, with a shy smile.

Using my long nails, I softly trace his scalp behind his ears, making circular motions near his earlobes, feeling the silky strands underneath my fingertips. I continue to stroke his hair with my right hand, while I put my other hand on his left arm, caressing the surface of his smooth skin.

Not too long after that, Amanda's position changes a little, removing her head from his shoulder and moving aside from him just enough. The sudden change makes me catch her eye, and the message I expect she gets from my look right now is that she should get used to this.

Jason moves closer in my direction. I grab his forearm and put it below my breasts, leaning forward so our heads come touching together. My fingernails scratch lightly over his skin, I hope to send pleasant chills throughout his body, and I press my lips to his cheek. He may be feeling a little weird now, but I'm pretty sure that the ease he feels from my touch is worth any discomfort he might have felt moments earlier.

And my panties are getting moistened by the juices dripping down between my pussy lips.

"You have such lovely hair... So soft" I whisper almost into his ear, making sure the girl doesn't hear me, and stroking his silky brownish locks. "It's been ages since your last haircut, honey. But this medium-length messy style looks so good in you too. So thick and healthy, and smells wonderful too" I add, kissing the side of his neck.

He doesn't say anything else, even though I move my left-hand fingers upon his arm, cupping his biceps and holding his shoulder. Then I slowly travel to his belly and slide my hand under his polo shirt once again, but this time rubbing his chest a little, brushing my fingernails sweetly over his flesh, and I see his nipples grow hard instantly, pressing against the fabric of his clothes.

Amanda, still on the other end of the couch, gazes away from us shyly when I look at her, not saying a single word, and a small, wicked smile escapes from my mouth.

I bet none of us has a clue about what's happening in the movie.

I run my nose up and down his throat. When I'm done, I bring my lips almost inside his ear to whisper something "Why don't you get more comfortable, baby?" I tell him in a hushed voice.

Jason nods slowly, prisoner of some motherly spell, and I rest my back on the comfy combination of the armrest and the cushion. Then, my son doesn't resist when I pull him tightly to my bosoms, making him rest his head over the enormous surface on the upper part of my boobs, where he loves to be, and I give him a good squeeze. I lift my hands to his chin, and tilt his head upwards, until his eyes meet mine, to plant another soft peck on his forehead before running my fingers through his hair again.

Amanda looks at us briefly, not exactly shocked, but definitely confused by the fact that I'm hugging my son against my breasts in a… Weird way, at his age, right next to her. My breathing is deep, and as my chest fills with air, it forces my son's head to sink even deeper into my cleavage. My nipples ache beneath the thin fabric of my clothes, and my pussy seems to be even wetter now that I see the jealousy and confusion on Amanda's face.

This weird scene is quickly interrupted by the girl's voice, who seems unable to stay quiet any longer.

"Wow!" She says, her face lightened up by her phone's screen "I didn't know it was this late!" Amanda says in a nervous voice. "I should probably go home now."

"Are you for real? Why so suddenly?" My son asks as if he woke up from a dream.

My eyes go wide, while I look at her getting up and putting her shoes on again, and my son sits up as well.

"There's still an hour left of the movie, Amanda," I say, smiling sweetly to cover the malice on my face.

"Yeah! I know, but... I should leave now" Amanda repeats, grabbing her backpack and moving towards the living room door.

"Hey! But... Wait! I'll walk you home" Jason offers whilst he stands up, now following the girl timidly.

Amanda stops at the entrance of the living room and turns her head towards him, exchanging glances between the couch and my son's face. Then she shakes her head nervously and speaks. "There's no need, Jason. It's... It's a small town, you know?"

My son looks puzzled and concerned at that moment, and I hope he doesn't look at me now since I'm afraid my facial expression reveals my true feelings, as my satisfaction intensifies.

"Okay then..." he answers finally, lowering his gaze.

"Bye!" The girl says and opens the front door to leave with a quick wave goodbye just as she reaches it.

As soon as the front door slams shut, I stand up as well, and I throw my arms around Jason's waist from behind, squeezing him tightly against my torso.

"Seems like she didn't like the movie, sweetie," I say, kissing the top of his head, which feels natural, since I'm still one or two inches taller than him, my breasts crushing against the upper part of his back. "She looked upset."

Jason remains silent.

"Are you okay?" I give him a light shake.

"Yes. I think so..." Jason answers, looking down.

I move both of my hands once more under his polo shirt, digging my claws into the firm flesh of his abs. "Your cute girlfriend was pretty weird, wasn't she?" I say, pressing my hips harder against him, and he shivers with goosebumps on his back.

"She's not my girlfriend" he replies, shaking his head.

"I know, baby. I'm just teasing you, silly" I let him free.

Then my boy turns to me and gives me a sad glare. "But I like her, Mom!" He complains, moving his arms in wild gesticulation, and walking back to the sofa.

I follow him there, sitting down by his side, and caress his back with my right hand. "Oh, baby... I thought you said she wasn't exactly your type" I tell him, pretending that I'm worried.

Jason lowers his gaze sadly and sighs heavily. "Well, maybe she is after all... I really like her personality, mom. I like everything about her!"

"Maybe..." I repeat, turning him sideways and wrapping my left arm around his shoulders, pulling him closely against me, and kissing the side of his face. "Maybe you're just confused, Jason. Let me tell you something: after seeing her up close I don't think..."

"What?" He asks, looking at me while pulling back.

"I mean, she's not that pretty, is she?" I answer him, staring into his eyes deeply.

My son pauses a few seconds, and then shakes his head in disbelief "What do you mean, mom? Of course, she is!"

I hide my giggle, enjoying his reaction a little. "Really?" I say mockingly, "Do you realize how lucky she'd be to go out with a boy like you? You're far more beautiful than her, sweetie! Don't you see? She doesn't deserve a handsome young man like you! Would you really fall in love with a girl much less attractive and clever than you? You deserve better!"

Jason gasps. "Mom... You can't be serious right now... Why are you telling me this? I like her! That's what matters" He exclaims excitedly before continuing "You never liked her, did you?" He stares at me incredulously. "She's beautiful, and everyone in class thinks so too..."

I sigh deeply. "I guess at your age, when you like someone, you can't see all the flaws and... I mean it, why would you wanna date her? She's polite for sure, a nice girl, but she looks... Weak and scrawny, and..."

"I think you're jealous, Mom" my son interrupts me, with an upset voice. "I saw how you were looking at her all the time when she was speaking to me."

I frown angrily "Jealous? No. I'm only concerned about you, Jason. Why would I be jealous?" I ask, pretending to be confused.

"Because she has my attention, mom!"

...

I stare at him with a cold look on my face, while I remain silent for some seconds, trying to process the words Jason just said to me.

What the fuck is wrong with these young people nowadays, really? I mean, what happened to common sense? I'm just trying to help him, like any mom would, can't he see that?

Even if I'm jealous, and God knows I am, I'm sure this girl isn't worth any time my son wastes on her. Isn't that supposed to be the purpose of parenthood anyway? To guide our children in life and teach them how to deal with all kinds of new situations along their path through adulthood?

A mother knows best, for the love of God! And that's not figuratively speaking!The reason why I'm telling him all this is to protect him! I don't want him to date some stupid girl who doesn't know how to actaround him.

But apparently, my son doesn't seem to be able to see that, and all that he sees is a controlling, jealous mom that wants to shelter him against his will. How can he be so blind? Am I losing my mind?

I take a deep breath, tired of fighting with him lately even if I'm furious and sad right now. There seem to be a few things looking pretty evident right now: one being Amanda and my son have feelings for each other, even if that thought makes me burst into tears when it crosses my mind. That girl... I can't help but imagine how fun it would be to hurt that poor girl, to show my superiority above her, and let her know she won't get away with playing games with my son.

The second thing is I can't hide my obsession with Jason anymore and my feelings are too strong to be ignored now. I've tried everything to keep those desires hidden away from others, but it seems impossible. They must be obvious even to Jason, who's able to see my jealousy and possessiveness clearly, although he might not understand why I react like that.

I know my son's heart should belong to me, to his mom, and I'm sure deep inside his soul he knows that. And if he doesn't, I need to make sure he'll understand, since I don't intend to let anyone steal my baby from me. I'm his mother, and he needs me more than he needs any other woman in the world, so I am going to show him who's the most important person in his life.

He needs his mom's love more than ever now.

"You're gonna ground me again, aren't you? Mom, I didn't mean to upset you, I just..." He asks, interrupting my thinking.

"No. Not today, sweetheart" I reply, trying to sound as normal and casual as possible, though my voice is slightly stern. "I know that doesn't work on you... I don't want you to get grounded for another month, like last time. That wouldn't make sense and you don't deserve it. You're a good boy, Jason, but I certainly don't like you talking to me that way..." I continue, keeping calmness between us both, "I think there's something that's going to help a lot more, and that's a real mother-son talk."

My son nods slowly and stands still, sitting next to me, without saying anything further or moving anywhere.

I place a comforting hand on his shoulder "You're so special to me, honey. But you need to understand I'm not jealous because she has your attention, or whatever you think, even if I strongly believe she doesn't deserve your time. But it's your life, and I respect your decisions" I explain, probably not telling the truth. "I want to keep you safe from... From some things you do sometimes, you know? I'm sure you don't see it, but you can make big mistakes when you're young. And I know you, baby. I know you better than anyone in this world. Maybe you like this girl now, but that won't last long when you see what I see."

Jason's eyes seem to stare at me in a puzzled way, his brows furrowed. "M-Mom, I-"

I pause him there briefly and open my arms. "Come here again, let me hold you."

My boy moves closer to me, and wraps himself tight in my arms, accepting my arms without any objection. I press my lips against the crown of his head when he comes back to our position five minutes earlier, with him between my arms and his head on my breasts.

"Do you trust me, honey?" I ask him, placing my left hand on top of his, bringing it to my mouth, and kissing his soft palm.

"Of course, Mom..." He murmurs, nodding slowly.

"You know I don't want you to be in pain, don't you, sweetheart? You know I just want the best for you" I say, running his thumb across my lips. "And I have to confess that I was a little bit worried about this girl when I met her today," I tell him, stroking his thick hair with my other hand. "She's trouble, baby. I can tell by just looking at her. You can call it intuition. It's something you'll learn with time: how to rightfully judge people. But that's a talent I can't teach you, honey; you'll understand by yourself, and until then, I can only give you some good maternal advice. If you want to date this girl, well… Just be careful about it. Keep an eye out and be sure you know her well before you decide."

Jason remains quiet and I kiss his forehead tenderly, making my boy struggle between my generous tits, as he always does, and I can see him blushing when I hug him tightly, ensuring he feels my enormous breasts against his face and neck. He trembles under my embrace, and I'm able to sense the heat rising from his chest, burning through the fabric of his shirt.

I keep running my fingernails through his hair, scratching lightly his scalp, going down to his back, and then backward to his head until stopping at the base of his spine again. Then I move forward, doing so along his entire back gently, almost tickling him.

Later, when my fingertips touch his skin directly underneath his shirt, I pause for a moment, breathing calmly on top of my son's head, and then I slide my claws beneath his trousers and his underwear, touching lightly the top of his soft, hairless buttock, which makes him moan loudly, gasping for breath.

I need to show him who loves him the best. I need to help him do the right thing.

"Everything okay, baby?" I question him.

"Nothing, Mom... It's just..."

Jason shows his tension, and I can tell he's shy to tell me what's making him shiver. But I already know.

"Come on, honey. Tell your mom what's troubling you, please?" I coax him. "Don't be shy with me."

"Your... Your hugs are always the best, Mom."

A gentle laugh escapes from my mouth, and I continue to stroke my fingers along his buttcheeks' smooth skin, scratching with my nails. "I know, baby."

I chuckle quietly and rub my nose against his hair, breathing in his scent. My vision blurs, feeling the titillation embraced by my pussy lips, so damn excited by touching my son's ass, feeling his warm, firm body pressed against mine while holding him closely, his legs between mine.

"Come here, give me a kiss," I whisper in his ear.

Jason hesitates before moving a little closer, upwards, brushing his hardening rod against my legs while moving, to meet my lips and give me my much-needed peck on my mouth. His expression is unreadable, but he still smiles weakly afterward and leans against my shoulder, yearning for his mother's support. I hold his jaw one more time now, so I can keep kissing him on his mouth, giving him love with my lips.

Seconds later, I move my motherly kisses to his nose, then to his eyebrows, and finally, down to his jawline and neck, until I find Jason's earlobe, and nibble on it, licking the lobe delicately with my tongue, kissing all his sensitive spots.

"Mom, you're making me... I-"

I put my finger on top of his closed mouth, shushing him softly. I grab onto both sides of his face with both hands and lift his chin towards mine as I bring my lips to his again. "Remember what I told you last time when you asked me about what kissing felt like?" I ask him, expecting he won't know what I'm talking about, then I put a little peck on his nose again.

He looks so young and handsome between my mature hands.

"I... Don't know, Mom...?" he stutters.

I can't stop now. I know I can't stop now.

It's too late.

I laugh, taking his earlobe between my teeth again, playing with it a bit. "I said that..." I move my face away a little to look at him in the eyes. "Kissing your girl isn't that different from kissing your mom" I remind him. "You didn't seem to understand then, but today..."

Not letting him enough time to react, I kiss his lips again, but this time I bite his lower lip softly, in a loving but passionate manner, causing him to try to pull away for a moment. I grab him tight from behind his neck, forcing his face against mine again, so I can lick his lips and suck them softly, in a sensual manner. I grasp his ass harder now, sinking my claws into him, making him whimper and tremble even stronger. Then I catch his lip between my teeth, harder this time, before moving onto his cheek and ear, and later back to his mouth, devouring it wantonly. Jason moans into my mouth, his hands holding onto my shoulders.

While I'm stealing my son's first kiss, I take note of where his teenage cock is, hard against my low belly. When I come up for air, I notice his cheeks and his whole face beet red, on the edge of disturbance.

"Mom! What…" He grunts, trying to push me away.

"Shhh," I whisper into his mouth, kissing him.

I can't let him go right now, and I certainly won't stop licking his soft teen mouth, still closed. I keep holding his nape, stroking his scalp with one hand, while squeezing and kneading his beautiful ass cheeks with the other.

"Ahhhh..." he breathes, arching his back to escape from my hold, but he moans louder and his resistance becomes weaker every moment.

I know he wants this as much as I do.

He's just a little scared.

But I think there's no need to be scared when you're in your mom's arms.

"Mmmm..." I sigh, looking at him while kissing.

My son's big, beautiful blue eyes are open, just as mine are too. His pupils are dilated and his breath is shallow, looking at me directly in the eyes, in bewilderment, kind of afraid, but his expression shows he has mixed feelings about this.

I can see, feel and breathe his arousal growing inside his pants and underwear, which makes him squirm under my palm when my left-hand runs from his head to the smooth fabric of his pants.

I graze my claws all along the length of his rigid penis, rubbing my fingernails on it, making it throb wildly.

He gasps, closing his eyes briefly, but then opening them again and staring deeply into mine. "Mom... This is..." he sighs.

I stop kissing him for a moment I stare at him, drinking at the sight of my gorgeous, young boy, with his teenage body. His hair is a little messy because of my stroking, but his face is so adorably blushing.

I wish I could think straight right now.

I want him more than anything else in this world and I wish I could ravage him like I don't care about consequences. And there is absolutely nothing he can do about it, not only physically, but also mentally; Jason will never ever win against the power I have over him, and I'm completely sure of that.

Carrying on with my touch, with one hand scraping his ass and my other palm rubbing on the fabric over his fourteen-year-old manhood, I press my body against him once again, pushing his hips firmly towards me. "Honey, please, please, please..." I tell him while I caress his beautiful cock throughout the smooth textile. "Please, baby, can you open your mouth? Just for one minute" I ask him.

My son hides between my neck and my head, not letting me see his face when he speaks. "But... This is wrong... You're... You're my mother!" he says nervously.

I remove my hand from his ass, and place my fingers under his chin, lifting his head up and pushing him closer towards me again, forcing my son to look at me in the eyes.

"Come on, Jason. Please... I know you'll like it. Just let yourself go" I beg him. "You don't want to make me upset, do you?" I say, kind of smiling, but with a serious character on my face.

My son's eyes are fixed on me. His face is flushed pink, blushed with concern, but still, his heart rate is rising rapidly, showing how badly he desires me, but also his nervousness.

He nods yes, trembling with uncertainty.

Jason hesitantly opens his mouth at once, but the very moment I lean forward to kiss him, he suddenly turns his face away one more time, hiding his face behind his shoulder. My panties are so wet and drenched that I feel like I could cum any moment even though I'm not touching myself yet.

"No... Mom. I don't know if we should... We're making a mistake" he whispers.

"Honey..." I begin, leaning forward to kiss him.

I press my lips to his and I feel him relax a bit, not trembling as tense as he was before. He allows me to kiss him now, while I hold his head from behind and caress his rod slowly, tenderly, in a motherly way... The only way a mother can rub her son's shaft.

He doesn't have the willpower to resist anymore, so I keep kissing him, and soon my tongue's pressing into his lips, almost feeling the perfect line of his white teeth. Then, he opens his mouth again awkwardly, just enough, this time allowing my tongue to enter his hot, wet mouth cavity.

"Let your tongue out, sweetie," I say, and it sounds like a command even if it's not my intention, still pulling my son's face toward mine.

Jason obeys, letting his wet flesh run freely out of his mouth, and I suck it hungrily, like I haven't eaten in days.

The first sensation is warm and moist, but the taste hits me immediately; a mixture of salty saliva with some traces of mint toothpaste and a small, not unpleasant, hint of popcorn. It's his flavor that makes my mouth fill with his essence and both my throat and my cunt start tingling with my discharges. My mind is blank right now thinking of nothing else besides kissing my son, and the delight I craved for months, now turned into reality.

My baby is really clumsy and nervous with his mouth and tongue, which makes the scene even more exciting. He doesn't have the experience to deal well with the situation, but honestly, what kind of boy would if his mom started kissing him the way I'm doing it right now?

He kisses me weakly and hesitantly at first, but after some time, I sense him getting a little more comfortable with me, maybe as much as I am. The longer the kiss goes on, the better he gets, quickly learning from his mom's moves.

After a few minutes like this, his mouth moves more involuntarily, following my rhythm and movements, with me leading the way between us. His arms hang loose around me, and his eyes stay fixed on my own, opening and closing at the sight of his mom exploring his mouth.

His tongue doesn't dare enter my mouth yet, but mine is brave for us both, already deep in his cavity, searching for something that seems to be lost somewhere down below, while my left hand keeps examining the shape of his still-covered cock, more and more familiar with it every second.

I break the kiss, both of us exhausted, pussy extremely wet. But then, at the peak of passion from kissing my son, a new feeling affects me in a sudden but unpleasant surprise. A feeling I wasn't experiencing until now.

Maybe I thought I was more ready than I actually am for this.

But I know something's wrong.

Something's wrong.

Something's wrong with me.

After all this time feeling the need to do something like this with Jason. After months, weeks, nights, and days, thinking about how great it'd be to have him surrender under my hold, imagining our naked bodies pressed together, needing him so badly that my mind darkened.

After all this craving and longing for him, why am I so scared right now? If I should be so blissful with just making out with him, why all this remorse and guilt inside me? What the fuck is happening with me?

How did I get here?

I've gone too far.

I've gone too damn far.

I'm so fucked up.

I'm sick!

Oh my God.

Oh. My. God.

He's my son! My son! My own blood!

How many times have I had to remind myself of that in the last months?

I've taken my lust so far that I... What I did right now... I don't want to even think about it.

He's just fourteen years old!

How did I get to this point? I shake my head violently, trying to clear these confusing thoughts from my brain. Why am I so obsessed with my own son? Is this just how I always felt inside, hidden deep within my heart for the last fourteen years? How could I, his mom, not be mature and sensible enough to overcome this desire and act like a responsible adult? How can I be so perverted that I cannot handle the fact that I'm attracted to my son and want him sexually despite knowing all the consequences involved?

Why couldn't I just be a good mom, like the one I always thought I was?

I get up suddenly, and push my son aside in the most loving way I can find in me at the moment, but he must've noticed me suddenly spaced out.

He jumps up as well suddenly and speaks. "What's wrong, Mom? Are you okay?"

I put my hand on my face, covering my expression while I slowly shake my head.

Ashamed is a word that falls short when describing what I feel.

"Me, baby. I am wrong" I murmur softly.

Although I don't see his expression, I know Jason's staring at me, probably rattled. "Wrong? What do you mean 'wrong'?" he asks.

He must be so confused right now.

The only thing I seem to be able to do with my boy is get him more and more confused every time.

"This is... This is fucked up, sweetie. I'm sick. I'm a sick mother. I don't deserve to be your mom" I whisper, avoiding his gaze. "I'm so sorry." I cover my eyes with my hands like I'm about to cry, but unlike other times, this once I'm not pretending shit.

Jason's quiet for now, probably shocked and surprised by what just happened and my past behavior. He must be feeling like I'm crazy, and I understand if he thinks that.

Just a minute before, I was forcing my mouth down on his, kissing him like I wanted to eat him alive and not caring about anything else. And now here I am, going nuts, crying in front of him. It must be so disgustingly shocking and disturbing for a boy his age, especially since he doesn't know what's going through my mind.

But now, my lovely son, sneaks his fingers between mine, warmly holding my hand.

"It's ok, Mom. Everything's fine," he reassures me.

It's devastating, seeing he shows more maturity than I do sometimes. Maybe there's hope for him after all, despite having such a crazy mom.

His words calm me somehow. I feel less weird after hearing them trying to comfort me, and I lower my hands from my face to give Jason another hug, burying my nose in his soft dark curls while wrapping an arm around him.

"No, it's not, Jason," I say, trying to sound more relaxed "I'm sick..." I continue, squeezing my son tight against me.

Jason squeezes me back gently, stroking my long silky locks as we embrace each other. "You're not sick, Mom," he tells me in a gentle tone. "I'm not angry at you if that's what you're worried about."

My son's just so innocent and naïve. He doesn't sound to understand how inappropriate our — my — actions were, or how dangerous this might be for him. He's so blind with trust towards me that he thinks everything will be just fine after this.

I'm definitely not going to let my son pay the price for my twisted sexual desires.

"Jason, please... You don't understand. I... I took advantage of you... I'm the adult here" I sigh heavily. "I'm really sorry, sweetie. I shouldn't have done that" I say. "Just... Don't tell anyone, okay? We could get into real trouble." I add, looking him dead in the eye.

I know I won't be able to change anything that's happened, but I hope maybe, with time, he'll forget about it. I squeeze him tightly again, pressing my cheek on top of his head, feeling him breathe deeply under my chin.

"I promise, Mom," says my son reassuringly.

"Swear it, baby. Swear you won't ever tell anybody about this. Not even your friends, and especially not your dad. No one, Jason. I'm begging you." I take one of his hands between mine. "I could go to jail, sweetie" I whisper, hoping he understands the magnitude of what could happen.

"I swear, Mom. I won't tell anyone. I swear on my life" Jason answers without hesitation this time.

I know he means it, and that gives me some relief, although the situation is far from resolved at all. Thank God he's so good to me all the time, otherwise I guess this could've gotten much more serious if things had gone... Differently.

I slowly release my hold on Jason, giving him room to move away from me. I rub his back, trying to comfort him, feeling unable to save him from his own creator.

It's ironic to think that I was trying to take care of my son when I can merely protect him from me.

"Thank you." I hug him tight, holding him in my arms. "Now go to bed, and forget this happened, okay?"

"I... Mom."

I interrupt him, putting my finger across his lips.

"Shhhhhh..." I warn him, pressing my hand against his beautiful mouth. "Please, just... Do as I say" I whisper in a soft voice, stroking his cheek lovingly.

He nods slowly. "Fine."

"You're too good for me, sweetie. Go to your room and get some sleep." I stroke his face tenderly.

He sighs deeply. "Yeah, Ok." He kisses my lips, him taking the lead this time for a conventional mother-son kiss, not like five minutes ago, and gets up from the couch, ready to leave the living room. "Good night, Mom." He sighs.

"Good night, honey" I reply.

He walks upstairs slowly, with heavy footsteps, leaving me alone with the mess I've created.

The smelly moisture of sex hangs thickly in the air and I can still sense the tension between my legs and deep in my heart. Only then, I notice the precum stain on my black leggings, still wet and somewhat warm, reminding me of how turned on I was just a few seconds ago with my son's cock between my fingers and his breath deep inside my throat.

Chapter 5: A Pending Conversation

Notes:

Hello everyone one more time,

Short chapter, about 4.5k words. I know some of you will be disappointed with this one, but I believe it's really necessary for the development of this story.

BUT... I promise you guys that if you can be a little bit more patient, next chapter is going to be WILD and LONG, and all of you will love it.

Thanks again for your comprehension!!

Chapter Text

'The event' was the name I gave to that night in my brain. The night I kissed my fourteen-year-old son in a way a mother should never. The same night I sucked his tongue, felt his cock getting hard in my hand, and couldn't stop myself from doing it.

I tried, but I couldn't.

It felt like an irresistible desire took over me and I was unable to control myself. As soon as I touched his firm, warm body, so disappointed about that teen girl abandoning him, I knew I'd do it.

I'm still haunted by that night, so ashamed of myself, like I betrayed my son in the worst way, and sometimes I want to erase the whole memory from my mind.

I don't know how to act in front of him anymore, scared of seeing disgust or contempt in his eyes, so occasionally I simply avoid him. He looks sad and confused, and he tries to cheer me up from time to time by saying something, as if like he was the one who did something wrong. As if he was the one who should take the blame for this.

The other reason that keeps me terrified is the possibility that he might have told his friends, or worse, one of his teachers. I'm so selfish that I can't help but wish he will keep that promise he made me, so I can live in peace knowing no one will ever know. And I do care about his feelings too, don't get me wrong, but I could go to jail for what I did; I'd lose my job and my life.

I could lose him!

However, I don't spend all my time self-pitying and afraid. I know that he loves me and would never hurt me. And there's also this part of me that thinks I shouldn't feel so much guilt inside my heart, that I'm his mother, and I should be entitled to treat him however I want. But society is already judging me inside my own mind, talking behind my back, as if they already knew.

They'd talk about me; they'd obviously say terrible things about me; they'd call me a pervert and a sick mother.

A bad mother.

The worst mother possible.

But, really, am I supposed to ignore how amazing my son is? Am I the only mom that finds her son attractive? Sex and intimacy are natural things, just as kissing. And kisses are more than normal in a healthy relationship based on love, and a parent-child relationship is the most based on love relationship there is. In fact, if kisses are often the most effective way to show affection, then no one could deny I kissed my son because I love him so much. Maybe too much.

Who says I'm a monster for doing so? I am a good mother, right? And I love my son.

A mother should be allowed to express her feelings towards her child, shouldn't she? A single mother, with no partner, living alone, working from home, and being the main adult female influence in his life. Why do I have to choose between being a good, caring mother and his sexual companion? I could be both!

It feels unfair!

Do I have sexual desires involving my teenage son? Yes, I do. All men can be sexy, even if they're just boys.

Do I wish I was his first woman? Yes, of course, I do! What kind of mother wouldn't think like that, hand on heart?

Does Jason fantasize about having sex with me? Well… I bet he does.

Am I a pedophile? No, not at all! He's almost a grown-up man, and I've never had this kind of thought toward any teenager but him before.

And honestly, I've tried to apologize several times since then. I've tried to explain to my son what happened that night and why I behaved that way with him. But every time I try to do so, the words don't seem to come out of my mouth. Every time, my heart races faster and harder until I lose focus completely, almost stammering nervously, sweating profusely, afraid of his reaction and scared that he won't forgive me for what I did.

I couldn't blame him if he didn't, since I know I've been acting strange lately. He may even think I'm crazy and unstable, and he'd probably be right about that too, I suppose.

I remember how I reacted when I first caught him looking at my breasts, one or two years ago. I acted like it never happened, as any mom would, but he kept staring at them every time he could after that. With time, I began to feel flattered by his attention, and I loved how he admired my breasts in the end. I started wearing tighter shirts when he was around, and I loved how his eyes were glued on my cleavage all the time. I always found excuses to wear sexy outfits when I knew he was at home. I liked seeing him watching me, and I loved the feeling of his eyes on me, admiring me, being captivated by my curves.

But that, him being attracted to my breasts, is almost innocent compared to what I did a few days ago.

That's why this week I've been dealing with the guilt, trying to be just the same as I usually am, but not quite sure how to behave, what to say, or even how to look at my own son anymore. I've been working hard, giving my one hundred percent as usual, because I want Jason to think everything is fine; like nothing's changed between us. I hug him, and kiss him on the forehead whenever I can, just like before 'the event' took place. But I feel this awkwardness each time between us.

Sometimes I wish I could erase that night from our brains, but all I can do is pretend it never happened for now.

And, despite the fact that I'm aware this is really fucked up, the worst part is how excited I feel about it sometimes, when I don't feel ashamed. I can't stop thinking about that kiss; about how Jason's cock felt in my hand; about his mouth and his tongue, shyly exploring mine. I masturbate every day thinking about it, fantasizing, remembering every second. Other times I wake up crying when I dream about it, and the rest of the days I can't help masturbating frantically when I do.

Sometimes I go to the laundry room and snoop inside the hamper, searching for the dirty underwear Jason left the day before. Oh, God, the smell is so arousing that I can't help touching the hem, breathing deeply, and inhaling its musky odor while I touch myself. I hate that I even sniff Jason's clothes after he changes, and I instantly begin rubbing my clit until I cum. I can't help but imagine how the taste of Jason's semen and his sweat would feel on my tongue.

It feels great, and yet somehow horrible, but I'd say it's kind of normal to feel both ways about it, knowing I'm such a sick mother that I loved every second of that night, and I surely deserve to be punished for that.

And probably I should get arrested.

I knock on his door just like every night.

"Jason?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

I enter the room and see he's doing his homework. Jason sits on his desk chair, wearing his pajama pants and a t-shirt, his backpack beside him, and some textbooks open on the desk. There is something weirdly sexy about seeing your son studying hard like that.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey baby, can I speak with you? It'll only take a while, I promise" I ask him calmly, sitting on his bed.

I breathe heavily, waiting for him to say yes or no, so tense right now that I could explode into pieces, but in appearance, I seem calm and collected.

He nods. I can sense his apprehension, and I understand why. He comes to his own mattress and sits near me, but I come closer and put my arm around his shoulders, making sure my hand touches his upper arm.

I want him to feel protected. I want to show him I love him despite everything.

But he seems a little uncomfortable.

"What's up?" he asks.

"I have to talk to you, baby," I say.

He's quiet and doesn't dare answer. So beautiful that it hurts me to look at him, with his brown hair is cut short after he went to the hairdresser some days ago. His blue eyes look sad and vulnerable, but his gaze is soft and loving. I can feel his affection for me even despite what's happened lately.

"You're my favorite person in the whole wide world, you know that, right?" I begin. "You know how much I enjoy spending time with you, cooking for you, shopping with you, and... Just everything we do, really. I think you are an extremely smart, kind and wonderful boy, baby. I want you to know that I love you more than anything in the world. I live for you, Jason. You're all I've got and you'll always be the most important person in my life." I whisper to him, feeling like I'm about to cry. "But I betrayed you, sweetie. I did something a mother should never. The thing is, I sort of crossed a line with you..."

Jason's gaze is fixed on mine, staring deep into my eyes. His lips quiver slightly as if he wants to speak, but I interrupt him by squeezing his shoulders.

"Shh! Let me finish!" I order gently, placing a finger on his lips, curling in frustration. "I feel like I fucked up, really really bad, and I'm afraid I caused you so much pain" I assure him, his cheek and chin tenderly caressed by my hand. "I hope I haven't hurt you in any way, baby" I whisper. "I don't want you to ever leave me or stop trusting me. I only want to make things better... Just the way they were before." I continue, trying to keep tears from falling down my face.

His hands are shaking, but he tries to be calm through the tension, looking at me with his puppy-like greyish eyes. I stroke his neck with my fingers, feeling his body trembling under my touch, and I smile warmly when I notice his shivering increase.

"Mom..." He says quietly, his voice breaking. "The worst part wasn't what happened that night... That was… Weird, of course, But what hurts the most is the way you've been acting these last few days. Ever since then, you've been sort of distant, cold, awkward... I know you love me, Mom. I know you keep hugging me, and... Well, kissing me. Obviously, not the same way you... Did that night. But it's been feeling so unnatural to talk to you. And it's killing me, you know? I mean, I didn't want... That thing to happen either, but the way you treat me now... I just can't handle it" he sighs deeply, lowering his head.

Fuck.

"Baby, listen to me, ok?" I say, holding him tightly, stroking his hair. He looks up at me and nods his head slowly. "You won't have to worry about that anymore, okay? nothing's different between us. I swear. Please believe me when I tell you this: I love you more than anything, and I am so incredibly proud of you and happy for the man you are becoming. I'm thrilled about our friendship, the relationship we've built together, the trust we share, the care and support you showed me that day, and the understanding and respect... And I promise that's not gonna change" I take a long pause. "I felt so guilty that day though... I still do. That's why you've been noticing me treating you differently. I wanted to give you an honest explanation, but I couldn't find the words to properly apologize. Can we try again?"

Jason closes his eyes, nodding slowly.

"I think... I think I do feel guilty too, Mom. I mean... I don't know what to say. I just feel so bad about it. I wish I could..."

"No, honey. Don't blame yourself. You didn't do anything wrong" I tell him. "I'm the adult here." I give him a reassuring kiss on the forehead.

My son shakes his head.

"No, no. Mom! It's my fault, too. I agreed to it" he says.

Did he?

When I kissed him, he didn't seem like he agreed, even if I'd like to think I would never force him to do anything. Maybe it was some sort of fantasy for him, considering the way he usually looks at me, and he simply allowed himself to follow along eventually, when I asked him to. I thought he consented just to make me happy, like he wanted to please me, as he always does.

But he's fourteen. Can he really consent to that kind of stuff?

I just want to make things right. For once.

"Honey, you can't take any part of the blame here. Listen to me carefully: this was entirely my responsibility, honey, and I'm sorry. I am truly, genuinely sorry. I love you more than anything, and I will do anything to fix this. We can move forward from this point, okay? Nothing's changed between us and no one needs to know about what happened. Understood?" I beg him, caressing his smooth skin with my palm.

Jason's now looking at the floor, biting his lower lip, and his hands are balled into fists. He keeps frowning intensely, and I know he's having trouble dealing with the situation. But I need to know if he's forgiven me. I need to be sure.

"Do you forgive me? Do you accept my apology, sweetheart?" I ask him, squeezing his shoulders tight.

"Y-yes..." He breathes, nodding his head. "I'm fine. Really, I am. No worries."

He's not fine. Not by a mile. I can see it, and I can hear it in his voice.

I need to know.

"Would you mind... Telling me how you feel about it? You can speak freely, honey. I want you to communicate, okay? And... We'll never talk about it after this if that's what you want" I encourage.

He closes his eyes briefly, then exhales deeply and shakes his head.

"It's ok, Jason," I murmur, squeezing his shoulder tighter and leaning forward to place another gentle kiss on his left temple. I inhale sharply as his sweet smell fills my nostrils, making my heart race faster. I take his hands and rest them on my legs, caressing them with my thumbs.

"You're not angry, are you?" he asks me sincerely.

"Of course not! I'm not angry, honey. I'm just really, really ashamed I made you feel uncomfortable. I'm sorry for forcing you to..." I murmur, stroking his palms softly. "It's okay, sweetie. I promise I'm not upset. I just want to know how you feel about it, that's all."

But he doesn't know what to say I think.

"That was the first time I ever kissed a girl."

Wow, seems like he did know what to say.

I can't help but feel shocked hearing my son saying that out loud. Of course, I knew that before, but to actually hear it... It sounds so good. So right.

"What do you mean?" I finally ask, playing dumb.

"Well... You already know, Mom" he starts nervously, averting his gaze. "It was my first real kiss. With a girl..."

"I'm no girl, sweetie. I'm a woman" I correct him, chuckling lightly.

He laughs gently at my comment. "Oh yes. You're right. A woman" Jason says with his cheeks burning bright red. "And it was... Yeah, it was weird and all, 'cause you're my mom. But... I mean, you kiss me almost all the time… As a mother! Fuck, I don't wanna sound stupid, but I know you love me a lot, like a mom. But... This... It was different. It was, like..." He looks at me, eyes sparkling, then looks away.

Butterflies in my stomach.

"What do you mean, baby?" I ask him, swallowing hard.

"I thought a first kiss could be kind of gross, because of the wetness, and considering I have no experience whatsoever... At least, the first time is usually awkward, right?" He asks, looking for confirmation.

It was.

Just enough.

"Yeah, baby, it usually is."

"But then, it felt..." He looks hesitant and stares at the floor. "I mean... It felt good, Mom. Just good. Like... I mean it, it made me so..." he whispers.

I interrupt him before he says anything else. "Really? It made you feel good?"

Jason nods, with his eyes down and his cheeks on fire.

My heart beats faster, and I can't help but feel so relieved, surprised about his answer, but thrilled too. I was expecting anything else from him: denial or anger, maybe, but not this. He didn't get turned off or scared by my actions. Sure it was weird for him, but that doesn't seem so bad at all right now, quite on the contrary, actually. Knowing he started to like it when he let go... Oh, my dear son! I can't believe the fact that he liked it, and that I managed to please him that much with my kisses and my touch.

I can't help but smile broadly, rubbing his smooth, round face between my thumb and index fingers.

"So you weren't repulsed by it?" I inquire with curiosity.

His expression becomes serious.

"Well, yeah, a bit. The first couple of times you kissed me. But after that, it got better. In a strange way. Like... It became more intimate and seductive instead of awkward, you know?" He confesses. "I'm... Well, I'm fourteen and you're my mom, so I guess it's normal that at the beginning I freaked out a little bit, as I said. But then... It started feeling... I don't know" he sighs again, lowering his gaze to the floor.

"Would you say it was more… Weird or pleasant?" I ask.

He looks at me intensely, like he's not sure whether to answer, and I see he's trying to be completely honest once again.

"It was... Weird good, Mom. Your touch was so smooth, so..."

"So motherly," I say, smiling at him, feeling proud of myself. I can't help to stroke his face.

He's so cute and handsome, with his blue eyes and his brown hair, and his skin that's smooth and soft under my touch.

"Yes, exactly! Exactly like that!" He exclaims. "It's a weird thing to say, Mom, I know. But it's like somehow it felt good and natural."

Perhaps, he's just my boy and that's why he felt kind of comfortable in his first kiss. After all, I have given birth to him, and I carried him until he was ready to come out and live outside of my womb. I have done all sorts of things to keep him safe and I have been his best possible mother all these years. I've raised him, I'm his sole protector, and I know everything about him. Every single secret of his body, of his soul, and of his mind. Jason has grown up surrounded by my affectionate attention and we share a special bond.

I hug him tightly against me since I can't believe how happy I am to hear him say that. Again, I kiss him tenderly on his forehead, and I know exactly what he means by that. In a way, it felt it was the most natural thing in the world, like when I held him when he was a baby.

"I can't say I'm not glad about that, Jason. And..." I don't know if I should say this, but it comes out anyway, "To be honest, I'm kinda happy your first kiss ever was with me" I whisper seductively into his ear.

I feel him shudder a little bit at the contact of my breath on his skin. Jason's face is flushed, and his eyes are bright and eager. I give a little glance at his pants, and considering the growing bulge, I think he's a little bit aroused. But who could blame the boy?

"I think I am too, Mom" he whispers back, chuckling lightly and staring at my boobs again.

His words shock me but excite me at the same time, while I place another soft, maternal kiss on his lips.

"How did you feel about it, Mom? Did you like it too?"

"That's something I won't tell you, mister!"

"Oh, come on, Mom, but I told you! You can tell me! I promise I won't get weird."

I want to tease him a little bit, playfully.

"But I'm the mom, sweetie. And I get to decide over this and everything" I giggle, and Jason lets out a little sigh. "You're just lucky that you're my son, because if you were my boyfriend…" I whisper, caressing his smooth, silky hair.

"What?!"

He looks at me with a stunned expression, but his eyes are full of hope and lust.

"I'm not telling!" I laugh.

"Moooom! That's not fair at all" he complains.

"I didn't say it was. But you love me so much, don't you?" I say, smiling mischievously at him.

Jason nods slowly. "Yeah, of course, I do."

His arms wrap around me and hold tight, squeezing me fiercely. I feel his warmth and strength through our link, and I breathe in his scent. This time, it smells fresh, not mixed with sweat as it usually is, but it smells like his own clean essence, so I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of Jason's strong embrace holding me so tenderly.

Oh, God! If only I was his age… Or rather, if only I wasn't his mother... I'd probably go nuts over him.

But there's one more question that I need to ask.

"Sweetie, I have to ask you… Did you tell anyone? About our thing?" I ask suddenly.

"No" he replies instantly with an anxious voice. He shakes his head slowly, without making eye contact.

I trust him without having any doubt whatsoever.

"Good, sweetheart. It's very important you keep it that way. You know that, right?" I look into his blue eyes and smile warmly, caressing his hair. "I could get into a lot of trouble if someone finds out. It won't happen again, I promise" I continue, looking for a reaction.

Jason nods quickly, averting his eyes away from mine. His hands move down toward the hem of his short pants and start playing with them nervously.

"Mom," he says again, sounding nervous and worried.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"I don't know if I'd be willing to do it again, anyways" he admits, staring into my eyes.

"What do you mean by 'it'?" I ask.

"You've just said it won't happen again, but I don't know if I'd be... If I'd do it again" he whispers, avoiding eye contact.

Is he teasing me? What does he mean he would never agree to do that again? That's absurd. Why did he even say that? Is he trying to confess something? Is he referring to his sexual orientation? Is he saying he's gay? The thought of Jason being gay terrifies me. Not that I'm homophobic, I've always respected and supported gay people, but I seriously doubt my son is homosexual. Why wouldn't he kiss me again if he's not gay? Maybe he just finds me ugly? Too old?

He's disgusted that I'm his mom, right?

I swallow loudly. I feel my stomach lurching violently, threatening to throw up everything in it. Because of that, I become a little defensive and irritable, but I try to keep a joking approach to it.

"What do you mean, young man? You know I love you more than anything in the whole wide world! Do you honestly expect me to believe you think I am ugly or something?" I retort almost laughing. "Do you realize how lucky you are to have a mother as gorgeous as me?!" I try to make him confess, tickling his tummy, while he laughs in response.

"No! Mom! No! I don't mean that!" he exclaims, while I laugh along with him. "I just meant I don't wanna kiss you like that again, Mom." He escapes under my arm, turning away from me, his voice sounding a little more timid now. "I... I meant that I know I'm... Maybe too young? I'm just trying to say that... You are way older than me, mom. And... And well, you're my mom! I'm sorry if I sound weird. I don't know how I should speak about this, and I'm saying..."

I laugh louder again, showing him I was joking.

But I wasn't.

"Jason, sweetie. I'm just kidding! I know I'm your mom" I repeat gently, stroking his hair. "And... You can talk to me any damn way you wish. I'll listen to whatever you say."

"O... Okay," he says, relaxing his muscles under my hand.

"You know I'm the one who's supposed to comfort you whenever you're sad or scared or anything like that. And I would never allow anyone else to do it, no matter what. I mean it, you know I love you more than anything in the world, honey" I say, smiling at him.

I would die for him, if necessary. I am willing to be the most perfect mother I can be for my son.

I want to tell him that I am so proud of him that it makes me happy just to look at him; that I am so proud of the way he is, of the way he looks, and of how mature he's becoming. I want to tell him that I want to be his whole world.

But that just wouldn't be right.

"I love you, Mom," he says, hugging me tighter.

"I love you too, honey. I love you more than I should" I answer, kissing his soft lips in a tender manner. "I know I have been too hard on you lately, but I want you to understand that it's just because I love you so much, and I don't want you to ever forget that." I continue, holding him close. "I just want you to know that I will always be there for you, whenever you need me. You are the most important person in my life, and you will always be" I whisper, holding him tight.

"Thanks, Mom" he answers, smiling.

"Good."

I kiss him softly on his lips, and get up from his bed, thinking of how I'm going to become the best mom on the planet.

Chapter 6: A Man Visiting

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The lack of social life was hard to swallow during the first weeks after moving.

Homesick, missing my family and friends, and dealing with the anxiety of becoming a single mom for the first time in my life. Thank God my son's smile brightened up my days every morning.

But it's been over almost two months since then, and things have improved a little bit. Now I have friends and gardening's not the only thing I do in my free time.

Phoebe's is my first real friendship in this town since I was a teenager. She's a forty-something-year-old, mother of Jane, a lovely young girl aged seventeen studying at Blue River High School, the same school as my son. I met her some weeks ago in a PTA meeting and we became friends in less than five minutes, laughing at the high school principal's obvious toupee falling when he sat down. She's a fun woman, married to a handsome, successful businessman, with whom she has three children, the youngest being Jane.

The second one I don't know if I should call it a friendship, but for now that's exactly what it is.

Two weeks ago, talking with my sister Lauren on the phone, she said it was a little sad for me not to have someone around here as 'company', and I instantly knew what she meant by that word. I used to be a social butterfly back in the city, but apparently, that changed since the divorce and got worse when we moved. It's normal, I guess, after all, I had plenty of other stuff to worry about over the last months than dating.

Lauren had a friend here, a doctor named Mario. The guy seemed pretty cool and good-looking, a single man at thirty-eight with a good job and a big house. According to my sister, he was a nice man, so I decided to give this one a try. It's been eight months since I divorced John, and I hadn't had a single date since then, so I thought it was time to try to forget about my husband – and my son – in a more active way. I wanted to get myself a nice man to help me heal and distract my mind a bit, and Mario seemed to be exactly the right man for the job. No kids, five years younger than me, and quite good-looking.

Our first date was the next Saturday after that, and I was surprised to see he was actually pretty tall, about 6'3". The only bad thing I noticed was he's bald, and I don't like hairless men too much, but I kind of think it suits him well. He seems very smart and educated, and he's got a sense of humor. We spent the whole evening talking about almost every existing topic, and I'd say I had a very nice time.

However, I can't say there's too much attraction on my part. Maybe, with time, I might find him more appealing, but right now, I can't seem to take my mind off the man I really want. I suppose I need to think about this new friendship more seriously, starting with some more dates with this Mario, and then see where things lead us to.

I'm so tired of being alone, with no one to share my thoughts with. Not that Jason is not a great listener, he always is, but there's just something else I need. It's really hard to explain how lonely I feel at times, especially now that my son has started going out more with his friends after school and on weekends, instead of staying home alone all day. Even though his going out with his friends also means that he spends time less often with me, I strongly believe this is the right thing for us at the moment.

And that doesn't mean I stopped feeling possessive over my son. In fact, I feel like it's getting worse, but I try to be relaxed and calm about it, telling myself it's just the way it should be between a mother and her son.

Yesterday, when I was out with Mario, he mentioned he'd like to meet my son Jason, and I instantly panicked. I mean, at first, I didn't think it was a good idea since I don't really know how Jason would take it. He's usually quite shy and reserved around new people, so he might be a little uncomfortable about the idea of meeting his mother's new boyfriend, because in my son's mind that's exactly what Mario would be, even if he's only a friend at the moment, a candidate, with little romantic interest for me yet.

Sharing me with a man other than his dad would feel like treason to Jason. I would feel guilty at some point, I'm sure of it. And I don't want my son to feel like I'm being disloyal to him.

That's my internal debate when the front door breaks off my train of thought and I turn around to look at my office door, hearing the noise from the main hallway.

Why's he home so early? He's supposed to be at Alex and Sarah's place until late tonight. I'm paralyzed, with my hands on my laptop, when I notice immediately that something's wrong by the sound of his steps heading to his room.

He passes by my door without saying a word and disappears into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"Hey, hey hey! Where are you going, sweetie?" I ask him, trying to sound casual. "Jason?" I call for him, walking in the hallway. "Everything ok, honey?" I say, facing his door now.

Silence.

"Baby, are you okay...?" I knock on his door now, not waiting for him to answer, and I pull the door handle.

Jason's lying face down on his bed.

"Jason, honey? Are you alright?" I gasp, kneeling beside him. He's not crying, but still shaking slightly while I wrap my arms around him and stroke his hair. "What happened, baby?" I ask.

He sits up with a terrible, heartbreaking sigh, burying his head into my chest, looking for comfort.

"Oh God..." I whisper.

He lifts his now annoyed face, staring deep into mine with moist blue eyes.

"It's Alex! He's a dickhead!" he shouts. I can feel his anguish, clearly caused by his new best friend.

"Oh, baby, don't say that. There's no need to speak like that. What happened?" I scold him a little.

"I say he's a dickhead because he is a dickhead!" He retorts angrily. "He's so mean to me sometimes, mom!" He buries his head in my neck again.

I swallow thickly, feeling like I want to kill that asshole he has for a friend. Maybe I should've seen this coming. There's nothing I can do now, other than caress his hair and kiss his forehead, noticing one single tear rolling down his cheek.

"Still, Jason, you should never use that kind of language." I try to sound firm. "I taught you better than that. And you shouldn't cry over what some stupid kid..." I say, brushing off his tear. "What did he do to you?"

"He said that..." he whispers, taking a few breaths to calm down. "We were all there, like, e-everyone in our group was there. Sarah, Martin, Amanda... Everyone. And he just couldn't stop teasing me and Amanda all the time! First, he almost insinuated that I like her, and then... He said Sarah knows who Am's crush is! In front of everyone! We were so embarrassed, and I felt so humiliated! And he was laughing like crazy at us, and then she just got angry, and said she doesn't like me nor anyone and went home! What's wrong with him?! I hate him so much!"

Poor thing.

My heart's aching so much for him right now after seeing him so broken. How can he not see that the girl clearly likes him?

"Honey... I'm so sorry to hear that. You don't deserve your friends treating you that way. I'm sure he's jealous because he likes Amanda too, baby. Do you want me to talk to his mom?" I whisper, stroking his hair gently.

"No, please don't, mom! I'll deal with it myself, I swear I will" he says, while I wipe away the rest of his last tear.

I know he'd feel awful if his friends saw me fighting with their parents, but can't help being angry at this boy, Alex, and I know my son is too. I can't believe he'd say something like that in front of the whole group. From what I've heard when my son talks with me, I never thought Alex could act like a bully, but I suspect Alex has never liked the idea of Jason and Amanda being any more than friends and the boy's just a little jealous of my son.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

He nods, and I kiss him on the forehead.

"I'm so sorry about this, baby. You deserve better friends. I don't know what to do with that jerk" I tell him.

"Don't worry about it, mom" he says, trying to sound casual.

He wraps his arms around my neck and we stay there in silence for a couple of minutes. I keep caressing his hair and I feel him relax until he's hugging me tight.

"Well, at least you know Amanda likes you too, right?"

"Mom, she said exactly the opposite" he argues, with an annoyed expression.

"She's just embarrassed. It's normal she doesn't want everyone to know that she likes you." I explain, rubbing his hair while I try to be a supportive mom.

"I... I hope you're right" he looks at my cleavage, highlighted by my tight blouse. "But he went on, mom. He didn't stop there. The moment Am closed the door, he kept on saying how weird it'd be if Amanda had a crush on me, and when I asked him why, he just said she wouldn't date me because I'm immature and a mommy's boy" Jason murmurs. "And... That's not true. I'm not like that at all. I mean... I'm not a mommy's boy, am I?"

He sounds so hurt and desperate to me right now. Those words must be still hurting my boy, but I can't help feeling proud deep in my heart that his friends believe that he's a mommy's boy.

"I don't think you're immature at all, sweetheart. In fact, you're very mature for your age" I say, trying to sound sincere and calm.

I can see his eyes are fixed on my tits. "You think so, mom?"

"I do, honey, you're just growing up and you have to deal with that, like everyone aged fourteen," I say, smiling at him. "You're such a sweet, amazing boy, in the transition of becoming an adult" I continue, while he starts blushing intensely, looking away from me. "But I don't understand why being a mommy's boy can be such a bad thing, Jason. If anything, your relationship with me shows that you're a sensitive and caring young man! You listen to me, and you care about what I think. That means the world to me. If you ask me, having a close relationship with your mother is something beautiful and special, and we should keep it that way" I caress his cheeks before pulling his face against my tits again.

Even if we haven't talked about 'the event' after our conversation last month, I still feel like he needs to be reassured that nothing's changed between us and that he should keep me as close as he always has been.

However, down there, under my panties, I can feel my clit trembling with desire, as Jason's face presses firmly against my soft mounds. The memory of that kiss still makes me shiver, and my heart races whenever I remember when Jason said he liked it too. It's driving me insane how much I want to feel that again, but I'm convinced this is what's best for both of us.

"I don't know if it's a bad thing or not, mom. But I hate the way he laughs at me because of how... Close we are" he confesses, burying his face in my cleavage a little more.

I hold him tightly, stroking his head, and he continues to speak.

"Maybe I need to do something about that after all, mom. Sometimes I feel like a burden to you too, like I'm not mature enough. I mean, you always seem to be so busy, working or taking care of the house and all that stuff... I never see you doing anything else besides that. I wish I could see you having fun, mom!" He whimpers, looking at me with his beautiful gray-blue eyes.

"Don't say that sweetie, you're the best thing I have!" I reply, caressing his cheek and chin. "I work a lot, sweetie, I know that, but I can't afford not to. We have bills to pay, remember? And yes, maybe I spend most of my time at home, but you're worth every second of it! You don't need to do anything about it" I smile reassuringly.

Jason smiles lightly back at me and rests his head against my chest again, hugging me tighter.

"Thank you, mom. For everything you do for us" he whispers, while I rub his back softly.

"It's nothing, honey," I say, smiling at him.

"I'm glad you found Phoebe. You deserve to have friends who make you happy" he tells me, and I can't help but feel my heart ache with his words.

Time to confess.

"I'm glad to have her as my friend too, sweetie, but there's something I need to tell you. Something important about what you just said" I explain, and he looks up at me with curious eyes. "You know, when we came here, I told you it was time to move on, and I really meant it. It's been a long time since I divorced your dad, almost eight months, a whole year since I found out he was cheating on me, and it's been hard for me to do just that, to move on and try to be happy again. But I think it's time I try harder if you know what I mean."

My son is clever and observant, but I can tell he didn't suspect a thing about my dates with Mario just by seeing his expression.

"Mom, what are you talking about? Have you met someone?" He asks.

I sigh. "Yes, dear. There's a guy. A doctor. He's a friend of your aunt's. We started texting a few weeks ago, then we met a couple of times..." I pause, thinking. "And we keep calling and texting each other. We're not dating… Yet. There's nothing too serious so far, but I'm kind of excited about it. Are you not happy for me, baby?"

Jason tries to find an answer to my question while he scratches his arm, looking at the floor. His eyes still look humid and red after crying.

"I don't know, mom. I guess it's kinda normal I don't want you to go out with anyone else but dad..." He breathes "But if you want to rebuild your life, I should understand. It should be okay, as long as he makes you happy..." My boy smiles sadly.

Is he jealous? Is my son jealous of another man?

Maybe he does have feelings for me...

"Baby, as I told you, I haven't even talked about dating him yet" I tell him.

"Still, the idea of you going out with someone else doesn't make me feel great" he confesses, and I just want to kiss him and hug him and reassure him that he doesn't need to worry about another man stealing me.

"Honey, I'm your mom, I'm supposed to take care of you, not the other way around! don't wanna share your mom with anyone, do you?" I ask, giving him a tender shake on his shoulders, and he gives me a shy smile.

"That's not what I meant, mom" he murmurs, averting his gaze.

"It's ok, sweetie. It's only natural for you to feel this way, and I understand" I chuckle, kissing his earlobe, trying to lighten the mood. "But I want you to know that I still love you more than anything in the world, Jason, and you will always be my whole life."

"I dunno, mom..." He answers with heavy breaths "I mean, yeah, I'd probably be pissed at first, but... You don't have to worry about what I feel. You deserve to be happy and I should give you support, I think" he tells me.

Oh, God. He looks so mature right now. So manly.

This is actually making me kind of hot. I don't want Jason to be upset with me, but... Just the thought of making him a little bit more jealous than he already is excites me a little bit.

I hope he's ready to fight for me.

"I know, baby. I know you will" I tell him, kissing him on his forehead. "You know what? He said he'd love to meet you, so I told him he could come to visit us at home sometime soon. I thought maybe we could invite him over tomorrow evening and let him stay for dinner, and..." I hesitate "And see how things turn out. I need my son's blessing for that, right?" I whisper into his ear.

Jason doesn't seem too convinced. He shakes his head slowly.

"No, Mom!" He protests weakly, shaking his head "I don't think he should come home just yet, I mean… It's too soon, isn't it? I know you have plans with him, but..."

I press my lips against his forehead for a brief kiss and pull him closer to me.

"Oh, baby! You said you want me to move on, didn't you? Do you want to keep me locked in this house with you forever? I need you to be more mature about this, honey. I really hope you'll fancy him. No man will ever be a substitute for your dad, sweetie, but I like this one a lot" I lie.

"I don't know, mom..." He breathes "I... I just don't want you to leave me behind! I want you to be happy with someone, but..." He takes a deep breath "I... I suppose I wouldn't mind meeting him. I don't know... It's weird."

I smile and hug my son tightly against me. My moistening cunt squirms beneath the panties.

"Of course, I won't leave you behind! How could I do that? Sweetie, I'll always be here fro you, ok? No matter how many lovers I get" I whisper, stroking his cheek and hair.

Jason sighs quietly and buries his nose into my neck, but he obviously doesn't like what I'm saying too much.

"Ok, mom... He can come, I guess" he replies with resignation.

"Thank you, sweetheart, you're the best son in the world!" I coo, squeezing him tighter.

He holds me back, but he doesn't seem as excited about my plan as I do.

"Mom?" He asks "What if it doesn't work out? What if he doesn't like me?"

I kiss him again, pulling him away from my tits so he can look into my eyes.

"Of course, he will, honey! Why would you even ask that?" I giggle, holding his head between my hands.

He shrugs and looks down again. "I dunno..." He whispers "I'm a bit nervous about this... But, mom," he says, looking up at me "if you decide to... Start dating him... Will you... Would you..." He hesitates, his eyes shifting nervously.

"What is it, sweetie?" I ask, worried.

"Mom... Will you still love me?" He asks in a very low voice, barely a whisper. "Please, promise you won't forget about me... Promise you'll never love him more than you love me" He begs.

My chest aches with the sweet words. I can feel the love between us radiating through our bodies, and I hug him tightly.

"How could I do such a thing, Jason? Sweetie, I promise. I'll always love you, and no man will ever mean as much to me as you do. You're my world" I assure him.

I'm dying to kiss him. I want to feel his lips on mine again, but I can't. I just hold him close and rub his back.

"Thank you, mom... I love you" he murmurs into my shoulder, before resting his head again.

I stroke his hair tenderly.

"I love you too, sweetie. More than you know."

The smell of garlic, onions, and meat cooking in the pan is making my son's mouth water. I'm wearing a loose blue dress that cannot hide the size of my breasts, with a long cleavage on it, and my hair is styled into a graceful bun. I'm not a fan of loose clothes, and I rarely wear them, but this one's nice and fits me perfectly because it doesn't hide my curvy shape.

My son sits at the table watching his TikTok videos on his phone while I'm cooking, dressed in his usual jeans and a T-shirt.

The doorbell rings.

"Come on, baby. Go open the door."

"Mom, can you go instead? Please?" he complains, feeling a little bit shy. He's been acting nervous and annoyed since he woke up today.

"Oh, God, Jason, why can't you do as I say without complaining, for once? I'm taking care of our dinner, sweetheart" I scold him, and he sighs with frustration.

"Sorry, mom..." Jason grunts as he stands up and walks towards the door.

"That's better, honey" I say, smiling at his back.

I take the plates and put them onto the living room table, and then I walk after my son. When I get to the front door, Mario's introducing himself to my son. The height difference between the two of them is shocking at first since the man must be at least six inches taller than Jason, making them look like different species. My son's not small for his age, but Mario is a giant next to him.

The thirty-eight-year-old is wearing a black shirt and khaki pants. He has a broad chest and wide shoulders, and his face is shaved except for his mustache. His hands are large and calloused, because of all the workouts he must do, and the size of his muscles contrasts with Jason's thin frame. Mario's not exactly bulky, but you can tell he's a strong man.

I have to say he looks quite handsome today. He chose his clothes well.

Jason looks down at the ground awkwardly when he meets him.

"Hey, umm, nice to meet you, Mister..." he stutters nervously.

Mario smiles and offers him his hand.

"Hi there, son. You must be Jason! You can call me Mario" he greets with a soft voice, shaking his hand. My son nods shyly.

The big man turns to me while I'm drying my hands with a towel.

"And who's this lovely lady here? I bet she's your mom, isn't she?" He jokes, bending to kiss my cheek, and I notice he smells masculine and clean, giving off a faint aroma of musk cologne. "Hello, Samantha!"

My son's looking at the scene with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Welcome to my dear home, Mario! Did you have any problem finding our house? Did you follow my instructions?" I ask cheerfully.

"Yeah, it was easy enough" he says.

"All right! Come in, come in! Let's sit down at the table! I will pour some wine for both of us."

A while after that, the dinner conversation between Mario and me is going smoothly, but my son doesn't seem in the mood for speaking too much. He keeps staring at Mario, fidgeting uncomfortably whenever he speaks or makes jokes, and every time I laugh at one of the man's comments, my son frowns and his facial expression becomes more intense.

"So, how are you doing in High School, Jason? Your mom says you're quite a brilliant student" says Mario, turning to Jason.

Jason sighs deeply and rubs his left eye. "I'm... Good, I guess" he mutters, avoiding Mario's gaze.

"Really? That's great news, buddy! What's your favorite subject?" Mario asks excitedly, ignoring the fact that the boy is not thrilled by the interaction.

"Math. And science in general" he answers reluctantly.

"Oh, wow! I love Math too, Jason. What do you plan to study when you graduate? Maybe you could become a doctor, like me!" He laughs loudly.

Jason grimaces, clearly uncomfortable. "I dunno, we'll see..." he murmurs uncertainly.

I stare at Jason and he glimpses at me. My gaze is telling him that he should be more polite to Mario.

"I guess becoming a doctor would be... Fine" says Jason, forcing a grin.

Mario chuckles happily, slapping his knee. "You know I could give you some tips in the future, buddy!" He announces, raising his glass to drink a toast, and winking at me.

"You're too kind, Mario" I tell him with a warm smile.

The rest of the dinner goes well, but Jason seems distant, quiet, and unresponsive most of the time. After eating, I clear all the dishes away and ask Jason if he wants to stay in the living room with Mario and me.

"I think I'll go to my room, mom" my son says quickly, getting up from the table.

"Are you sure?" I say, not surprised "It's pretty early, sweetie. Wouldn't you rather stay here for a while longer, instead of being alone in your room? We were having a lot of fun earlier..."

"I think I'd rather be playing on my computer" my son insists coldly "I'd like to be left alone, mom" he says, leaving the dining room without giving me another glance, so upset that I think he looks kid of adorable.

For the next hour or so, Mario and I sit on the living room sofa talking about random topics, drinking a couple of wine glasses, and sharing a cigarette. It's been years since the last one I smoked! I used to enjoy smoking so much when I was young, but I gave up when I got pregnant with Jason.

Mario is a real gentleman; a nice man who doesn't mind staring at my tits from time to time. I wish I could blame him for it, but I'm used to men acting like that when they're around me. I'm tall and big-breasted, so I feel like I was born to be looked at by men. He's not really checking me out like a creepy guy, though. He's not ogling at my cleavage or anything like that. I see he's looking at me, but he doesn't make it obvious, and I find that kind of charming.

I feel comfortable around him, and I feel relaxed, and even if I can tell he's really attracted to me, I, on the contrary, don't feel any attraction towards him. He's handsome, but I can't help to think Jason is a better-looking guy. He's clever, but he doesn't seem to be as intelligent as my son is. And he makes me laugh, but my son makes me laugh too.

Why can't I feel anything for this nice man?

Perhaps the problem is that he isn't Jason. Perhaps the problem is that the one I want is my own son.

The wine's affecting my judgment, making me just enough tipsy, and I can't avoid thinking of how sweet was to see my son jealous during dinner. I laugh loud at every joke and comment Mario makes, trying to make sure my son hears my voice in his room upstairs, hoping he gets more and more envious of the doctor.

But nothing happens for now. I hear nothing from my son. No sound comes out of his bedroom.

Minutes go by.

At some point, I quickly realize that Mario's gaze is fixed on my lips, and he seems to be waiting for me to start kissing him. I take a sip of wine and he moves a little bit closer to me, my eyes staring at his lips, but I don't approach an inch further. The idea of our mouths meeting each other doesn't excite me, so I look into his eyes and give him a small smile.

I remove my eyes from his face and look at my phone's screen lighting up with a message. It's him.

It's my son.

'can u come up to my room?' he writes 'i need smth'.

I grin slightly and start typing, not letting Mario see anything happening on my screen.

'What do you need, baby? You know I'm kinda busy right now'

A reply comes almost instantly.

'i need u'

My heart skips a beat, and I can feel myself blushing.

'Are you ok? Do you want me to bring you something?' I send.

'no. can u come to my room? please...'

I frown and turn to Mario, who is smiling at me, but I ignore him and look back at my phone.

'Why? What's wrong, baby?'

I wait for a few seconds. No answer.

'Jason, what's wrong?'

'pls come' he types.

"Is there anything wrong?" Mario asks me, in a concerned voice, watching me reading the messages.

"I don't know, I think my son wants me for some reason..." I say, and then I look up at Mario "Just give me five minutes" I add.

"Sure" he nods, smiling and looking at the staircase leading to Jason's room.

I stand up from the sofa and head upstairs, leaving Mario alone in the living room. I knock softly on the door, hearing him answer immediately.

"Come in, mom" he tells me quietly, so I slowly open the door.

Jason's lying in bed, curtains completely closed, and the only light in the room comes from the small lamp on his little bedside table. The room's aroma is one I know very well at this point: a mix of Jason's body's smell and the sweetish, fruity aroma of his deodorant. I breathe in deeply, closing my eyes and smiling in satisfaction.

He's only wearing his briefs underneath the white sheets covering his body.

"What do you need, baby?" I ask, closing the door behind me.

My son sits upright on his bed, crossing his legs under him. He tosses the sheets with his right hand as he takes a deep breath, rubbing his forehead with his other palm.

"I wanted to ask you something," he says in a very low tone "you won't get mad at me, will you?"

He sounds a little hopeless. The effect of the wine is still there, but my instincts work perfectly fine.

"Why would I get mad?" I ask him softly, sitting on the edge of his bed. "What's wrong, honey?"

His eyes are begging, imploring me to take care of him like something's wrong with him and he doesn't want to tell. I'm sure he's feeling vulnerable and scared of something. I don't know what, but whatever it is, I feel drawn to comfort him, because the feeling that he's in so much need of his mom makes me a little hot deep inside.

"Can... Can you stay here with me? Just for a while... I'd like to talk to you" My son pleads, grabbing my hands into his own.

"But... Honey, you know Mario's waiting for me downstairs..." I try to explain, trying to back out a little.

His disappointed face and puppy eyes are killing my will to make him jealous, and I can't help but feel this rush of maternal instinct taking over me.

"Please..." my son begs again, tightening his grip on my hands, and pulling me towards his body. "I'm kind of sad right now, mom. I want you to stay here with me... I need you. Can you... Can you tell him to leave?" he confesses his wishes, glancing at my cleavage.

Did he really ask me to get rid of the man I allegedly like, just to stay here with him? I know my son loves me so much, but this is really something new.

I can barely move, frozen between my son's grip on my palms and my motherly duty to protect him. I don't understand why he needs me so much in this moment, whether it's because he truly needs my protection, or he's just feeling possessive over me. My mind keeps screaming at me to stay calm and in control, but my heart, in agreement with my snatch, demands something else.

"Why?" I ask, breathing in deeply.

"Mom... I dunno... I just..." Jason pauses for a moment, trying to choose his words "I just want to spend some time alone with you. I know you have plans for tonight with him, but... It's just, I'm not feeling well... I guess it's just a headache or something like that."

My heart almost breaks when I see he's not being sincere with me.

I bet my son knows exactly what he's doing.

"Are you jealous, Jason?"

"I'm not, but..." he starts to argue, turning to look out his window.

"Don't lie to me" I cut him off. "I want you to be honest with me."

"I'm not jealous, mom. I'm just... I'm feeling sick" he mutters, looking down at his fingers "I think I..."

"Let's make a deal here, honey." I interrupt him from speaking, and he swallows hard.

I'm going to help him tell the truth.

"I know you're a good boy, and I'm sure you're usually honest with me. But I'm your mother, and I always know when you're lying to me. I know you're not telling me the truth right now" I explain, moving closer to his face, and touching his hair gently. "Now I'm going to ask you to be honest with me, and you'll have only one chance to do just that" I add, smiling at him wickedly. "If you really want me to stay with you, you better not hide what you're feeling. You got that?"

Jason's poker face is perfect when he nods. I can tell he's very nervous and somewhat fearful, but he's trying to keep a calm expression, pretending he's not affected by anything I say, but I need to know what's wrong with him, and this is the only way I know I can force him to open up to me.

I don't think he'll be able to resist my authority and my power over him for much longer, and I don't intend to lose this battle.

"Okay, then. So, if you tell me the truth right now, I'll immediately walk down the stairs and tell Mario to leave our house, he'll get to his car and drive away, and then I'll come here to your room and I'll do everything you need. We'll be alone here in this room, just the two of us." I swear, moving one of my hands to his chest. "But if you lie to me again," I threaten, clawing his torso with my long nails, pressing harder, digging my fingers deeper into his skin. "I will leave you here, with your feigned sickness, I'll close your bedroom door, and I'll go to the living room to make sure that my date has a really great time tonight."

I pause my slightly threatening speech for a second, looking deeply into his eyes. My son's breath hitches when my fingers scratch a little deeper into his chest, but he doesn't let a single sound escape from his mouth.

"So, what's it going to be, young man... Are you gonna be honest with your mom and tell me what's bothering you, or will you be truly able to lie to me while you look me in the eye?"

Jason gulps down heavily and licks his lips, looking me in the eyes for a moment before averting his gaze, clearly thinking about my proposition.

"I... I... I don't think... Mom, please" he pleads, trying to grab both my hands again, squeezing them hard. "Can't we just forget it? Can't you just stay here with me?"

"Answer the question" I demand. "Or I'll walk away, and you'll have to take care of yourself, while I have a good time with Mario. Do you think you're capable of handling that, honey?"

He breathes deeply and squeezes my hands even harder. He's so frustrated that I feel like I could use my powers on him any time.

"I... I..." he murmurs.

"Go on" I encourage him, and he opens his mouth to speak.

"I think I'm... O-Okay. It's true, mom. I'm... Kind of jealous, I guess. I don't want you to be with him and I don't like him being here..."

I feel a rush of adrenaline. He admitted it.

"Oh, mom, please forgive me! I know I'm being selfish, but-"

I abruptly silence my boy, placing my index finger right on his lips.

"Good. I'll come back in a minute, baby" I stand up immediately and let go of his hands and walk towards the door. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" I add when I turn around, grinning at my son.

My steps are firmer than ever now, while I make sure my son's door is open so he can hear the scene that's going to take place downstairs. I find Mario just some seconds later, looking at me in the living room, expecting some explanation of what happened.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

I smile at him and shake my head. I point upstairs. "It's Jason... He's not feeling too well and... Well, I happen to be a good mom and I think it's time to take care of him. Maybe it'd be best for you to leave, Mario" I say, starting to turn away from him.

By the look on his face, I don't know if he understands what I'm telling him.

"Did I say something wrong, or..." He begins, but before he can finish speaking, I interrupt him.

"What? No, you said nothing wrong. But my son needs me right now, and you know... Jason will always come first." I make sure I say that loud enough. "It's been a pleasure, really. Thank you for coming tonight, it was great. I'll text you tomorrow, ok?" I lie, with a fake smile on my face.

"I can stay and help you if you need it. I'm a doctor, you say he's feeling bad? I can-"

"That's very kind of you, but you should go now" I interrupt him again. "I'll take care of him, don't worry."

Mario seems to understand the situation and decides not to insist any further. Then I walk him to the front door, without giving him any more explanation than that. While we say our goodbyes and all, I try to be as polite as I can when I feel my panties wetting at the image of Jason waiting for me desperately in his bed. As soon as I close it behind him, I rush back upstairs to my room.

"Just five minutes, baby! I'm changing into something more comfortable!"

The sexy sky-blue nightgown I've changed into is short and a little loose, barely reaching my mid-thigh. My legs look heavy, completely exposed, and there's a small wet spot in the surface of my underwear.

The neckline is cut low, making my cleavage long enough to cover me decently, but it's definitely sexier than my usual sleeping clothes. My enormous tits, huge and almost bursting out, cannot be hidden in there, and my thick nipples are hard and poking through the fabric.

I touch my clit with my fingertip, lightly, getting damp with my juices, and I squeeze my thighs together, trying unsuccessfully to calm down.

Oh, God. I'm gonna kill that boy looking like this.

I enter my son's room slowly, checking if he's still awake. He's right there, exactly in the same position I left him some minutes ago: sitting on his bed, shirtless, with only his shorts and his sheets around his body. My boy's biting his lip nervously, glancing at me, observing me as I come into his room and watch him with hunger.

I sit right next to him on the bed, crossing my legs on the side of his. I caress his shoulders, and gently rub his neck with my right hand, while the left one moves to his hair, pulling him closer to me.

My son trembles at my touch, and his eyes are filled with desire and fear.

"I'm so sorry, mom..." he murmurs, looking away from me. "I'm sorry... You didn't have to make him leave..."

"Shhh. Don't apologize. I know you didn't mean to" I assure him, gently stroking his cheek. "But now I'm here with you, it's all that matters. Not with him" I whisper, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, trying to calm myself.

I pull him closer to me, patting my own chest to indicate where his cheek should be resting. He kneels and places his head right on the upper part of my enormous bosoms, way bigger than his own head, and I press my massive globes against my son's soft skin. He leans forward until his nose touches my large tit flesh, and I let him rest there, snuggling him. I stroke his head softly with my free hand, massaging his scalp and running my fingertips along his ears, stroking them lightly.

Then I lie down on the bed, bringing my son with me by pulling him to me tightly, while he nuzzles his face on my breasts, breathing deeply, trying to get his mind off things, I suppose. I feel the heat of his breath against my skin, and he keeps sniffing my scent while he's lying against me.

I pull his face upward and kiss him tenderly on the forehead. "Oh, Jason... You can't deny you're such a mommy's boy now, can you?

He doesn't respond, but I know he wants to say 'yes'.

I run my hands around his sides, touching his muscles gently. His body is firm and toned, and I can feel his young softness underneath my fingers.

Jason moves his head slightly, resting it directly between both of my breasts, and his ear is pressed against my heavy, fleshy mound. I wrap my arms around him and pull his face tighter between my basketball-size bosoms.

"You smell great, Jason," I say, taking a whiff of his hair "I could eat you right now, hun" I say, licking my lips and breathing heavily on my son.

"You too, mom" he says. "You have the best fragrance in the world."

I giggle and kiss him on his temple again.

"Do you like where your head's resting, baby? Are you comfortable?" I ask, playing with his hair.

He nods silently.

"You're the most handsome boy I've ever seen" I put his right leg over my own, wrapping it around me, with my left limb pressing firmly against his groin area.

I can't tell he's hard, but I'm not going to say anything about it.

Not yet.

"You're beautiful too, mom" Jason whispers.

I chuckle. "Oh honey, thanks. Do you really think so? I'm not wearing any makeup right now!" I tease him.

"You don't need it. Your... Your natural beauty is more than enough" he answers shyly.

Jason kisses my chest's skin, and I see his nostrils fill with my perfume, which is turning me on immensely. I don't know how much time I'll be able to hide my wetness, but I'm willing to do anything for him, and for this to work.

"How does mom make you feel, sweetheart?" I ask, loving every second.

"It feels great" he says, facing me now, looking straight into my eyes. I see in his big, blue eyes like mine that he's sincere about it.

I move my hands to the back of his head, pushing him closer to me, holding him there for a moment, and then moving them back down my son's body, to his back. Jason's eyes are almost closed now, but he's still staring at me.

I can feel his heartbeat. I can sense in my lungs once again his damn good scent, his dry sweat, and his musk.

I pet his head and back gently, enjoying his arousal growing stronger and harder against my thigh, and knowing he wants more from me than just affectionate words.

"Jason, sweetheart, listen to me. I know what I told you last time when we talked about... That night when I... You know. Back then, I knew I shouldn't have done those things, I didn't seem to understand why I did what I did... But I want to make it clear for you" I explain, cupping his cheeks with my hands. "I don't regret anything that happened that night. I know it's wrong, because I'm your mother, and I should've never taken advantage of you that way. But... You're my baby boy, Jason, and you're a handsome young man" I pause, kissing his cheek "And... You're fourteen now, sweetheart. You're not a child anymore. And you're old enough to know what you want. It's true, you're still my baby, but you're a man now." I look straight into his eyes and hold his gaze for a moment "Do you get what I'm saying?" I ask, rubbing my leg against his hard bulge.

"Jason, sweetheart, listen to me. I know what I told you last time when we talked about... That night when I... You know. Back then, I knew I shouldn't have done those things, I didn't seem to understand why I did what I did... But I want to make it clear for you" I explain, cupping his cheeks with my hands. "I don't regret anything that happened that night. I know it's wrong, because I'm your mother, and I should've never taken advantage of you that way. But... You're my baby boy, Jason, and you're a handsome young man" I pause, kissing his cheek "And... You're fourteen now, sweetheart. You're not a child anymore. And you're old enough to know what you want. It's true, you're still my baby, but you're a man now." I look straight into his eyes and hold his gaze for a moment "Do you get what I'm saying?" I ask, rubbing my leg against his hard bulge.

"I... I think I get it, mom" he replies.

I kiss his forehead tenderly and stroke his hair again.

"I love you so much, Jason. I know you might think I'm an awful person for doing this to you... But you have to understand that... That..." I stop myself to take a deep breath. "That I'm trying to make you happy."

I lean my head back and rest it against the pillow, closing my eyes, and he leans in closer to my neck.

"Do you feel happy right now, baby?" I ask him.

He nods slowly.

"Yes, mom... You always make me feel good" he whispers.

I kiss him softly on his cheek and smile at him.

"I'm glad. I hope I can make you feel good for a long time to come" I say, caressing his face tenderly. "Now, tell me, do you want me to kiss you? Do you want your mom to kiss you?" I ask, stroking my fingers on his chin.

I watch Jason gulp down heavily. His eyes are wide open and filled with lust, but he's still scared of what's coming next.

He blinks.

He hesitates.

I push his head toward me, closing the distance, since I don't want him to overthink now. I don't want to take advantage of my own child, but I know he wants this just as much as I do. I've felt his lust for me for months now, and if he wants to be treated like an adult, then I'm willing to show him what it feels like to be one.

My face moves forward just enough to meet his, and our mouths touch softly. My teenage young man is tentative, and unsure, and the kiss lingers for a few seconds, with his lips frozen It's a much sweeter kiss than it was the first time, with him not trying to run away, but with his heart still beating hard on his chest.

Suddenly, my boy opens his mouth and tries to deepen the kiss, pressing himself further against me this time. He seems somewhat vigorous in his moves, and he looks kind of confident but also inept. He doesn't understand I should be the one in control here.

I push him away gently, forcing us to break the kiss.

"Hey, hey, easy now" I laugh. "That's too bold, sweetie. Don't be so impatient."

I need to teach him how to do it properly.

He pulls away from me suddenly, leaving my lips slightly dry.

"Sorry, mom. I just thought..." He's scared, worried.

"No, it's okay, Jason. You just need some practice. Follow my lead" I say, caressing his back. "And remember: take it easy. I want to feel your love, baby" I tell him, squeezing his shoulder and leaning closer to him. He inhales deeply, catching my sweet fragrance, and lets out a long breath.

I place my hand on his nape again, and my heart beats faster as I hear his quickened breathing, his body trembling a little. I move up and kiss him once more, making our lips meet, and letting our tongues slip inside each other's mouths for the first time in the night. Jason's hesitant, but he starts to kiss me back passionately and eagerly, moaning a little and exhaling deeply as I lick the back of his teeth.

I break the kiss again and look at him. He's breathing hard, his face is flushed, and I know he's really enjoying our time together, but not as much as me. How can I be so happy when I'm making my fourteen-year-old child do this with me?

"Good job," I tell him, and he gives me a shy smile back.

"You taste a little bit of wine."

I kiss his forehead, and he puts his arms around my waist. I look at him carefully, noticing something strange in his behavior now, as if he looked nervous again. I guess everything's happening too fast for him, so I try to slow down a little, caressing his back and neck. But another sentence I've told myself before hits my mind.

Don't let him overthink, Sam.

"Keep kissing me, baby" I say quietly, keeping my voice low so nobody else in the world can hear us. I move my hand lower on his back and start caressing his teen, lovely ass cheeks. He moans and pushes his face against mine, and I can taste his saliva in my mouth.

He grinds his hips against my thighs, pushing his hard erection against my legs, and with my palm on his buttocks, I force him to do just that.

I gasp. He's getting better with his mouth every second.

"That's it, Jason. Don't stop kissing me" I say, while my hand goes inside his underwear, and I grab his beautiful little butt. I squeeze him hard, and he lets out a little moan. His lips and tongue are everywhere now, but I'm the one leading the kiss, pressing his face harder but gently against me, while my nails dig deep into his butt skin.

I bite his lower lip and he shudders a little, letting me feel his excitement growing more and more, harder than ever.

"See? That feels much better" I tell him, smiling proudly to my son.

He looks at my tits again, but his eyebrows are furrowed.

"Mom," he says "are you sure you're not gonna regret this later? Like last time, I mean..."

His face is filled with guilt, but he clearly looks horny and impatient, and I don't think I care anymore about my moral code. At least for now.

"Are you sure you won't, baby? You can tell me if you're not comfortable. As I said, you're fourteen now" I remind him "You're old enough to make your own decisions."

But I know I'll be the one helping him make the right choices.

"You can tell me if you want to stop." I continue, even if I know I wouldn't be able to stop at this point. I'd just go on until he begged me to stop, hoping he'd never do that, no matter how uncomfortable and confused he might get. "I'm your mother, and I'm supposed to take care of you, but I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you into doing anything you don't want. If you don't like what we're doing now, you just have to tell me, and I'll stop at once. No matter what" I lie to him, for the umpteenth time in his life.

I see him hesitate for a moment, but he nods. "I'm fine, mom" he replies with determination, and I can tell by his expression he means it.

"Are you sure?" I ask him again.

He nods again, and I lean forward to wet his lips one more time with my tongue, letting it play with my teenage mouth. I run my fingers through his thick brown hair and his ass, pulling him tighter against my body. I break off the kiss to slowly lick his top lip, and then I suck on it, tasting his warm salty sweetness.

"Do you like kissing me?"

"I… I like the way you do it, mom" he gasps.

I love the sound of the word 'mom' rolling down his mouth cavity.

"I like it too, Jason. I like it very much" I whisper to him, rubbing his butt harder with my palm.

I feel my nipples hardening again, and his eyes go wide at the sight of his mother's chest covered by the thin, sexy nightgown. My tits are almost bursting out from the fabric, and my son's mouth is watering just by looking at them.

"Why do you like them so much, honey?" I whisper, biting his ear, running my tongue across his jawline, and trying to drive him crazy with pleasure. I feel his penis throbbing against my leg in a constant rhythm between kisses and licking sounds.

He must be turned on beyond belief right now.

"I know you can't help yourself" I say, smirking. "It's just cute... What do you like about your mom's boobs so much?" I tease. My boy pulls away a bit and looks at me hesitantly in the eye, still shy when I confront his big boob fetish. "Oh, come on, Jason!" I laugh. "We've talked about this before! Do you really think I don't notice the way you look at them all the time?" I pull him towards me and wrap my arm around his back. "I mean, you really enjoy looking at my chest, don't you, dear?"

He swallows, nodding. "Yes" he whispers, fearing he might upset me.

But I'm a sick mom, so pleased to see him finally open up about what he likes about me, and so fucking thrilled to have my son looking at me that way.

"And... Why do you like them? Tell me, sweetheart, please. I promise I won't get mad."

"They're... they're just the way I like..." He murmurs, sounding unsure.

He's staring at them as if he was hypnotized, and I feel a sudden urge to rip the clothes off the both of us and fuck him silly right here before anyone sees us.

"Don't you think they are... Too big, maybe?"

Jason frowns at those words, as he knows he shouldn't be answering this. It must be so embarrassing for him to hear his mom saying that, but he keeps staring at my tits.

"No, mom... They... They're big, for sure, really big, but... They are perfect, mom... Just perfect" he stutters, clearly feeling conflicted by what he's hearing himself say.

"Perfect?" I repeat, raising my eyebrow.

"Yes, yes mom... They're amazingly huge. They look so soft, and... They are... so beautiful! I can't believe you have such a great body, mom! Your boobs are so incredible, Mom, just..." He starts talking fast, and he's almost stammering now, so hard against my thick leg. "I... Can't believe you're my mom, sometimes."

His words make my heart explode. The thought that this gorgeous boy is so obsessed with his mom's breasts sends shivers up my spine and I can't help but smile happily.

"I'm your mom, Jason" I whisper in his ear. "But you're a boy, too. I know you've been curious about these like you've been curious about me" I see he's blushing hard right now. "You used to see them a lot when you were younger, but I feel like you need an update, right?"

My son breaks away from me and sits straight. He seems nervous, but also excited when I sit up too, in front of him, facing each other. I touch his chin gently, making him look at me. My nipples are so hard that the fabric feels like a steel ring wrapped around them, and my panties are soaked with my pussy juice.

"Do you want to see them, baby? Remember I like it when you're honest..." I encourage him with a smile, while I start pinching my right nipple, twisting it over the fabric.

"I want to..." He whispers, his voice shaking. I take my other hand, cupping my left tit and squeezing, feeling the heavy flesh in my palm.

I get near him, taking his face in my hands, kissing him hungrily. Our tongues intertwine, exploring our mouths. "What's the magic word?"

"Please, mom. I want to see them" he pleads, his lips still wet from our kiss.

I chuckle and look at him. He seems hopeless, desperate to see my tits. He can't hide that big boner he's having inside his briefs, and I'm more than happy to see it.

I remove my nightgown's straps slowly, and then I introduce my hand in the cloth, grabbing my right breast, forcing the enormous mass of flesh outside the fabric.

Jason takes a deep breath when he sees my huge mammoth jug for the first time. They are so large, so heavy, so firm and round, even at forty-three, that he looks at it astonished, and he doesn't know what to say. I giggle and let my other breast outside, showing him my smooth dark areolas, and my big, erect nipples, swollen from arousal. Jason's mouth is open in disbelief, with his eyes glued to them.

My pussy is probably the wettest thing in the world now, just like his watering mouth.

"Well... What do you think? Are they pretty?" I ask him with a little smile, squeezing them together.

"Y-yes" he stammers, swallowing loudly. He tries to move his eyes away, but he finds himself looking again. And again. And again. Until he just can't stop staring at them.

"You want to touch them, don't you? Go ahead, sweetie. Feel them, if you want." I turn to give him access, spreading my arms. He gets closer slowly, and I grab his forearm, placing his palm flat onto my bust.

His hand looks so small in comparison with the size of my bosoms that it almost makes me smile, and my nipples seem thicker than his fingers as his hand rests paralyzed on my skin.

"They're so warm" he says. "They feel so soft, mom... And firm at the same time."

His touch is sort of erratic and awkward, like a timid kitten pawing at its mother's belly. I caress his cheek and look him in the eye. "You can touch them all you want, baby. They're yours. They feel great, don't they?" I say, pushing his hand down, and placing the other one against my other breast, until he grabs them firmly with both of them, holding my enormous tits from the lowest part, so he can feel the pounds of flesh all over his palms.

I'm sure they weigh tons.

I bet it's not bad for a fourteen-year-old boy that the first time he touches a real pair of boobs, it's his mother's heavy, massive ones.

"Yeah, mom, they're awesome..." he breathes out, smiling. "They hang, but... They're beautiful. And they're so heavy. I just... Don't understand how you can carry them all the time."

I can't help but chuckle.

"They are very heavy, that's true. Sometimes my back hurts a little, but I'd say it has more pros than cons, right?" I wink at him teasingly.

Jason laughs shyly, still trying to hide his feelings. "Yes, definitely."

I just can't get enough of my son. His touch is so gentle and tender, never aggressive, and I love it.

I take his hand and kiss it on his palm, while his other hand still holds and fondles my breast. "Can I kiss you again, sweetie? You can keep touching them if you want to" I whisper, caressing his hand with my fingertips.

My baby nods slowly, and I push him to lie down on the bed, keeping his hands busy on my chest. I straddle over him, sitting on his hips and placing my knees on either side of him, resting my weight on his body, making it easier for my big tits to rest on his hands given that I'm a bit taller than him.

Then I kneel on his face, pressing my tits against his chest, but my son doesn't seem to be willing to release them from his hands. My mouth travels across his jaw and his neck, leaning to kiss his beautiful face and soft lips. His tongue darts out clingily to lick my lips, and I return the favor, tasting his mouth.

When I put my hands on his teen abs and run them along his smooth skin, he moans at my touch. "My son's body is so perfect... Look at these gorgeous abs, honey..." I tell him, massaging his abdomen and chest. "My god, look how sexy you are, my boy."

I can tell my son's enjoying the compliment, considering he can't help but smile.

I feel his teenage cock pressing against the fabric of my panties, and it's driving me crazy. I feel the bulge growing larger under me as my boy pushes his hips against my pantie-covered pussy, and I kiss him deeply, sucking his tongue with passion.

"Are you hard for your mom, baby?" I purr in his ear, nibbling it with my sharp teeth.

"Mom..." he pants, squirming under me. "I-I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Jason. It feels good, actually. A young man like you, so aroused by his mother. I hope I won't disappoint you."

My hand lowers down to his waist, gently scratching his skin with my long-manicured nails and tracing circles on his abdomen, sliding toward his groin. I tickle him, playfully, enjoying the reaction of his body. "Don't worry, sweetheart," I whisper to him, stroking his abs with the tips of my fingers. "We'll make it go away."

Jason gulps, his grey-blue eyes like mine looking up at me expectantly. I know he's scared and conflicted about what I'm going to do, but he doesn't dare to protest.

"Let's see..." I tell him when my hand reaches his rigid cock and wrap my fingers around the shaft, only the fabric of his shorts between my fingers and his beautiful penis. The precum on the tip is damping the cloth, making my fingers just a little bit sticky. "Oh, baby... I knew you'd be big, but this is just... Wow," I breathe out, exaggerating the shock on my face "you're so big for your age. It feels thicker than I imagined" I tell, moving my hand slowly up and down the shaft, rubbing the pre-cum all over the fabric.

"Mom... Please..." he murmurs, almost embarrassed, but I ignore his plead. Jason trembles when I touch him, closing his eyes tight and biting his lip to keep quiet. He tries to relax when he feels my delicate touches, making circles on his glans with my fingernails, and then moving downward to his balls.

I can't help but to laugh almost hysterically. He's so young and inexperienced, only fourteen, and I'm his first ever woman to touch this cock.

Why is he not touching my tits anymore?

I grab his forearm, guiding his palm to my chest, forcing him to squeeze them again. My son opens his eyes slowly as if he's waking up from a dream, and when he realizes his hand is on my breasts again, he immediately starts fondling them with force. After that, I kneel down again and start licking his lips, sucking his neck, kissing and biting him all over his face.

"That's it, sweetie... Just like that. You don't need to hold back..." I purr in his ear, while I continue stroking his cock through the fabric of his underwear.

The amount of precum is so wild I can feel it moistening my fingers. It's warm and sticky, and it smells nice. The feeling of his young cock almost pulsating in my grip and the sight of his beautiful face are making me hornier than ever.

"God, mom!" he grunts.

So obedient and submissive to his mom.

When I reach the waistband, my son gives a hard squeeze to my tits, making me moan, and then I slide my hand under the fabric of his underwear, touching his pubic hair, short and soft. His teenage dick is warm, and throbbing, and at the very moment I caress his shaft, squeezing and stroking it, I feel all the maternal instincts awaken in me.

My boy moans loudly when he feels my motherly hand on his cock, but he still doesn't dare to do anything more than hold my breasts and letting my kisses wander down his neck and shoulders, with my long, brown hair surrounding him. His breath is deep and heavy, and his eyes are half-closed now, as I continue to touch him.

"Moooomm" he gasps when I start moving my hand up and down on his manhood inside his underwear.

"I wanna see it" I whisper, looking him straight in the eye. "I want to see my son's cock."

He blinks a couple of times, nodding anyway, and I move back, sitting on his legs now. I pull his shorts down, and his cock springs up immediately, fluttering, and hard, already oozing precum.

My son's cock in my hand, between my fingers, is probably the most stunning thing I've seen in my life as a mother.

It certainly looks pretty thick to be a teenage cock, and its length must be between six and seven inches long in my eye's judgment. The skin is soft, his foreskin isn't completely retracted, and the head bulges slightly, covered with foam of precum. He's got just some pubic hair, short and brown, around his base, and he's all smooth and hairless everywhere else. His glans look a little reddish at the tip, with veins and blood pumping underneath his skin on his shaft, traveling down to his balls.

With his cock in my hand for the first time since I bathed him when he was little, I feel a strange sensation of warmth and pride I haven't felt for years. I feel like this is the motherliest thing I've done in my life so far.

My boy looks at me with a mixture of shyness and lust, as I run my thumb along the top of his cock, caressing his glans and playing with the liquid leaking out of his tip. I move my hand again, slowly, up and down on his young erection, starting to massage the head with my palm, spreading his precum all over his glans and shaft.

Then, just like that, some seconds after I started holding his cock in my hand, he starts to pump suddenly.

"Mom! I think I'm gonna...!" He growls loudly, closing his eyes and thrusting his hips upward lightly. Then his thick pretty cock begins pulsating harder, and I keep my grip and my gentle strokes, watching his face becoming ecstatic.

"I'm... Oh, fuck, Mom!" He moans, panting heavily, his body tense underneath me.

I hold his cock in my grasp, pumping his dick just a little faster and tighter. Jason begins trembling disproportionately, unable to control the pleasure of his orgasm, and he cries out loud as he reaches his climax.

He thrusts his cock once more, and his entire body is shaking from head to toe, when Jason's cum starts to spurt out of his dick, squirting into the air and coating my fingers and his abdomen.

I can't stop looking at this incredible scene: my son's face contorted in absolute bliss, me jerking his beautiful cock, spurting rope after rope of his white cream onto my hand and his stomach, my mouth wide open, silently cheering him on. His semen spills from his cock onto my hand, and I can't help but enjoy feeling the hot liquid, wondering how it will taste.

There's so much!

I can't believe how much he's shooting burst after burst! And he just keeps bumping, filling my fingers, drooling everywhere.

I smile down at my son's face, with his eyes closed now, admiring our mess on his chest and stomach. I grab the sheets with my free hand to keep myself from falling forward, and my other hand never stops jerking him off, milking him for all he's got. My son is totally oblivious to what's happening, and his face is pure ecstasy, as he's being pumped full of pleasure.

"Mom... That was... wow..." he whispers, his eyes still closed.

"I have to say, that was one hell of a load" I can't help but smile widely at that, gazing at my teenage baby laying there, his legs under me, his dick leaking sperm on his belly.

My touch becomes more tender and slower, and I continue milking the last drops out of him, as he breathes heavily.

My son blushes, opening his eyes slowly. His cheeks are flushed red, and his jawline is slackened. I smile down at him, I take his hand in mine, the free one, and kiss his palm.

"Well, baby," I coo. "I think you made a little mess, didn't you?"

He looks down at his abdomen, and then at my hand, his eyes are still a little hazy, but he doesn't say a word.

"I'd say it was worth it to be honest with me, wasn't it?" I say, laughing softly, my hands still holding his cock.

"I... I... What can I answer to that, mom?" He chuckles shyly, his face still red.

I laugh and kiss his lips tenderly. "You don't need to answer. I was just teasing you."

While I keep massaging his softening knob slowly, I see him gulp, and I wonder if he's thinking about asking me to let his penis rest.

"I didn't last long, did I?" he asks instead.

"Don't be silly, baby. It's the first time you've been touched like that by a woman, of course, you wouldn't last long." I tell him, gently, while I keep playing with his cock.

His hand's still resting on my breast, but he looks too tired to keep fondling them now, even if his cock seems to be hardening again in my hand, just one minute after cumming. How hot would it be to give my fourteen-year-old son a second orgasm with my hand again, using his own semen as lube?

"You know, Jason," I tell him, staring right into his eyes, "I think I'm gonna love to jerk off my baby boy."

"Oh, god, mom... Please... You keep talking like..." He whimpers, and I start pumping him again.

"Like what, Jason?" I purr. "Like what, honey?"

He's breathing fast, and I know he's not going to be able to last much longer.

"Like... like a mother... I'm... It's kinda weird..." He grunts, his eyes filled with lust one more time.

I keep jacking him off, slowly and gently, making his dick harder and harder again. "Like a mother?" I giggle, kissing his lips again. "Baby, I am your mother. I'm allowed to talk like that" I purr, sucking his lower lip and pulling it slowly with my teeth. "Why don't you let yourself enjoy it a little more? Let your mom play with you."

I lick the length of his neck and move to his ear, while I continue to pump his cock. I nibble on his earlobe, licking inside the cavity, and then I blow hot air on the sensitive skin. His cock is already twitching again, and his cheeks are burning red.

"Oh, fuck..." he grunts, closing his eyes and bucking his hips up against my hand. "Ah... Mom! It's sensitive" Jason says, complaining that his mom is touching him maybe too hard.

"Sorry, sweetheart. But it's hard again, isn't it?" I chuckle in a soothing voice. "A good mom should always be ready for her baby."

"Mom! I..." he tries to protest, but he gives in quickly.

I can tell he's still a little unsure about all this. He's clearly confused and conflicted, and he's not used to feeling this way, but I need to make him cum again to make all his doubts disappear.

"I know it's weird, honey" I whisper, moving my head down to his face. "But I wanna make you feel good. I'm your mom, Jason. I love you."

His cock twitches in my hand, and I start jerking him off faster, with my eyes fixed on his face. My son looks like he's in heaven, his eyes half-closed and his mouth wide open.

Without releasing his penis, I lie next to him, turning towards him and putting my naked big breast on his left side. He wraps his arm around my neck and hugs me tight, so I put my head on his shoulder, listening to the pounding of his heart against my ear. I rub his cock affectionately, scrubbing his cum with my palm on his surface.

"It's so hot to touch you, Jason" I purr in his ear, kissing his neck and nibbling his skin. "You're such a handsome boy, my baby boy..." I whisper. "Don't you feel comfortable with your mom talking this way to you? Doesn't it turn you on?"

He moans in response, his eyes still closed. He thrusts his hips against my hand, trying to make me stroke him harder. He's hornier than ever, and his cock is dripping precum nonstop, mixed with the semen from his previous orgasm. I begin jerking harder when I kiss him again, making him moan into my lips and my tits shudder with the move of my arm.

Jason sighs heavily now, letting himself go, and it makes me happy seeing him like this. I want him to enjoy this moment, to make him feel good.

In a way, I believe this isn't just about me and my lustful needs. I love him so much and I just want to make him happy, and if my hand on his cock is what's making him feel better, then I'm happy to keep stroking him until he's completely spent.

My son grabs my breast with his free hand, squeezing it and feeling the weight of it in his palm.

"That's it, darling." I coax him. "Let your mind wander away and focus only on me. Focus on your mom touching you."

I suck his neck hard, pressing my lips around it, biting him softly. I nibble on his earlobe, which causes his body to shake violently. I pull away from his neck, kissing him passionately, grabbing his cock firmly between my fingers, and he moans in my mouth, thrusting his hips upward.

"Oh God!" he whimpers, trying to relax by lying flat.

He holds my tit tighter, digging his fingers into my flesh so hard that it hurts a little. My pussy gets even wetter hearing his groans, and I wouldn't be surprised if everyone in our neighborhood was able to hear my son now, but I couldn't care less.

Jason's cock is so beautiful and sexy in my hand, and I can't get enough of his young hardness in my grip, of the way he's moaning into my lips, of his body's reactions when I kiss him.

"Mom! Mom! Mom! Moooom!" He grunts. "Oh, Mom!" He screams suddenly, his whole body shaking.

"Look at me while you cum!" I demand, staring at his beautiful face.

His beautiful, young gaze goes wide staring at me.

At the same person that gave birth to him.

The woman who raised him since he was born and used her breasts to nurse him.

Jason digs his fingers deeper into my breast, causing me even more pain, when I start to squeeze his cock harder. His cock throbs faster and faster, his breathing becomes erratic, and he can't stop looking at my face. He's staring right into my eyes, and his face is so tense now I can tell he's about to cum again.

"Mmmh, Mom!" He lets out a low moan. "I'm gonna..."

My son's body goes stiff, and then all hell breaks loose. He arches his back, moving his pelvis upwards, pushing his hips against my hand again. His breathing grows heavy, searching for the air he lacks, while my tits tremble. His muscles contract and his body twitches several times, his balls jumping against my wrist, spitting forth ropes of jizz.

"Yes, baby! Do it!" I whisper loudly into his ear. "Just do it, Jason! You wanted to show me you've become a man, right? Then prove it. Cum for me, my gorgeous son!"

Screaming next to my left cheek and buckling his knees, my boy pumps his dick for the second time tonight, his body convulsing, and I feel the pulsing of his warm cum all over my hand again. I expected much less spunk this second time, but apparently, his balls were ready to shoot another load just as abundant as the first one, and I can't help grunting as my son's body shakes uncontrollably.

The room becomes filled with his deep, masculine moans and my breathy whispers.

I hold him tightly in my arms and watch as his seed drips down on my hand again, mixing with his preceding cum. I play with the excess of it, rubbing it into his glans, smearing the warm, slippery sperm all over his dick, his balls, and his pubis, while I'm still pumping him gently. I kiss him lovingly, feeling his hands caressing my breasts, and then his whole-body collapses on the bed again after all the tension, almost lifeless.

He pants hard, trying to regain his breath, and I keep my hand wrapped around his cock, playing with his cockhead.

"Wow, Jason. There's so much of it... You shot a lot again, didn't you?" I ask him, and he nods slightly, exhausted.

"It was so... So... Good" he mutters tiredly.

I kiss his chest, licking his sweat, and tasting his salty skin. I smile and look at my son's face again, kissing him tenderly on the lips, and I move my hand away from his cock, but keep it close to his groin, resting it on his hip. "I know."

He opens his eyes half-way, staring at me, still flushed. "Mom, I... I don't know what to think anymore..." he murmurs, sounding embarrassed.

"Hey, it's okay, Jason" I whisper, caressing his cheek. "Just enjoy the moment, honey. We can talk about this tomorrow if you want to, okay? Just lay here and relax with me, baby."

Slowly, Jason's eyes close again, and he sighs deeply, while I hug him to me, keeping my hand on his waist, caressing his skin with my fingertips stained with teenage semen. Jason's now so relaxed while I play with his soft teenage penis that he falls asleep soon afterward.

I stay awake for some seconds, resting beside him, playing with his squashy shaft and abs, smelling his scent, and enjoying the warmth emanating from within him.

And I'm still so horny. So damn wet for him, while he's sound asleep.

Now it's my time, and I know it.

My left hand roams lazily towards my face after staring lustfully at the thick white cream on my palm and fingers. I look at the warm cum all over my hand, and my stomach growls hungrily, craving more. I feel like a perverted old woman when I bring my hand to my mouth and with no hesitation lick my fingers and taste the essence of my son's manhood for the first time.

I moan, and my pussy clenches at the sudden pleasure I feel.

It's so hot. So warm, sticky, and salty.

How is it possible that such a thing tastes so good? I've always liked semen, but this one feels even better than usual on my tongue.

Is it because it's my son's? I just know that's not the most scientific answer, but I can't avoid thinking that way. I swallow, and I taste it again until I lick my palm clean, and then my fingertips, savoring every little bit.

Then, I look at the remaining of his cum on his stomach and around his manhood, and I wish I could restrain myself from the idea that has crossed my mind.

I look once again at Jason, and I check he's really asleep, so I can reach for the last ropes of semen, which is a lot, as if I was trying to collect them like an animal in the wild, making my fingers and palm fully wet with my son's still warm cum. I remove my underwear, still moist with my liquids, and my sticky hand slides down between my legs, feeling the heat growing rapidly.

My clit feels warm with my son's seed on my filthy fingers, and my stare, watching Jason sleeping peacefully, helps me masturbate at the sight of his gorgeous face.

This is fucking crazy.

But here I am, masturbating with my son's semen, knowing he could tell someone about us, and conscious I could end up arrested, thrown into jail, lose custody of Jason forever, having to spend the rest of my life in prison.

But none of these thoughts stop me from rubbing my clit with Jason's spunk. I stroke it vigorously, sliding my fingers faster, using the last few drops of juice to make my cunt even wetter.

I can smell my own liquids, mixed with his, and the thought of what we've done tonight is just driving me wild.

"Mmmh, Jason" I moan, almost whispering, caressing my slit and rubbing my labia, pushing two fingers inside my pussy, feeling the liquid dripping down on the sheets.

Seconds later, my cunt gushes out my own fluids, making a mess all over my thighs, and I keep touching myself until my body is trembling with ecstasy. When I start cumming, I place my hand on Jason's forearm, not squeezing it hard, so I don't wake him up, but needing to feel his body at this moment.

I let out a long moan, arching my back and squashing my boobs together with my free arm.

I feel my pussy spasm and the intense pleasure of the orgasm runs through my whole body, feeling as if I could float away. I bite my lips and grunt loudly, panting in pleasure as the sensation of my climax grows stronger. I let my head fall on the pillow, next to Jason's neck, and I keep rubbing myself until my muscles stop trembling, until the wave of pleasure has gone away.

I lie quietly for a few seconds, recovering from my orgasm, but then I feel Jason's body moving next to mine, and I open my eyes to look at him. He's waking up, with his almost closed eyes and his disheveled hair.

"Mom, you okay?" He asks in a sleepy voice.

I chuckle, still trembling somehow, and wipe off my sweat-covered forehead with the back of my hand.

"Yes, sweetie. I am. You can go back to sleep" I say, patting his cheek lightly.

He sighs, and turns over, resting his head on the pillow and falling asleep again. I kiss his shoulder and lay there with him until he's fast asleep.

I look at the clock in his room: 2 a.m.

Shit! I've been playing with my son for this long?

I get up from the bed, fix my nightgown, and walk to the door. I turn around to look at my boy, lying on his side, sleeping peacefully.

I smile and take a deep breath.

"Goodnight, Jason. See you tomorrow morning, baby." I whisper, but he doesn't seem to hear me. "I love you."

I leave his room and lock the door behind me, walking to my own room, making my steps as silent as possible.

I enter my bedroom, and sit down on my mattress, still wearing my damp, messy panties, feeling so dirty that I should be ashamed of myself, but I don't regret any single thing that happened tonight. I crawl into my bed, maybe too tired to sleep just yet, and I think about all the things I've done tonight.

Two huge loads of sperm squirted from my son's nuts today, and both have been pumped out by my own hands. His mom's hands.

"You're such a naughty mother" I say to myself in a low voice.

…

What's going to happen now?

Notes:

I expect some feedback from you! I'm still trying to improve my writing, so don't hesitate to tell me what you think.

Hope you liked this one!

Chapter 7: The New Deal

Notes:

Hello everyone!

I made some changes in the previous chapters, but nothing noteworthy, just some grammar fixes. This one was going to be a very long chapter (actually the longest so far), but I believe it was going to be too much, so I decided to divide it into two chapters. And I think it makes more sense now.

Also, I don't know how much I'm going to be able to write within the next weeks, so maybe updates come once every two weeks, we'll see. It'll depend on how I cope with my rutine.

Thanks for all the support and good words!

Chapter Text

The very moment I wake up I feel a weak headache and the dryness in my mouth.

Not that I drank too much, but I'm not that young anymore, and my body isn't as resilient as I'd like to believe. Obviously, I remember everything that happened in Jason's room last night – there's no way I wouldn't –, and what surprises me the most is that I feel no regrets about it at the moment.

But I just woke up, and the day's going to be long.

It's Friday, 9 a.m.

I wash my face, comb my hair and make sure I present a perfect smile before knocking on Jason's door.

Knock, knock.

Of course, no answer. His room's empty. How could it not? It's a school day and he must be gone. I don't seem to know where I am now, like a carefree, irresponsible woman who doesn't worry about her family or her job. I should've been up to prepare my son's breakfast, but instead, I slept in, and now I feel like a bad mom for letting my son have to eat breakfast alone.

Wait. What?

I feel remorse because my son had to prepare his own breakfast but I can't find any guilt in me for what I did to him last night? I definitely am a crazy, twisted mother.

I go downstairs and find a note on the fridge: 'Hey, Mom. I'm at school. I know you're going to worry about me. Please calm down. See you tonight.'

My Jason is so caring and responsible, even on a day like today, when he has to go through the stress of what's happened. I should be proud of the fact that he's so mature already, but the only thing I feel right now is fear.

I take my phone and text him. 'Jason, honey. Everything's fine?'

Just one minute later, Jason answers. 'yeah, fine mom. left you a note'

'I saw it. Did you have breakfast?' I type.

'yes mom. don't worry'

At least he ate something.

'Alright. I'll come to pick you up from school, okay?' I type.

'ok,' he writes back.

The long bath time helps me relax, and after I finish my breakfast, I put on some sporty clothes and I try to work on the financial stuff I have to do for the company like I do every morning. But I can't seem to focus, and my mind keeps flying back to Jason and his cock in my hand last night, showing no signs of shame for being hard for his mom.

I can't help but spend most of my morning masturbating, remembering last night's scene over and over again, picturing Jason's young body as I pleasured his cock with my hand. The kitchen witnesses my first orgasm, when I'm washing the dishes from last night, and when I reach the living room, I can't help myself and I touch myself again. But the real spiral of pleasure comes when I step into my son's room again, lying on his bed, smelling his scent from the sheets on his bed, remembering the taste of his warm cum on my tongue, fingering myself like a horny teenager while I fantasize about all the things I want to do to him.

Only after relieving myself from this tension, I can finally allow my mind to reflect on what's going to be my next move, but I don't think I can live without his desire for me now that I've experienced it. That would feel like a step back.

Like defeat.

However, I can't be acting like a perverted bitch all the fucking time around Jason. And seems clear to me that I need to set some rules for myself and Jason. But what should I do? How should I do it?

I don't fucking know yet.

I miss him already.

I need to play my next movements carefully. Of course, I know eventually I'll end up making love with him, getting rid of his untouched virginity, but I can't rush the process. Even though I want it badly, I need to be prepared when the time comes, and I want to enjoy this journey to my son's heart just as much as I want to take him to bed with me. And I certainly don't want to scare him away or make him think I'm just using him for sex, because that wouldn't be true either.

I'm sure one day, sooner rather than later, he'll let me steal his purity and I'll be the happiest mother in the world. He'll beg his beautiful mom to be his first and I'll do anything to satisfy his wishes.

In order to accomplish my deepest desire, I'm going to need to be confident in how to keep seducing him. I'll need this game to be gentle, and I'll have to build trust within the next few weeks. Weeks? No, it will take probably months, given that I want him to feel that our relationship is progressing naturally. I need him to feel that his mom isn't forcing him to do anything he doesn't want to.

My boy will deeply love me as his mom forever, I know that, but God knows that's not enough for me. The whole sexual thing seems like a minor problem for me compared to what I really crave from Jason, which is his soul and his heart. I want him to fall so deeply in love with me, like he never has with anyone else before, that when I become his first woman, he'll realize that the reason why he'll feel that way is because I'm his destiny.

I want him to become obsessed with me – his mother –, just the same way I have been obsessed with him for the last few months. Well, not only the last few months, but since he was in my belly, to be honest.

I want him to crave me, just like I crave him. I want him to realize he doesn't need any other woman than me. I want him to see that I can give him everything he needs, exactly like I've done since I gave birth to him, and exactly as I'll do for the rest of his life. But to do that, to achieve my ultimate wicked goal, I need to play my cards very well. And I believe the first step should be to take care of his feelings at the moment, considering I'll have to push boundaries and cross certain lines.

I need to take things farther and deeper than either of us would dare imagine.

My strategy will be very simple, but difficult to carry through. I'll need to keep playing my role as his mother, of course. I'd never give up being his mom and I'm not going to be pretending to be something I'm not. A mother's love is sacred and it can never be faked, no matter what we do or say, and I believe that's the best approach to take. But at the same time, I'll need to show him a side of me that I've never revealed before, a side of my personality I've always kept hidden from him.

Until last night.

Step by step, I'll make sure he begins seeing me as his lover, as his partner, apart from his loving mother. I'll become his best friend, his first real girlfriend, and the woman of his life; the one and only person in the world he needs. I need to be careful and patient with him because the road won't be easy. I'm gonna have to face many challenges, and I need to make sure I can win the fight.

The first fight is already taking place, right inside my brain. There's no need to explain much: the whole situation is so fucked up, so wrong and twisted, and I don't even know where I'm going with this. But on the other hand, sometimes it feels like I'm meant to be with Jason, as if I created him to be by my side. And I really don't care if it's just the lust speaking, the maternal instinct, or both. The only thing I know for sure is that I feel so alive right now since I divorced my husband and started seeing my son as a sexual being. It's like my blood has started pumping through my veins again for the first time in fifteen years, and I know it's because of him. I know that's because of how I feel about him.

I'm sure anyone else would call me sick, twisted, and crazy for what I'm thinking about doing with my son, but after all this time all I feel is that I need to accept this, embrace it, and make it part of my life. I can't keep living like this, chained, feeling like some kind of monster, afraid to express myself. I want to be free, to love freely, without the fear of being judged for who I truly am.

And this is who I am: Samantha Matthews. An independent and determined forty-three-year-old single woman, mother of an amazing boy called Jason, with a big heart and a beautiful soul.

A woman who loves her son more than anything else in this world.

Literally.

I've done many things in my life, I've been through many trials and tribulations, and I've faced many challenges. But none of these was as scary and forbidden as the one I'm about to face right now. This is the biggest challenge I've ever had to face, but I know I can win it. And if I don't, I'll die trying.

Although there's another big challenge in front of me, and I'm especially referring to that girl he speaks about almost every day.

Amanda.

She probably doesn't deserve so much hatred from me, but I can't avoid having this instinctive feeling of distrust when I think about her. I've seen the way Jason looks at her, and I don't like it one bit. Even though I really don't want to be the jealous mother, I just can't stop myself from feeling this way, because I'm afraid I could lose Jason to that stupid teenage kid. And that's exactly what scares me the most. I'm not afraid to be alone; I am afraid to lose my beloved son.

I'd say she's one of the most dangerous threats to my plans, and that's why I can't let her get between Jason and me. I need to be smart on this, and I have to prepare myself for the worst-case scenario, considering Amanda is Jason's closest friend, and if I'm too rough on her, I know there is a noteworthy possibility he could turn against me, making her end up as his first choice.

And I can't let that happen.

My previous moves seem to not have worked out well enough to make Jason realize he's supposed to be mine, and that he shouldn't be with any woman or girl other than me. Seems like my overbearing attitude is sometimes too strong for him to cope with, and it awakens a rebellious side of him, which can be suppressed by a strong hand. But that wouldn't be enough, to be honest. I don't want my son to do just as I say; I want him to be convinced that I'm right, and that he should submit to my loving will and my maternal authority.

I don't want him to do it out of fear.

I want him to do it out of love.

I cannot forget he's still a teenager, and he's always going to need to feel free to make his own decisions. That's the reason why I'll need to be exactly as controlling and possessive over him as I've been until now, but I'll need to hide it much better from now on, so I make him believe it's his choice to do as I please.

If they want to date and do teen stuff together, then fine, I'll let them do it. But it will be under my own terms, where I'm the only one with the power and control to decide what happens between them.

My son's first times shouldn't be with some stupid, scrawny, inexperienced girl like her. My Jason is too special, too handsome, and perfect for any ordinary girl to look after him the way I do. I have no doubt he's destined to be the man of a gorgeous, sophisticated, mature woman. And that's going to be me: his mother. I'll need to convince him slowly, without being obvious, that I'm the perfect woman for him, and that Amanda is just a temporary distraction for his adolescent needs.

It seems cold-hearted and cruel to say that, but I strongly believe this is the best for both of us. I'm sure it's going to be difficult to watch Amanda getting closer to my son, but I need to find a way to control my feelings and be supportive of him, without letting anyone know how I actually feel about that girl. I'll make sure I give my son small hints that Amanda's not a good match for him, that she's not a good girl to trust, and that I'm a much better companion to choose for his first steps.

Yes, I know I'm just a perverted bitch, but that doesn't matter to me anymore. I'm past the point of denying what I feel for him, and I've already made my decision. I'm not going to let him go. I'm not going to let that little whore take him away from me.

I want Jason, and I'll do anything to make him mine.

With that determination, I dress in a cute pair of jeans and a tight red sweater, with my hair tied neatly. I look at myself in the mirror and smile, feeling good about how my plan is starting to take form in my mind.

I grab my car keys and cell phone, and I drive to Jason's school.

I wait for him nervously near the big building, outside the car, with my legs crossed, my hands on my lap, and my purse hanging on my shoulder.

The bell rings and some older teenagers start coming out, giggling and loudly talking to each other. As usual, my boy takes his time to walk out of the building, chatting happily with his friends Alex, Sarah and more kids I don't know. Amanda is among them too, speaking with him and pointing at something written on a sheet of paper.

I grin, and I wave to Jason. His blue eyes meet mine for a second, my heart skips a beat and my stomach flutters at the sight of his young, attractive body. He shakes his hand back at me, but he doesn't seem as pleased as I expected with the fact that his mother is waiting for him. Then his eyes move quickly to his friends and he smiles at them, talking about something that made them all laugh.

Amanda sees me too, but she doesn't wave or smile at me either, which makes me even more pleased with my presence here. His friend Alex, on the other hand, is already staring at me, and he doesn't even try to hide his gaze on my body from the distance. His stare lingers for a couple of seconds, and then he makes a gesture with his arm that I take as a hello.

I nod in response and smile at him, even if I'm pissed at him for being mean to my son just a couple of days ago. I need to keep a polite low-profile attitude when I'm dealing with Jason's friends if I want them to think I'm the cool mother that Jason deserves to have.

My son says something to his friends, and they part ways. He's dressed in his usual school clothes, a T-shirt and long pants with his backpack hanging low, as I stand there, watching him approach me.

He walks toward me with quick steps. I open my arms wide to welcome him, and he hugs me tightly.

"Hi, honey," I kiss his temple, and I know he must be feeling a little embarrassed hugging his mom in front of so many people his age.

"Hey, Mom."

"Are you hungry? Let's go eat somewhere and talk, shall we?" I suggest, rubbing his arm.

Jason doesn't respond, but I can tell he's relieved that the state of our relationship seems normal after yesterday.

I drive my son to a nearby restaurant. It's a small diner, nothing fancy, but the food looks fine. Probably not the best place to have this kind of conversation, I think, while I pick our table and we sit in front of each other. I order us both sandwiches and fries, and Jason asks for a cola.

I wonder if there's any chance that someone here could be thinking we're a couple, instead of mother and son, but the mere thought seems so absurd that it lasts less than a second in my mind. I'll be turning forty-four in just three months, and Jason clearly looks like a fourteen-year-old. His hair is messy and disheveled after a long day of classes, and his gray-blue eyes look exhausted and worn by the sleepless night.

And we look so much alike too.

I can tell Jason's feeling a little awkward right now, but he does his best to be cool and relaxed around me. He must be just as tense as I am, but I'm much better at overcoming my real emotions than he is.

"How was school?" I ask. I smile, cutting a bite of my sandwich.

Jason shrugs and bites into his own sandwich.

"It was good," he responds, chewing quickly.

"Did you speak with Alex? You told me you'd deal with it."

"Yeah, he said he's sorry. Turns out Sarah spoke to him and she told him not to be an ass anymore. It's all fine, Mom."

I take another bite. "Okay." I decide not to press the issue, since there are more important things to talk about right now.

"Well, Jason, actually... You must know I'd like to talk about last night," I tell him, not beating about the bush.

Jason blushes and lowers his gaze, playing with his napkin. I reach across the table, and I wrap his young hand between my fingers.

"Honey, I don't wanna make the same mistakes I made last time, when it took me so long to address my actions and I ended up hurting you," I say, staring at his face, looking for some kind of response. "You understand, right? I mean..." I let my voice trail off, letting a pause grow, and my grip on his hand gets tighter. "...I want us to be able to trust each other again. And we need to talk about this. We need to be clear and mature, right son? You want to talk about it too, don't you?"

He nods hesitantly, but he still doesn't look me in the eye.

"That's my boy," I smirk. "Then tell me, baby. What's on your mind? How do you feel today?"

Jason shrugs slightly, looking away from me, towards the window. "I dunno. I'm okay, I guess. I'm just worried... Like last time. Worried our relationship becomes..."

"Complicated, yeah." I interrupt him "You don't have to worry about that, baby."

I give him a tender look, but my boy seems busy in his thoughts, still gazing outside through the glass windows of the diner.

Leaning forward, I take Jason's chin in my palm, making him turn to me. "Look at me honey," I command. "This conversation will only make us closer," I assure, meaning every word in that sentence.

His eyebrows frown, and I study his expression carefully. His gorgeous eyes look anxious and troubled as I stroke his cheek, touching his skin ever so lightly, running my fingertips along his soft jaw.

I smile softly, trying to calm him down.

"I want us to be honest with each other, baby. Let's be clear. What do we do about this... Situation?" I ask my boy.

Jason gulps loudly, his throat working. He drinks from his water glass and looks at my cleavage for the first time today.

"I... I don't know, mom. I mean... I don't see how we could-" he stops himself mid-sentence. "I thought you'd know what to do," he concludes, his voice trembling slightly.

Oh, God. This poor boy. Always asking for my help. His begging me to decide for him is the sweetest thing I've heard today.

"I just couldn't focus at school today," he continues, "I was, you know... Thinking about everything that happened yesterday, and I kept thinking about you and... And Mario and..."

I sigh, wishing I could just take him home and throw him on the bed right now, but I remind myself I have to take things slow.

"Let's be honest, baby. How would you like it to be?" I don't want to be the one saying it, so I better get him to spit it out first.

"What do you mean?" he asks, looking at me with those beautiful eyes of his.

I sigh deeply, leaning back in my chair and stretching my legs under the table. He needs a little boost.

"Sweetheart, I know this is all weird to you, and I know this was your first... Experience. So, it's normal to be confused. But you should understand..." How should I explain this? "You should understand that I'm your mom, and I'm willing to take care of you. Even if that means... Well, you know what that means, sweetie." I touch his hand again, rubbing it slowly. "I just want you to be happy, Jason."

"I... I know that, Mom," he looks at me with a pained expression.

"And I know I shouldn't be telling you this, but… You saw me, baby. I really liked doing that with you," I whisper, and Jason gulps loudly. "I mean, we can agree it's considered wrong, but I truly enjoyed seeing you… You know," I grin at him, "like that. I'm not ashamed of what we did," I say 'we' because I want Jason to see himself as a part of this too. I need him to think of us as a team in this new side of our relationship. "Not this time. And of course, I just don't want us to pretend it didn't happen, or to lie to ourselves and say it's never gonna happen again."

My boy nods lightly, but I can tell he doesn't really understand what I'm trying to tell him, and I continue stroking his hand tenderly.

"This is treating you like an adult, Jason. Just as you requested. We speak openly with each other, we're honest, and we make the decisions together," I explain.

His hands are now clammy, and his pupils are dilated.

"I don't know what to say, Mom" he utters. "I... I guess I'm a little scared about this," he confesses. "But... But I understand what you're telling me, I think."

I move closer to him and stare into his blue eyes. "I'm not forcing you to do anything, Jason. I'm not asking for anything else besides making sure you're safe and... Pleasured. Like... Healthy, right?" I smile softly, giving him a playful look, as I run my fingers through his palm's skin.

"Mom..." Jason says uncertainly "But... We're mother and son. I think... I guess… It'd be wrong, Mom, wouldn't it?"

I chuckle in silence, trying to look as relaxed as I can be. "Honey, I'm your mother and you're my son. You're right about that. I'm always gonna be your mother, no matter what happens." I keep playing with his fingers, "I know this might sound a little strange to you, baby." I say, almost whispering. "But... I don't think I feel guilty about what happened. At least, not right now. The way I see it..."

How can I explain the intense emotions I am experiencing without scaring my son even more than he already is?

I take my son's right hand in my own again, lacing our fingers together. "The way I see it, this would be just another way of taking care of you... Of loving you, darling." I kiss the side of his hand, and then I caress his slender wrist, moving upwards, tracing his forearm with my fingernails until reaching the underside of his bicep, kneading the flesh.

My son blushes, looking at me. "But, again… We're mother and son. That's just... Weird. I'm fourteen. You said it yourself: you could go to jail," he whispers in his lowest voice, afraid that someone could listen to this wicked conversation, with his frown deepening.

Curiously, it has to be him, my minor son, the one reminding me he's fourteen and I could be going to prison for what I did last night.

"You're right. It's all weird, right? But the fact that I love you so much is what makes it right, honey. That's why we'll make sure no one ever knows." I reply, squeezing his arm tightly. I move closer to him and lean across the table. "I won't risk losing you forever, baby."

My son seems to be frozen in place, staring at me with wide eyes, but my motherly instincts can sense deep inside he's not too opposed to the idea.

"Mom, I... I don't know. I don't know what to do."

I know this is hard for him to say. I know this is difficult for him to admit, but it's important for Jason to understand this is something that has to become natural and normal in our new relationship, and he needs to let himself go and relax in my arms.

I stand up for a moment and sit beside him. I grab the back of his neck and pull him in for a motherly kiss on his forehead, pressing my lips firmly against his frown face. With my hand holding his head, I make him stay there for a few seconds, but then I pull away, while I caress his forearm with my fingernails and I look at him directly in the eye, in the most intimidating and suggestive manner possible.

"What do you say?" I whisper, moving my hand to Jason's chest, massaging the smooth surface of his T-shirt gently.

I stroke the front of his shirt with my fingers, running them all over his body. My nipple grows rock hard from the sensations I get from the shape of his manly pecs, and I can feel my pussy moistening underneath my panties.

He gives a couple of glances at my breasts and smiles shyly, like a lost little kid in need of guidance, when the bulge forming in his pants twitches.

"To be honest, I think we... I kinda feel like we could keep doing stuff like that..." Jason confesses, lowering his eyes. "From time to time, I guess. Like… I don't know what else to say, Mom."

My mischievous grin shows how pleased I am with my efforts to persuade him becoming fruitful. I bite my lips, looking at the young teen, feeling myself melting with lust, and I squeeze his hand in mine, as I look into his eyes he took from me, kissing the surface of his knuckles.

"So you're on board?" I ask him.

He nods slightly. "Yes, Mom. If you're okay with it..."

I laugh, considering after all this conversation he still has to ask me if I'm fine with all this. "Oh, Jason, honey... God knows I am."

With my son sitting next to me in the passenger seat, my eyes meet his when he keeps stealing glances at my body. We're heading home, but Jason can't stop staring at my cleavage, where he can see the upper part of my voluptuous breasts pushing against the material of my tight red sweater.

"Well, baby. I think we should set some ground rules. Like a code of conduct or something like that," I suggest my son calmly, keeping my eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I think we both agree we don't want anyone to find out about our relationship."

I glance at him quickly, but he just nods.

"Okay, then. First rule is very obvious and simple," I announce, pausing briefly. "You must never tell any of this to anyone. Not even your friends and especially not your teachers. No one can know. Not to mention your father."

"Mom, he'd have to call me for that. I haven't talked with him for... Two weeks? I don't think he cares about me too much anyway," he says.

"That's not true, baby. You know your father loves you, but ever since he started his affair with that tramp..." I give him a sympathetic look and put my hand on his leg. "Anyway. Point is, no one can know about us, okay? I want to be sure we can trust each other with this. I need you to promise you'll respect rule number one."

"I promise."

I know my boy isn't the type of person who breaks promises.

"Secondly, no public stuff, or anything like that, alright?" He quickly nods. "It's important because even if people don't know you're my son, they'll know you're a minor... So," I watch him swallow anxiously before I add "that's rule number two."

Jason keeps quiet for a moment, but he speaks in the end. "Ok..."

"Alright. Rule three. If you feel like something's not making you comfortable, you say it, young man. Understood?" I explain, even if I'm not willing to give up anything I want to do with my son. "The same goes for me."

"Of course, Mom. I'll… I'll do that," he answers with a nervous tone.

"I'm glad we agree on that." I pause for a second, thinking about the next steps. "The fourth rule is that you'll have to spend time with me. If you want me to stop seeing Mario, you'll have to hang out with me during the week, okay? It's for your own good," I say, knowing this rule would also give me an excuse to make him stay at home when I need to. "Do you think you can do that?"

"Mom, I've always spent a lot of time with you," he says with a hint of disappointment in his voice. "But I'll do anything you want."

I smile. "Good."

Next one's going to be the hardest to explain.

"And the last rule is..." I begin again. "I'm your mom, and I'll be only your mom and nothing else, okay? I want you to keep behaving around me and treat me as your mom, as you always have."

His head turns towards me in a hurry, and he frowns, but then he looks at my face and nods. "Yeah, sure, Mom. I couldn't treat you any other way."

"That also means… Third and fourth bases are not allowed."

Jason turns to me again, surprised that I verbalized such a sentence, and his face turns completely red. "Mom, I never thought-"

"I know you didn't think about it, baby. But I mean it, Jason," I say sternly, trying to make it clear as possible.

This is a very important part of my strategy. I don't want Jason to be too excited about the sexual side of our new relationship. What am I saying to myself? I'm not explaining myself right. I'm lying, of course, I want my boy to be crazy about all the stuff we can do together. But I want to make sure he sees our connection as a bond, a partnership, and much more than a mere sexual thing.

If he wants to make love to me, he surely will, but he'll have to ask me himself, and with time I'll be building this trust and desire within him. I mean, there's no doubt I'll convince him to have sex with me, but I want him to want it deeply.

I want him to beg for it.

But for now, I think it'd be best if he thought of losing his virginity to his mom as something unreachable, like a dream he'll never get to realize, and not something that's just a matter of time. I'm trying to make him see things in an earthly way so that he realizes we won't be doing anything too advanced or intense at first. I want him to think that, deep inside, he knows that this can only be a fantasy, and I'll let him believe this until he's ready to admit he needs his mother more than anyone else.

I don't want to rush it, but I think we both need to be on the same page before we take the next step.

"Mom, I'd never ask you to... I know you mean it, and I'll never cross that line. Of course, I understand," Jason responds with a weird expression, but as a mother, I can see his face is full of disappointment despite his trying to keep it a secret.

"I knew you would," I smile at him and I put my hand on his thigh one more time. "And there's one more thing I'd like to address, but this is not a rule."

My boy turns to me once again. "What is it?"

"It's about your friend."

My son's eyebrow rises in curiosity. "Alex?"

I shake my head. "No, baby. Your other friend. Amanda."

He frowns. "Oh, I see... What about her?"

"Amanda is your friend, and she's been a good one for you," I tell him, with no intention to let my real opinion show in my face or voice. "You know I have a strong opinion about her, but I'm willing to respect you and your choice of friends, as I always have. However," I continue, pausing my untrue speech lightly for a second. "I know you like her, and even if you don't realize it, she clearly likes you too. I'm not blind, Jason, I see you're at the age of... Well, teenage romance, right?"

I glance at my son and I notice he's staring at the road. He seems uneasy, but he's nodding quietly.

"I guess that's true," his voice seems shy.

"So, I'll let you do what you think is right for you, Jason," I tell him, trying to make him realize there's no point in arguing about this. "If you guys finally get to… Go out together or something, I won't say a single thing against it," I say untruthfully. "But I want you to be extremely careful around her, honey. She's just a... Well, she's a teenage girl, and I can't guarantee her good intentions with you. You must understand that, Jason."

He sighs. "Yeah, Mom. I... I see your point, but Amanda isn't like that," he says, turning his face to me. "You can trust me on this: she's not the kind of girl who'd hide something from me."

She's not the kind of girl I am.

"Alright, Jason," I sigh. "If you say so. I just want you to be careful, honey. I don't want you to get hurt. And..." I look at him intensely, and I squeeze his thigh under my palm. "If you want to go out with her, or you want to spend time with her at all, I want you to ask for my permission first, okay? You're still my boy, and I want to know about what you do, and where you go. I need to make sure you're safe all the time. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Mom," he responds with a single nod, turning his gaze back to the road. " But even if she did like me I don't even know if she'll want to hang out with me anymore, Mom," he mumbles, lowering his gaze to the floor. "And especially not at home, not with..."

"With me? Why do you say that, honey?"

Jason looks at the dashboard with a slight blush on his cheeks. "Cause, well, the other day... You know what happened, Mom. I think she believes you don't really like her," he says, keeping his eyes on me.

The little bitch has been poisoning my son's mind, I guess.

"And she's right. But you have to admit I've been nice to her, sweetie. I didn't throw her out of the house that day, did I?"

"I know that, Mom," he responds, now rolling his eyes in a slightly annoyed manner. "But I think she's afraid of you, or something."

She should.

"If that's the case, it's her problem. You shouldn't care about it, baby," I say, running my hand up his inner thigh and massaging his fit flesh, built by soccer practices. "But if you wanna meet her outside our house, the conditions are the same. You'll have to ask me first."

Jason nods quietly, and I can tell he's not really comfortable with my requirement. But he doesn't argue and we remain in silence for a moment.

"Why do you make such a long face?" I ask him then.

"I dunno," he shrugs, staring at the road ahead. I stop the car at the traffic light and I stare at my son. "I'm sorry, Mom. If I look awkward or... This is all too sudden and fast and... I know you're just... I mean, I know you love me and you wouldn't hurt me. I know you're not a... A bad person."

I can't believe how truly innocent he is, and my heart breaks when I think about how he doesn't see me as the perverted mother I think I am. I place my hand on his nape and squeeze it gently, as a signal he shouldn't worry about anything.

"I know, baby." I turn to him and smile. "And you're right. I know it's a lot to take in. I can't believe this is happening either, but... I truly think it's the best for you."

My hand moves to his cheek and I stroke it tenderly, and my panties feel the heat when I lean forward to give him a motherly kiss on his lips, tenderly, grazing the smooth surface of his skin with my own, letting the peck rest there for a few seconds.

But the loud sound of the horn behind us makes us both jump in our seats, and he suddenly pulls away.

"It turned green, Mom!" He gasps, laughing nervously.

I laugh and shake my head. The driver honks loudly again, glaring angrily at us through the mirror. I roll my eyes and press the throttle pedal, heading towards our house.

I park the car in the garage at home, and Jason grabs his backpack before heading inside the house. The moment he opens the door connecting the garage to the hall, he tries to rush up the stairs and to his bedroom, but I'm faster and I grab him by the arm.

"Wait, wait!" I command, pulling him back to me. "Why are you in such a hurry? I thought we'd spend some time together today, baby." I caress his arm, staring into his blue eyes. "We can watch a movie or something... Cuddle a bit?"

"But I need to get my homework done, Mom," he says, trying to pull away.

"It's Friday, Jason. You can rest today and..."

"Mom, you know I usually do my homework on Fridays so I can relax during the weekend," he says, raising an eyebrow, looking at me with a mix of concern and irritation on his face.

I sigh deeply, realizing the little mistake I could be making right now. Obviously, I know my son does his homework on Friday afternoon, so he can have the whole weekend free for himself. At times, seems like I need to remember I'm his mother and I should behave like one, which makes my tone become serious after my previous offer. "Okay, go do your homework, but promise you'll finish them all so we can do something fun together later on."

He frowns and lowers his gaze, seeming a little uneasy about the idea. "Alright, Mom," he gives me a quick peck on my cheek.

"Hey, hey, hey. On my lips" I say, pointing over my chin, and he looks at me nervously for the umpteenth time. "And don't you dare give me that look."

"Yeah, right, Mom," he chuckles shortly, rolling his eyes, and he leans forward, planting a brief kiss on my mouth.

I smile, and I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer, placing my lips on his him slowly, giving him several long pecks while I caress his neck and run my fingers through his short hair.

My son doesn't look too uncomfortable now, but I have to admit the situation is awkward now even for a perverted, crazy mother like me. Does our agreement allow me to kiss him like this? Can I open my mouth and lick his tongue? Can I grab his ass and push our bodies together?

Does this mean I can jerk him off and make him cum whenever he needs it but I can't kiss him like a woman kisses her man?

Actually, we didn't really discuss what this new situation includes. Is this arrangement of us supposed to be a purely sexual relationship or are we going to do other things like normal lovers? I don't want him to feel like he can't hug me or kiss me in a way he feels more comfortable if he wants to. We don't have to be like a married couple or anything like that, because we're not. We're still mother and son, but I just want us to be more affectionate than before.

Even if that doesn't seem possible sometimes.

My internal dialog is quickly interrupted by the hardening bulge pressing against my leg, and my pussy gets instantly wet, feeling the warmth growing inside my belly, at the same time my hands slide below his shirt, rubbing the sides of his body.

I push my giant breasts tightly against his chest and neck, while moaning lightly in every long kiss we share, looking at him directly in the eye. He stares back at me, but his eyes are glazed and unfocused, and he keeps glancing down at my boobs.

My brain takes control, and I push Jason away slightly. "I think you need to go do your homework, sweetie," I whisper, staring at him, giving him a wicked grin.

Jason clears his throat and looks at my boobs one more time, and he makes a weird pose to hide his erection, giving me a fake smile. "I guess... Yeah."

"I'll bring you something to eat later, okay? Go," I wave him away, and he goes upstairs with heavy steps, his backpack bouncing a little on his back.

I watch him for a second, and then I go to my little office and sit at my desk to work on my laptop, trying to make up for the lost time this morning. I manage to organize the financial reports and answer a couple of emails, and when I look at the clock, I realize almost two hours have passed by.

I stretch my arms and my back, feeling as if I was older than I really am, and I decide it's time for Jason's snack. I put on a tight yellow T-shirt I find in my closet and a pair of shorts, and I go downstairs to prepare something for him.

A simple sandwich and orange juice seem enough for my growing boy, who's probably still working on his homework upstairs. I take a large plate and put the sandwich and the juice on it, and then I head up the stairs.

When I approach his door, I hear the more-than-usual noises coming from inside his room, the same sounds that just two months ago would make me walk away and let him be. Our doors and walls are thin, and the rest of the house is in deep silence, so I can easily hear everything he's doing. I guess he heard me too, walking to his bedroom door, but he must've thought I left already because the sounds from inside his room keep going on and on. The rushed breathing, the little gasps, the occasional sound of his chair rolling, and the intermittent scrubbing of his hand.

I feel a shiver going down my spine, and my body reacts to the images I have in my mind. My son, jerking off to the thought of his mom's body, playing with his young cock in his room, and maybe looking at his phone gallery at the same time, searching for some pictures where my cleavage shows up.

I approach my ear to the door and press it against the wooden surface, and now I can hear him panting lightly, the sound of the chair rocking slightly, and the soft, quick, and slippery movements of his hand stroking his dick.

My pussy trembles so hard I'm sure I'm about to get wet just from the sounds alone. My heart rate accelerates and my breathing becomes quicker, and I press my free hand against the door, caressing the plain lumber as if my son could feel my touch.

Decisions, decisions, and more decisions.

I know I should walk back downstairs and leave my son alone to take care of his needs, but the soles of my feet seem to stick to the ground. I could knock and make my presence known too, to give him time to cover himself and pretend nothing was going on.

I lean my shoulder against the wall, closing my eyes, and I can almost picture his face, flushed red and sweaty, and his blue eyes staring at me. Fuck, I can even imagine the smell of his arousal, the musky, masculine, teenage scent of his manhood filling my lungs with every breath I take.

I can't help but leave the plate carefully on the hallway furniture and reach between my legs and sense my own sex through my panties, rubbing my hand over my moist labia. My fingers move around my swollen clit, my pussy gets instantly soaked, and I moan softly in pleasure.

The heat becomes unbearable, and my fingers move deeper into the slit, feeling the wetness dripping from my vagina. I lean my other hand on the wall, supporting my body as I keep rubbing my cunt through my panties, making it wetter and wetter until I can feel the material clinging to my pussy lips.

Decisions, decisions.

More and more decisions.

It's all I've done since I divorced my husband. Make decisions.

I wish this was much simpler, but I have to admit this is not an easy situation to deal with. Am I allowed to enter his room now, after the conversation we had earlier this afternoon?

But of course, I am. I'm his mother and I can walk into his bedroom any time I want to. It doesn't matter if he's doing homework, playing a video game, or jerking off. Jason is my son, and he'll accept whatever his loving mother decides to do. I'll open this door and I'll see him with his pants down and his cock in his hand, and he'll be surprised to see me there.

Before bursting in, I fix my clothes quickly and take the plate and the glass so I can pretend I just walked in on him, without any clue about his current activities.

The door handle is cold in my hand, and I turn it without hesitation.

What I find is what I expected, partially at least.

My son's sitting at his desk, facing the computer screen when he abruptly covers his naked erection with his T-shirt and both hands, turning his body suddenly to me. "Mom!" He blurts out. "You should've knocked!" He says, lowering his gaze, severely ashamed.

His English textbook is on the desk in front of him, and there are several papers and books surrounding him.

"Oh, honey..." I try to make myself sound as apologetic as I can. "I didn't know you were... Busy." I say, approaching him with the food and the drink in my hands.

When I look at his computer screen, curious about what he's been watching or looking at while he played with himself down there, what I find on it isn't something I was expecting. I thought that, after our little affair last night and today's conversation, I could expect him to be looking at pictures of my body on his phone, or maybe even the photos I upload to my Facebook or Instagram. Or just picturing in his mind the crazy scene we lived in this same bedroom less than twenty-four hours ago.

But it's not me who I see on the screen, and I'm surprised when I see what Jason is staring at right now, covering the screen with his left hand.

"Jason, what the...?"

That's not me.

That doesn't even look like me.

Chapter 8: Boys Have Needs

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

I leave the plate with the sandwich and the orange juice on his desk, and I approach the computer to have a closer look at what's happening on my son's computer.

The woman on the screen is bouncing on a bed, completely naked, her full, enhanced breasts moving up and down to the rhythm of her moves. Her nipples aren't big, with a slightly darker tone than her tanned skin, and she must be around thirty-five. Her long black hair is messy and falls down her back, moving together with her bouncing body.

The man below her has to be in his mid-twenties, probably a little younger. He's completely naked too, his hands are on her waist and he's thrusting his hips up, his dick plunging deep inside her pussy, as she bounces on top of him.

I was expecting to find myself on Jason's computer screen, but instead, I see he's watching some crappy, cheap porn video, where a vulgar, ugly woman is riding a young, virile man who's probably a complete stranger to her. This doesn't even look like real sex: the woman looks like a slut, a whore who'd let anyone fuck her for a few bucks, and the guy looks like he doesn't give a shit about her.

Why would he even choose this video to jack off to? Why is he watching something so crude? Why would he do that when he could be watching me?

"Are you watching porn, Jason?" I let my voice fade, still staring at the screen.

"Don't look!" Jason says, and he grabs the gaming mouse and tries to close the website, but it's too late for him to do that since I place my hand on his forearm and I push it aside, making him drop it back on the desk.

"I thought you were doing homework, son, but... Is this what you do when I'm not around?" I ask him, moving my eyes to his face, previously fixed on the screen but now scarily looking at me.

My son remains silent, not daring to speak yet, his cheeks are all red and his mouth hangs open slightly.

"Answer me, baby."

"No, Mom! I was just... I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"Who's that?" I ask, pointing at the woman on the screen.

Jason looks at me, confused. "Mom, what do you mean who's that? That's just... Just a porn actress."

I turn my gaze to the screen, and then I look at him. "Just a porn actress?! Is that the right way to speak about a woman?" I raise my voice, pretending to be mad at him because of his disrespect toward a whore I don't care about.

I'm not ashamed to admit I've watched a lot of porn in my life. I guess every woman has watched porn at some point in her life, even though I've heard from many of them that they usually feel disgusted by it and I can see why. The porn industry is mostly made for men's pleasure, and even though it can be funny and even appealing at times, it's still mostly based on sexual violence and objectification, and that can be really disturbing.

It's true that I don't watch porn like I used to anymore, but I watched a lot of it back in my days. I can't judge Jason for watching this kind of material, but I have to make it clear this isn't something that should be seen as normal in a boy his age, who can easily be influenced by it.

It'd be stupid to deny I'm much more pissed about that it's this disgusting whore the one on my son's computer screen rather than the fact that he was watching porn. I'm furious to see this filthy creature on my son's computer, with her big, fake tits, her huge ass and her stretched, used pussy. I'd slap his face right now if that didn't mean all of my plans could fall apart in a moment.

And of course, there's no way I didn't know he watched porn before, but I just found the perfect excuse to start a whole new discussion about his sexual behavior.

And I'm not letting this opportunity go to waste.

"But she's a... She's a porn actress, Mom!" Jason argues, looking at me with wide eyes.

"And you can't talk about her like that, Jason!" I say sternly, trying to look more convincing. "You have to show respect for women."

"But Mom..."

The sigh that escapes my lips is meant to sound annoyed, but deep inside I'm actually enjoying the way Jason's reacting to my scolding. "Do you really watch porn, sweetie? How much?" I ask, and Jason just keeps quiet. "How many times a week do you do it? Do you do it when you're alone in your room?" I keep pressing, and my son just lowers his eyes, blushing even harder.

I know it's not that easy to answer me when I look mad.

"Sometimes," he mumbles, almost inaudibly, while he finishes covering his erection with his pants.

Now it's time for the tolerant mother role.

I move closer to him and I caress his head with my fingers. "Why don't you use your imagination, sweetie? Use your brain."

"What's the big deal, Mom? All of my friends watch… Porn," he defends himself, still looking at me nervously.

"All of your friends watch porn too? Do they have any idea of the unhealthy effects this can have on people your age? It teaches bad habits to teenagers and it could destroy your sexual conduct in relationships with girls. It's sexist and degrading, and it can damage your brain in some ways, especially when it comes to treating women."

And I don't want him to become a porn addict. Just a sex addict.

"I guess... Guess you're right," Jason lowers his gaze and his voice. "I just..." He takes a deep breath and then he continues, "I guess I can't control myself sometimes. I'm sorry, Mom."

"I don't have a problem with you masturbating." Actually, I do, because I should be the one doing it for him. "I just don't think I'd be thrilled to know you keep watching porn from now on. You're just too young to understand its effects, Jason. If you feel like doing it, you can use your imagination, okay? Don't watch that crap anymore."

"But Mom, I'm telling you..."

"No buts, Jason. Understood? No more porn. I can't allow you to be influenced by something like that," I tell him shaking his head lightly.

My demand is met with a long silence, and I stare at him as he keeps his eyes lowered, staring at his keyboard. "Alright, Mom," he mumbles, sighing.

"Thank you." I look at him for a moment, and then I turn to the screen and look at the woman again.

The frame's frozen, but I don't know when he pressed pause, and she's just sitting on the man's cock, her back arched and her legs spread open. Her breasts are large, but I think they look bad on her, like most plastic implants.

"Do you really like her?" I ask him, staring at him straight in the eye and pointing at her body. "Do you watch this because you like her?"

Jason just shakes his head, looking at the screen and away from me. "No, Mom. I'm not attracted to her. I just..."

I keep my gaze fixated on him, raising my eyebrow, and he pauses for a moment, his eyes wandering between me and the computer screen.

"You must be. Why else would you watch her?"

He shrugs. "I mean... I like her body, and I guess she's pretty, but..."

I interrupt him. "Her body is gross, Jason. She looks like a... You see, she has those huge boobs, but they're fake, you know that, right?" He nods slightly. "I'm not saying you can't appreciate a woman's body, but those things aren't real, honey."

"I know, Mom."

I'm sure his big breast fetish is not because of bodies like this woman's, but because of mine.

"And look at that face! She's just... Unsightly. Look how they put so much makeup on her face... This looks so unrealistic, baby. That's exactly why you need to stop watching this stuff," I add, and Jason looks down at the floor. "Is that what you're thinking about when you play with yourself? Is that what you like? An older woman, with fake tits, and fake makeup, and fake hair and fake everything?" I ask him, and Jason gives me a quick, embarrassed glance, shaking his head.

"No, Mom," he mumbles. "I'm not..." He swallows hard, and his Adam's apple bobs up and down. "Sometimes I use my imagination like you said. Sometimes I..."

"Sometimes you what?" I ask, giving him a sly smile.

He seems uneasy, his face turns redder, and he doubts before saying what comes next. "Sometimes I think about real people. Sometimes I think about you, Mom..." he says, staring at the floor, his voice sounding uneasy and shy.

My heart skips a beat, and my mouth runs dry. His confession is so sudden, so unexpected from a timid boy like Jason, that I'm not sure I heard him right. I feel the heat rushing to my cheeks, and I bite my lip, trying to think of a way to respond to such a declaration.

That's exactly what I wanted to hear!

"Me? What about me?" I ask, sitting at the edge of his desk and crossing my arms under my bosoms.

"I don't know, Mom... I mean, I... I guess I don't know how to describe it. I think about you a lot. When I do it, I mean," he says, keeping his eyes fixed on the desk. "Mom, I know what we talked about today, but this kind of… Topics still make me feel a little... Well, awkward."

He glances at me nervously, looking for approval from his mother.

Let's take it easy.

"I know, Jason. It's okay."

I smile softly at him, trying to make him feel more at ease, and then I look at the screen again. I move my hand to the mouse and I click the 'X' on the browser window. I leave the screen on the desktop, and I rest my hefty asscheeks on Jason's desk again, now facing him.

"How often do you do it? Touching yourself, I mean," I ask, crossing my legs.

He looks at me, embarrassed, and I can see he doesn't want to answer, but I need to know.

"Mom... I..." he mumbles. "I dunno. I mean, it depends on my mood, on my day. I... I can't tell."

"Try, baby. How often?"

He looks down for a moment, and then he speaks again. "Like every day, I think."

"Jason, I know you do it every day. You're fourteen! You think I'm so naïve I don't know you do it every day?" I say, looking at him with a stern face. "How many times?"

He sighs and he keeps his eyes on the floor. "I don't know... Like two or three times. Maybe more."

"Wow, Jason. This is serious." I run my fingers through my hair, sighing deeply, and then I turn my face to the ceiling, feeling a shiver running down my spine. There's no doubt three times a day is a more-than-normal number for a boy his age, but I need to keep playing my role as a concerned mom.

"Mom, it isn't weird. I mean… It's natural."

"Baby, of course, it is. Masturbating is a natural thing for a young man your age, but we're talking about your habits here, and how they'll affect your future life. If you keep this… Rhythm for too long, you'll end up becoming an addict. You won't be able to stop yourself and you won't be able to control your impulses. Right now you think everything's under your control, but then, one day, you'll realize it's become a serious problem you can no longer handle… Your sexual health is a very important matter, baby. It's important to me, but it should be even more important to you. And it's a matter that could affect the way you interact with other people. Especially girls."

"I know, Mom… You're right, as always. I just..."

He's still not getting it. I sigh and look at him.

I lean forward and I lift his face by his chin, forcing him to look at me. "But, Jason... Do you understand why I'm saying this? Why I'm telling you all of this? I can't risk you ending up with an addiction like this. I'm really worried about you, honey, and I think it's time that you stop watching porn at all."

"What?" He asks, surprised, his eyes widening. "Mom, no! I mean... I think you're right, but it's not that big of a deal."

Not that big of a deal? My son jerking of to porn videos every day is not a big deal?! He said he masturbates to the thought of me sometimes... Well, I guess it should be like that every single time he gets the chance to do it! I'm right here for him, I'm his mother! He's supposed to think of me when he plays with his cock!

"Not that big of a deal? Jason, you're not getting me here. This isn't me asking. I'm telling you. You're not going to watch porn anymore. Sweetheart, I understand that you're too young to see the consequences of what you're doing. But, women shouldn't be objects you lust after and use for your own pleasure. So you'll swear you'll do as I say from now on, okay? No more porn, and no more masturbating to it."

My son keeps quiet for a moment, and then he looks at me with a confused face. "But Mom, what am I supposed to do when I feel like... When I need to..."

Now it's time to be more specific about our new agreement.

I smile at him, and I run my fingers through his short hair. "Let me tell you something," I whisper, caressing his cheek softly. "When you said you... That you masturbate to the thought of me sometimes, I was very surprised, sweetie," I tell him, and his cheeks blush so hard they turn bright red. "I won't say it's made me upset or anything like that, but it did make me feel kind of honored and flattered, Jason. If you feel like touching yourself, you can... Well, you can think about me. Or you can think about us doing something together, if you want to. I don't mind."

He swallows hard and keeps his eyes fixed on mine. "Mom, are you serious?"

"Of course, honey," I respond, placing my hand on his nape and squeezing it lightly. "I mean, if you really need to, I'd be delighted to be the one in your mind when you..." I don't want him to feel ashamed of his desire, and I want him to realize that I'm not against his urges, so I decide to keep explaining what I mean. "...When you do it. In fact, you could even look at my pictures. You know, the ones I put on Instagram or on my Facebook account? I think you can find some pictures that show off my body a little there."

My baby boy stares at me in disbelief, and the heat grows in my core when I see the way his eyes roam over my cleavage and my lips. He looks at me for a few seconds, his face expressionless, and then he speaks again. "So... Let me get this straight: you want me to look at your pictures while I..."

"Exactly," I respond quickly, unable to avoid laughing softly at his question. "Why do you look so shocked after everything that's happened in the last two days, honey? I prefer you to look at my pictures than at those porn actresses, baby. Next time you feel the urge to masturbate, I want you to open my social media and look at my pictures. Can you do that?"

Jason just nods quietly. "Ok, Mom."

I stand up and approach him, caressing his cheek tenderly. "I'm just worried about you, honey. You know I love you, right?"

He nods again, staring at me with his blue eyes. "I love you too, Mom."

I take his chin between my thumb and index finger and lift his face, leaning forward, and I give him a motherly kiss on his lips, making them linger for a moment before I pull away.

This might be enough for today. Things may be going faster than I expected, but I think I need to restrain myself from going further now. It'd be a mistake to rush things and make Jason feel pressured or uncomfortable, and I can't risk losing everything I'm building for us with such an impatient decision.

"Now, why don't you finish your homework?" I say, running my fingers through his short hair once again. "I'll leave you alone now, but I'll come back to check on you later." My body moves by itself, I point at the food and the orange juice on the desk. "You should have a snack, you know?" And then I head towards the door.

"Mom?" Jason calls me, and I turn to him, my hand resting on the doorknob.

"What is it, sweetie?" I ask, opening the door slightly.

He looks at me, his expression showing a mix of embarrassment and confusion. "What if... What if I take some pictures of you now?"

Under my clothes, my heartbeat starts becoming faster, and my pussy clenches against my panties. I stare at my son in awe, and I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.

Now he's the one asking to take the initiative?

"You want to take pictures of me?" I ask him, raising my eyebrow.

"Yeah... I mean, if you don't mind," he's blushing as always. "Your photos on Instagram are... They're okay." Does that mean he's already seen them? "But I think it would be better to have some pictures on my phone... Like, more... Intimate," he says before noticing that's not exactly what he wanted to say, and his facial expression changes drastically. "Not that I want to have dirty pictures or anything!" He adds quickly, and he lowers his eyes. "I mean, I just want to... I like how you look at home, like in your T-shirt or... I just like how you look casual and comfortable when we're alone. So I thought if I have some pictures of you like that, it'd be... Well, it'd be more real when I... You know."

I'm trying to keep my composure, but inside my sick brain, I'm screaming like a crazy girl in heat.

It's true that my photos on social media are usually corporative. I'm not the kind of woman who uploads hundreds of selfies or pictures that show off my body too much. I like it to be subtle. Maybe the only exception to that are those photos I have on the beach, two years ago, when we were on vacation in Mexico.

Back in the city, due to job reasons and social circumstances, I used to wear many dresses and suits all the time, which make me look really elegant and classy, but seems like my son has already seen all my photos on Instagram and Facebook, and now he wants me to pose with my enormous breasts bulging in this yellow T-shirt and my thick, bare legs peeking from below my short pants.

I guess it can be more appealing to him to have me in his gallery the same way he sees me in daily life. Dressing and behaving like this, as a housewife, as a mom who takes care of him and worries about him every day.

The fact that I don't need to wear a bra under this T-shirt at home surely is also a plus for him, because I know it's one of his favorite things to look at when we're alone together. His gaze wanders to my cleavage all the time, and he's so adorable when he stares at my boobs. I know he loves to see them bounce and move when I walk, when I move around the house, when I do the dishes or when I'm cooking for him. Now that I know he jerks off to porn videos with fake tits and women pretending to be the older lady, I can see why my natural, huge ones can be so appealing to him.

I don't think he has the slightest idea how hot he looks when he stares at them with those wide eyes of his.

"Sure, why not?" I give him a naughty look, now approaching his desk, and finding my previous position sitting on it. I cross my legs again, and rest my palms on the edge of the wooden table, staring at him.

Jason looks at me paralyzed, sitting on his desk chair, his eyes running down my body from the top of my head to my toes. His jaw drops slightly and his cheeks turn redder. "Really? I mean, you don't mind?"

One minute ago, I was thinking about how I can't risk losing all of this just because I want to get my son to masturbate to me more often. I was about to let him rest after so many stressful conversations today, after all the shocking situations we've lived in such a short period of time. Now I'm here, being asked to pose for his phone, which can be considered another kind of step that will lead our new relationship to greater heights.

"I think we've done much worse than just taking some pics, Jason. This is nothing, baby. Go ahead. Take all the pics you want," I offer, and he keeps staring at me, speechless. "What are you waiting for?"

He blinks a couple of times and then he grabs his phone from his pocket, aiming it at me but not moving from the chair, awkwardly trying to look serious while he does it.

I remain exactly where I am, but my eyes wander around the room, pretending to look at something else, posing naturally, trying to look as sexy as I can. My boy takes several pictures, and after a minute or so he seems satisfied with the result.

"I think... This is okay," he says, lowering his phone to look at the pictures he took.

"Sure you don't want more pics?" I ask him, and he glances at me, surprised. "I mean, we're here and it's Friday, so maybe we can have a little bit of creative fun, since you seem to be such an artist," I chuckle. "We can take a couple more pics if you want," I suggest, feeling my pussy getting wetter as I speak.

He nods silently. "Okay," he says, looking at me as he retorts in the seat.

"Do I have to stay here? On this desk?" I ask him, looking at him from the corner of my eye.

Jason seems puzzled by my question, and he just shakes his head, still holding the phone in his hands. "No, Mom. I... You can move anywhere."

"I think it'll be better if you take some pictures of me sitting on your bed or something. It'll look more natural," I explain, giving him a small grin.

My son nods silently and then he points his phone at his bed, so I get up and walk towards it with decisiveness. I sit down on the edge, crossing my legs again, and I keep my eyes on him.

"So... Should I smile or something?" I ask him, giggling.

He remains silent for a moment, his eyes roaming over my body. "You don't need to do anything, Mom. You just have to sit there, and... You look good already, Mom. Really good," he says, and his cheeks are completely flushed.

"Thanks, baby. That's such a nice thing to say to your mother," I respond, smiling widely at the camera in front of me. "I know I don't look too bad for a forty-three-year-old," I say proudly. "But it's wonderful to hear that from my son's mouth."

He lowers his gaze and begins to take a couple of pictures, all of them pretty much from the same angle, while my expression changes into a more natural one, looking at something behind him. They all must look exactly the same since he doesn't move or asks me to change positions.

"You're not as discreet as you think, you know?" I tell him, winking at him, aware of his stare at my body.

My son swallows hard and he doesn't dare to look at me again. "I'm sorry, Mom," he whispers, lowering his phone.

"It's okay, sweetie. I like it when you look at me this way," I say, using my fingers to play with my hair. "Do you think that woman's fake boobs look better than these?" I point at my cleavage with the direction of my stare.

He glances at them for a moment. "No, Mom," he answers, quickly.

"Of course not. Mine are natural." I say, and I push my chest forward, letting my tits bulge even more under the tight fabric of my T-shirt, caressing them with my right hand. "And bigger, right?"

Jason's eyes go wide, and I know he wasn't expecting that kind of question. "I... I guess so, Mom."

"You guess so?" I ask him, chuckling.

"Th-they are! Way bigger. I think they're... They're just great, Mom," he blurts, now staring at them.

I laugh again, louder, and my voice comes out almost like a moan. "Well, you can take closer pictures of my bosoms if you like them so much."

Jason hesitates for a moment, and he seems embarrassed by my words, but I know he's just being shy. I'm sure he wants to do it, and I know he's dying to touch my tits, so I can't stop myself from teasing him.

He must be feeling a little remorseful for asking to take these pics in his room, with me sitting on his bed in front of him, posing with my enormous breasts bulging on my T-shirt. I look at him expectantly, but he doesn't move, and after a moment he just lowers his gaze and keeps looking at my boobs without doing anything.

I sigh and shake my head. "Baby, you need to say the things you want to do. Otherwise, how am I supposed to know?"

He looks at his mom's face and his cheeks look bright red. I'm getting used to that color on his face's skin. "You really don't mind?"

"You need to stop asking if I mind after I've already given you permission," I say, and my voice sounds warm and motherly.

Jason bites his lip and his eyes keep looking at my chest, while his hand trembles holding the phone. "Okay, let's do that."

My son walks towards me and sits right beside my body, just some inches away from it. He raises the phone camera and points it at my chest, aiming also at my face, and I know he wants to get both of my features in the photo. He takes a couple of them, and then he looks at me with a strange expression. That's the moment when I can exactly pinpoint what he's thinking right now.

His timid eyes aren't exactly fixated on my tits, but they dance from one to the other, and later to my neck for some reason. His lips are slightly parted and his breathing is slow and deep, his heart beating so crazy inside his chest that I'm even capable of seeing it under the thin fabric of his T-shirt.

I smile at him, and my right hand is now holding the collar of the T-shirt, pulling it down a little, exposing a little more of my cleavage, while the other hand grabs my boob as well as possible since its size is so huge that it's difficult to hold it properly, lifting the heavy flesh up and offering it to him, now outside of the cloth.

With my right bosom completely exposed, my boy's eyes go wider, looking not really sure about what to do now. His eyes move from my face to my chest, and then to the phone, and he doesn't say a single word when I see his thumb shyly touching the screen, pressing it lightly to capture the picture.

It's all a long, silent pause in the moment. The only thing we can hear is my son's heavy breathing, and the silence is so deafening that my ears hear the touch on the screen.

"You know what would be really good?" I ask him, and he just looks at me with expectant, round eyes. I take one of his hands and move it to the soft surface of my mound, right where the thin stretch marks topping my big breast begin, allowing him to feel its softness. He doesn't squeeze, but his touch is firm on my chest, and I can feel the warmth of his palm. "You should take a picture like this, with your hand on it, so you can... You know. It'll be easier for you to imagine me when you do it."

He doesn't say a word, but he stares at me, still holding my boob in his hand. "Yeah, okay," he whispers, staring at me, and he takes another pic of his little, teenage hand shyly touching my chest.

Then I realize I should help him a little, and I pull my T-shirt down under both of my breasts, exposing my whole chest, whilst I take his phone from his hand and grab his other palm so it can do the same as the other. "I'll take the pictures now, so you can feel free to touch me. Okay?"

The hints of guilt grow inside me as I talk to him this way, but the arousal is growing even stronger in my body when I find with my gaze the same bulge I saw last night when he couldn't resist my sexual advances.

My son nods, his mouth still closed at the same time he's staring at my breasts in awe. He moves his hand on the flesh of my boob and he begins to knead it, making the warmth from his palm go right through the thick layer of my skin, making me feel a tingling sensation growing inside my vagina.

His eyes go from my boobs to my face, and I smile at him. "Go on, baby."

My son's hands move down my meat, and they hold my boobs from below, with their weight in his palms. Then he pushes them together with his bolder fingers, and he looks at me amazed, like a child that's discovered a new toy.

"They're so heavy... It still feels weird when I hold them like this," the teen boy mumbles.

I burst out laughing. "I know, right?"

He shakes his head, but his eyes are still glued to my tits. "They're so huge. It's hard to believe they're real, Mom. Not that I mean they're fake or anything, but they look... Too good to be true."

I chuckle again, so satisfied with his obsession with my assets. "I see what you mean, Jason. But they're real. They're yours now," I say, and his eyes move to my face again.

With one of my hands trying to hold my son's phone and framing the whole scene with a selfie posture, the fingers on my other hand begin caressing his short hair locks. The first pictures are blurry, but I manage to get some good ones with his palms moving on my chest and a mischievous smile on my expressive face.

"I think you're going to have a lot of pictures," I tell my boy, but he's not really reacting to my words. "You'd better move them into a private folder or something."

"Sure, Mom. I'll do that right away."

"I don't want anyone finding out I have such a touchy-feely son like you."

"Moooom... Come on," he complains, removing his hands from my breasts. "It still kinda makes me feel... Like... You know... Embarrassed."

Instantly, I take his forearm again and place it over my right tit, while I continue to take pictures of us. "Don't you want more pics, baby?"

Jason stares at my tits for a moment, his eyes move in the direction of mine, and I give him a naughty wink. His face is so red now I can feel the heat from his cheeks, and it's his own shyness that makes him quickly surrender to my request. His hands move along my breasts again, and his fingers stroke my chest, feeling its fullness.

"Wow, look at this one," I speak, showing him the last picture I took. "You look so into it, baby. I love it. I'm thinking I'll have you send me this one."

I look at him for a moment, and I see that my son has completely given up on trying to hide his erection from me. His T-shirt is tented over his bulging crotch, making it not hard to detect he's been hard ever since I offered him to take pictures of my tits.

"I can't believe you haven't asked me yet, baby…" I start saying, now taking some pics of my boy's hand on my boobs.

He looks at me with confusion on his face. "Asked you what, Mom?"

I sigh deeply, and I try to hide my smirk, but I fail miserably. "I mean, you have my big boobs right here, and you haven't even tried to taste them, Jason."

My son's eyes look so wide and innocent when he stares at me, his mouth hangs open slightly. I can see he's trying to say something, but he's so nervous that he can't even do that.

I'm starting to enjoy this more than I should.

"It's okay, baby. I don't mind. Just... You don't have to ask for permission. You can just go for it. I'm sure you want some pictures sucking on your mom's tits, right?"

Jason swallows hard, and he bites his lip, lowering his eyes. His hand keeps kneading my breasts, but the other moves to the front of his pants, and I know he's trying to adjust the hard member pressing against the fabric.

I can't help but let out a giggle when I see him doing that.

"What is it, Jason? Do you need some help with that?" I ask him, raising my eyebrow and staring at him with my best naughty look. "You know what our new deal includes. Your mom isn't going to let you suffer like this, honey. If you need it, I'm here for you."

He looks at me, his cheeks on fire and his breathing labored, and he bites his lip again. "I... I guess..."

"So..." I say, moving closer to him and running my fingers through his hair. "Do you want me to help you out with that?"

Jason's eyes go wide for a moment, and then he nods quickly. "I... I do, Mom. Please."

I smile at him and nod. "Alright. But first..." I continue, placing my hand on the back of his neck. "I want you to kiss these needy tits of mine. Can you do that?"

I stare at him in a motherlier way now, trying to make my son feel more comfortable with me, and then his mouth opens slightly, like a watering cave in the desert, at the same time I pull his head towards my chest. "Okay."

The phone on my other hand takes another picture, pointing at him while I tenderly bury his head inside my boobs, breathing heavily on the long line between them. He seems unsure about what to do next, rubbing his face on the flesh, sniffing and smelling my skin, his hands now resting on the sides of my hips.

I caress his back for a moment, and I feel the small bumps of his spine under my fingers, and I press him harder against me. "Use your mouth, Jason. You have to kiss them."

He just nods in there, and his shy, little kisses are so gentle and innocent that I feel the extreme need to ask him to nurse on them.

"That's it, baby. You're doing great," my whisper comes out with my fingers caressing his head and his phone still on my hand, pressing the button to take another picture of him and me every time he makes contact with my skin.

My son keeps kissing my tits for a couple of minutes. Then I say "Your tongue," and just like that he begins to lick them, slowly running his wet flesh along the curves of my areolas, making me moan softly and close my eyes for a moment.

He seems so amazed by the softness of my boobs on his tongue.

I rest my arm on his back, stroking his neck, and at this point, I'm so hot that I don't even realize I've thrown his phone on the bed, not minding about the stupid photos anymore.

Both of my hands surround his adolescent head, and since I had almost forgotten how good it felt to have a man's mouth on my huge breasts, my nipples become as hard as I've never seen them before.

But this little man is my son, he came from my own womb, and that's exactly why he seems to be such a master when it comes to sucking on my heavy mounds. I feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, the touch of his tongue on my flesh, and the wetness of his saliva on my skin. He doesn't care about my stretch marks or how much older I am, he doesn't care about the way I look in this T-shirt or my short pants. He's just doing it because he wants to, and I'm feeling a huge wave of happiness and satisfaction rushing through my veins when I realize that this is exactly what he needed from his loving mother all along.

I moan softly, letting him know he's doing a good job, and he breaths deeply with me, rubbing his face on my tits. "My nipples, baby. Kiss my nipples too," I mumble, and he looks up at me.

His eyes are filled with so much desire and lust that I don't think there's any more remorse in them. He doesn't seem to know how to do it, but he's so adorable right now, so inexperienced and young, that I feel my pussy burning with desire to break all of his barriers.

I caress his head, and move gently his face, making his lips approach my nipple, and he brushes his mouth on the surface of my areola. Jason looks at me for a moment, and then he licks my right nipple, his tongue sliding along the sensitive skin. The teenager does it lightly, kissing it slowly, teasing it with his teenage lips.

That's exactly as I like my breasts to be touched and kissed, which is startling since I didn't really explain this to him, and the way he does it makes me wonder if he was just born to know exactly how to please his mother's breasts.

"Lick it, baby," I whisper, placing my hand on the back of his head again, scratching his scalp with my nails. "Just like you're doing it. You're earning every single reward you're going to get for this, Jason." I grab his jaw with my hand, lovingly guiding his mouth to my left breast. "This one's jealous, sweetie. Make her feel loved too."

My son stares at me with his puppy eyes and then he moves his face, his little lips closing around my left nipple. I watch his young face with my eyes wide open, and I gasp when I feel his tongue running around my sensitive point. His head, smaller than my bosom, is now buried in my tit, with his mug completely hidden by the heavy hanger while he sucks on my nipple.

His lips wrap around it, and he begins to suck it gently, his hand kneading my other breast, while his tongue plays with my erect nipple. The sensation is so intense that I almost feel like I should rip his clothes apart, push him down on the bed and take his virginity right here and now.

"You're so good at this, Jason," I whisper, stroking his head. "Soooo good! Just like when you were a baby. You have no idea how happy this makes me."

I can't hide my own pleasure anymore, making it difficult to keep the sexually-concerned mother role. My son's blue eyes stare at me for a moment, and then he turns his attention back to my breasts, kissing my soft flesh again, rubbing his face on them, while I keep talking to him.

"I remember how cute you were when you were little, and how much I loved to nurse you," I say, my voice full of love. "And now look at you, such a handsome young man, growing up before my eyes."

Jason keeps sucking my nipple, but he doesn't look at me anymore. He just keeps playing with my breast, kneading it, licking it, and sucking it; like his life depends on it.

"Rest your head on my legs, honey. I want to watch you do this," I tell him, and he confusedly gets off me while I make him weirdly lie down right next to the edge of the bed, me patting my thighs for him to know where I need him to lay.

He moves his head between my legs, and I let my enormous tits fall down on his young face. I notice his facial features are rubbing against the low part of my tits, and I guess my boobs are pressing on his nose, but I don't care about it, because this position will allow me to have better access to his already erect member.

"It's hard to explain, but you look extremely sexy and adorable with your mother's tits on your face," I whisper, caressing his hair, while he starts licking the lowest part of my breast. "That's it, baby. Lick it, sweetie. Just like that. You're doing so good," I coo, making sure to praise him and reward him for being such a good boy.

My hand holds his head from the back of it, and I pull it forward, making him move closer to my nipple, which he sucks greedily, slurping it with his mouth and his tongue, while my other hand gets sneakily inside his T-shirt, rubbing his smooth, warm chest.

I slowly slide down the surface of his belly, and I reach the elastic band of his briefs, feeling the tip of his hard dick pressing against it. It's at this moment when I don't feel the need to hesitate anymore about what to do next, with my hand slipping between his pants and his underwear, wrapping it around his shaft, squeezing gently with my fingertips rubbing the lower part of his still-covered glans.

My son lets out a soft moan against my nipple.

He loves this.

"Sweet Jesus, Jason!" I exclaim, my hand moving tighter along his cock. "So hard..." I feel his dick twitch on my fingers. "Know what? I think you won't be needing your pics too often, baby. At least, not at home," I say, smiling at him. "I don't see how I'm going to be able to stop myself from touching you when you look at me like this, baby. Your mom needs to see you cum in her hands too, Jason."

He stares at me speechlessly, and he seems both puzzled and shocked by my intentions, but I know he doesn't have any hope to stop me from doing it.

"You'll give up watching porn, honey," I say to him, glancing at his bulging, moist crotch in my hand. "But your mom will take care of you every time you feel the urge. You'll never need to be alone when you need it. You'll have me all the time, and you'll get to know the pleasure of a woman's touch every single day. Does that sound like a good deal?"

Jason can't answer. My son's body language speaks for itself, trembling and shivering under his mother's hands, but his puzzled face sends me the clear message that he's still having problems accepting what I'm saying. The contradiction between his actions and his mind is obvious, so I feel the need to make it clear to him.

"I'm your mother, baby. I love you, and I want to make you feel good. That's what good mothers are for, Jason," I whisper, still stroking his hair and his penis. His right arm is held against my back, and his other hand is still squeezing my now a little sore boob. "They take care of their boys, and make sure they don't hurt themselves."

He stares at me for a moment, and then his eyes go back to my breast. "But it's so weird, Mom."

The veins on his hard member are something I can feel through the fabric of his shorts, and I don't stop massaging his erection. "Do you really think so? Because to me it doesn't feel weird at all, sweetheart. I love you and I want to see you happy," I say, pulling his head even closer to my boob. "If you tell me you're feeling uncomfortable, I'll stop, just like I promised," I tell him, squeezing lightly his cockhead, assuring he's experiencing all the pleasure he should get from his creator's hands. I desperately hope he knows deep inside that this should be the most natural thing between us, mother and son. "Just say it, baby. If you don't feel comfortable about it, I won't insist. You know that."

My merciful eyes are on him, waiting for an answer, but his desire and lust are so strong that I can sense he's not really sure about it. I know he's torn between what his body wants and what his mind is trying to make him feel.

I want him to get the full pleasure of what I'm offering him, so I put all my efforts into his hard, creamy, teenage cock, trying to make him lose his mind, so he'll realize he shouldn't be afraid of enjoying the affection and tenderness of his mother.

"Jason..." I whisper, rubbing my breasts against his face, letting his tongue taste the softness of my skin.

"No, Mom... I don't... I don't want you to stop," he whispers against my nipple, his mouth closing around it again.

My hand on his hair never stops its movement, and my fingers squeeze harder around his cock, now pulling down the elastic band of his underwear under his testicles, and his dick pops out, bouncing against his stomach. "I know, baby. I know when you're honest with me, and I love you're so transparent with me, but I feel even prouder when you're honest with yourself too."

My fingers caress his cheek tenderly, and his blue eyes stare at me as I place my hand behind his nape, pulling him to my breast again. "It's my duty as a mother to take care of my boy's needs, sweetie. To make you feel good. It just comes naturally to me. That's why you can trust me to do this for you."

The beauty of his cock is almost blinding, and I can't help myself from taking it, wrapping my fingers around its shaft. My eyes move from it to my son's face, and I stare at him, caressing his neck as he keeps sucking my tits, with his eyes focused on what his mom is doing to his penis.

My son moans against my chest, his cock twitching and throbbing in my hand, while the other keeps his nape's skin warm, the tips of my fingers scratching his hair.

"You're a handsome boy, Jason," I whisper, my eyes fixed on the beautiful organ in my hand. "And your dick is just... It doesn't take too much for your mother to make you leak like this, honey," I whisper, moving my eyes to his face.

I can't help staring at it in awe, feeling like I'm in complete control of him right now. His face is contorted with pleasure, and he keeps moaning, while my fingers wrap around his cock wildly. I know he's still struggling to believe what I'm saying, but he seems to have completely given up trying to resist me.

"It's your touch, Mom... It feels so good," he says, looking at me with pleading eyes.

I move my fingers along the shaft and the tip, and I feel his skin is so smooth that it feels almost unreal, with my index finger caressing the slit at the top, feeling the pre-cum flowing through the sensitive head.

I never realized how great it could be to have such a young, inexperienced man like my son under my control and pleasure.

"Who's better at it?" I ask him, and he seems puzzled by my question.

"Better at what, Mom?" He asks, mumbling.

"Who's better at making you feel good? Your mother or you?"

Jason opens his mouth to speak, but he just closes it again, and then he shakes his head. "You're much better than me, Mom," he says, looking at me, and I chuckle.

I smile and move my hand to the base of his dick, while I rest my other palm on his chest now, rubbing the smooth pectorals, feeling his heartbeats. "That's because I'm your mother, sweetie" I whisper. "And your mom knows exactly what you need. I know exactly what you like. I know how you love to be touched, sweetie. It's exactly the same love I give you when I stroke your arms or your hair. Just different body parts."

The incestual dirty talk is too much for my son to handle, because he looks at me with his mouth half open, his lips wet with his saliva, and his eyes almost rolled back in his head from pleasure. Jason just keeps moaning, his eyes now fixated on his own cock, and I feel the warm stickiness of his precum smearing along my fingers.

I see him close, almost cumming, when I let my fingers go all the way to the tip of his dick, and I start teasing his sensitive glan with my middle finger, pulling the skin down a bit and pressing the tip of my digit against the hole, now massaging it with a circular movement while my long fingers rub the rest of his manhood. His back arches slightly, and his left hand goes from my boob to my left side, grabbing my cloth with force.

"Are you ready, baby?" I ask him, feeling his dick pulsate in my hand.

He nods again. "Yes, Mom..." With his eyes still half-closed and focused on me, I lean forward to see his face while he explodes in my tight grip, his whole body tensing as his orgasm takes over him.

I keep caressing his hard penis with my fingers, and his sperm spurts out from it and covers his stomach and thighs, staining all the fabric of his clothes with full, white fluid. My son lets out a guttural moan and his body shakes between my hands, while his semen begins to ooze again slowly from his dick. I pull him harder against my body, and his mouth remains open as he keeps gasping for air.

"M-Mom..." he mumbles. I look at my hand covered in his seed, and I can't help but smirk as I realize how much pleasure I'm able to give him with just my hands and some spicy words. "Oh God, Mom..." he mutters again, panting as he buries his face between my breasts, rubbing his soul on the softness of my skin.

My hand holds the back of his head, and I caress his neck and his back as I watch him calming down from the sweet afterglow of his orgasm. His mouth opens and closes between my breasts, but he's not able to suck on them right now, not with my heavy flesh covering his face. I caress his hair tenderly, while I feel his fourteen-year-old penis getting softer in my hand while his breath hits my skin.

"So beautiful... You're such a good boy, Jason," I whisper. "My perfect, good boy."

The boy seems to be completely lost between the pleasure of his orgasm and the warmth of my big breasts against his face. He's still out of breath, and he keeps rubbing his face between my tits lightly, enjoying the sensation.

"Are you okay, baby?" I ask him, and he nods.

"Yeah, Mom..."

"You sure?" I ask again, and he nods again, smiling lightly against my skin.

"I just love how you smell, Mom," he mutters, moving his hand to my breast again, but he just squeezes it softly.

Once again, his hand looks almost minuscule against my tits, but this time his touch feels different to me. The way he holds me doesn't seem so innocent anymore, and his desire to touch me more openly seems to have grown in less than twenty-four hours.

"Know you do..." I chuckle, caressing his back, and I keep looking at his slim body, his skin so similar to mine, and my eyes wander around, admiring the youthfulness of his body.

His cock is covered in teenage cum, but I keep stroking it anyway, caressing its length, and I begin to imagine his young penis entering my mature cunt, stretching the walls of my pussy.

That will come. But not today.

"So... Did you enjoy that, baby?" I ask him, still smiling at him.

His blue eyes open to look at his mom, and his lips curve into a shy smile. "Yeah, Mom. It was amazing," he speaks against my skin, making me feel a shiver running down my spine. "I love you."

They say men's most sincere time is right after they orgasm, when their mind is still foggy with the effects of the climax and they can feel if they were just horny or if they truly loved what they just did. They say it's when they're in the afterglow that they're more honest and open to confessions.

This one, this confession, shaped in his sweet and shy teenage voice, sends me over the edge and I want to cry out loud.

I feel the same as him right now, that I love him so much, probably much more than he loves me back, even though I'm the one who just gave him the much-needed pleasure.

"I love you too, baby," I speak, caressing his head tenderly.

We remain in this position for a moment, while I keep caressing him with my fingers, feeling his body still tensing and relaxing from time to time. He doesn't seem to want to pull his face out from under my breasts, and I don't mind having him so close to me, since I don't feel like letting him go, but I know his cum is getting dry and cold on his stomach and clothes.

"I should get you cleaned up, baby," I say, and he lets out a long sigh. "And you should change into something fresh."

Jason doesn't answer. He just keeps rubbing his face on my tits, like he isn't really thinking at the moment, making me find him cute and sweet.

"Come on, get up," I say, pulling my chest away from his face.

He does as I say, and he looks at me with those big eyes of his, and his expression is so sweet and innocent that I feel the need to kiss him right there. "Any guilty thoughts?" I say, while he stares at me with his eyes half-closed and rests his back against the headboard for a moment.

He shakes his head, kind of smiling. "No. Not yet, I guess. Maybe tomorrow."

"I'll make sure you don't have any," I whisper, giving him a naughty wink, and he chuckles.

The devilish grin forms on my face, my son returns it with his shy expression, and I take his hand, pulling him off the bed, and making him stand up in front of me. He looks at me puzzled when I remove his T-shirt and the rest of his clothes, and I leave him standing completely naked. I find a pack of wet wipes on his shelf and take one of them to clean his penis gently and carefully, making sure to get every last drop of cum off it.

The boy's young body looks so deliciously vulnerable like this, his strong legs barely giving him support, and his beautiful cock getting wiped clean by my mature, motherly hands. I know that I should probably feel remorse about what we've done, but I can't stop myself from feeling so good right now. I know I shouldn't be doing this with my own son, but I can't deny how happy I feel to have him under my control, and I can't stop myself from feeling so attracted to his youthful, sweet body.

The real sentence I'm trying to formulate suddenly becomes clear in my mind.

I am so in love with my son.

"Ahhh... It's quite delicate right now, Mom," he says.

I laugh, almost timidly, and then I move my hands to his balls, rubbing them tenderly with the tips of my fingers, making sure to clean them carefully.

"Can I say something?" He nods quickly. "But you have to promise you won't react like the little drama queen you are when I compliment you," I tell my son, holding his now soft manhood between my fingers and rubbing it with my nails.

He laughs, and I can see that my words have finally brought him back from his post-orgasmic bliss. "Okay, Mom. What is it?"

My thick lips approach his ear, and I whisper in his ear in the most seductive and wicked tone of voice that I can find. "You have the most beautiful penis I've ever seen, Jason," I moan to him. "So perfect."

I kneel down and give it a long kiss on the tip, making sure to let him feel my warm breath and my soft lips on his sensitive skin for a couple of seconds. Then I release my grip and I look at my fourteen-year-old boy, who's staring at me like an enchanted kid.

I stand up again and bend over again to kiss my baby on his lips, brushing against my mouth, his eyes staring into mine. My bite on his lower lip is a brief reminder to him that he's still under my power, even if right now I just want to show him how much I love him.

"I'll take your clothes and put them into the washer," I whisper to him, kissing him on the tip of his nose, and then hiding my big breasts inside my yellow cloth again. "Don't take too long when I call you for dinner, okay? You know I hate it when you make me wait."

"Sure," he says, nodding, but his eyes are fixed on my chest.

I giggle one more time, and I walk to the door. "Oh, and make sure you always pee after ejaculating like that. Okay, baby? It's very important for your health," I tell him, opening the door and blowing him a kiss from the distance.

"I'll do that, Mom. But… Jeez, I can't believe you're okay with us doing this" Jason says, making me stop my walk and turning around. "I never knew..."

"You never knew I loved you this much, huh?" I ask him, leaning against the doorframe, and he looks up at me, falling with his butt on his bed. "You know what, baby? You can never underestimate a mother's love."

I leave him behind me, sitting naked in his room, reflecting on what I just said, and I seductively walk to the laundry room, knowing I'll be licking his sperm off his clothes while I touch myself in secret pleasure, not caring if it's cold or dry, just enjoying it because it's my son's.

Notes:

Writing that was sooo good! Tell me what you think about it.

I think next update will be around the 28th-30th. See you then!

Chapter 9: Contidional Tenses

Notes:

Hello everyone! I hope you're having a fantastic summer, just like mine.

Many of you may be wondering why I've been taking about two weeks to publish each chapter lately, considering that I used to publish weekly at the beginning. Well, there are essentially two reasons that explain it. First of all, during the summer, I tend to have a more active social life than usual, and I spend a lot of time outside of the house, which paradoxically leaves me with less time to write. The second reason is that now the chapters take longer to write because they are longer too, and I'm putting more effort into the style, grammar, and, above all, being satisfied with the character development.

As of today, I've completed the draft from chapter 10 to 15, although I'm still figuring out how the story will continue afterward. The thing is, I'd like to maintain a consistent publishing rhythm, so for now, the best balance I've found is to publish every fifteen days (around the 15th and 30th of each month, depending on my availability).

Also, I changed the name a little bit just to make it a little bit more appealing. Let me know what you think about it! I hope you understand all I explained and enjoy the chapter.

Hugs to all!

Chapter Text

"Bro, I know I've told you a thousand times already, but your mom's hot as f-"

My son's door is half-open when the sudden voice of his best friend reaches my ears, and I immediately freeze right where my feet are. Life is a coincidental series of events, and sometimes fate wants to bring you exactly where it wants you to be. Just when I was passing by, almost ready to leave, I hear the teenager's voice saying those unanticipated words.

"Dude! Enough with this shit!" Jason reprimands his friend. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

I can't see them, but I can hear them talking, and I'm almost afraid they could notice my presence outside in the hallway.

"Calm down, bro," Alex tries to explain, laughing lightly at Jason's reaction. "I respect her and all, but I can't help it, man. It's just..."

"Careful there, Alexander," Jason cuts him off, and I can almost feel his anger growing when his friend speaks next.

"Just listen to me for a sec, alright? I swear this is a compliment, I mean, it's nice," Alex says, his tone changing completely, and sounding sincere and calm, trying to reason with him while my son remains silent. "There's that MILF-thing about her, you know what I mean?"

"She's my mother, you moron!" My son yells back, making me smile as I hear my boy trying to defend my honor.

I'm his mother.

"Drop it, Alex," says Alex's sister, Sarah, intervening as well now, but I can't tell if she's being serious or if she's joking with her brother. "He clearly doesn't wanna hear you say that sexist shit."

"Okay, okay!" Alex says, and I can imagine him raising his hands in surrender, with an apologetic look on his face. "I know she's your mom, Jase. But think about it, bro! She's hot. You know it and I know it. Even Sarah thinks your mom's hot, and she's just a girl."

"Hey! Don't drag me into this, Alex," Sarah complains.

"You said so, sis. You can't deny you did. Or you're going to lie to Jason?"

"Did you?" My son's voice interrupts them, and I can hear the concern in his voice as he asks Sarah to confirm Alex's statement.

It takes a few seconds before Sarah answers. "Alright, alright... Yeah, I did."

"Sarah... It's not cool. Don't feed this asshole's sick mind," Jason says, sighing deeply, but I can tell from his voice that he's not really mad anymore.

"Why is it so bad? It's just an opinion, dude," Alex says, his voice sounding amused and sarcastic, and I can imagine him shrugging. "You can't tell me you haven't noticed she's got this... You know... I don't know how to explain it," he says, trying to find the right words.

"Alex, what you say next could end our friendship, dude," Jason warns him, his tone low, but he doesn't sound too serious about it.

"Man, you know... She's tall and... Curvy, like, not plump or anything, but she's just... I mean, look at the other moms! They're all old, fat, and ugly, but she's..."

"Wow, wow," Sarah cuts him off, and she sounds both angry and disgusted with her brother. "Jase, I'd like to say that even if I share genes with this idiot, I'm not like him, okay?"

"I know, Sarah," Jason's voice says, but it sounds almost forced, and it doesn't feel like he's totally fine with what his friend is saying about his mother.

"Hey, I'm no idiot," Alex defends himself. "I'm just trying to say that your mom is... Attractive. I mean, with those huge tits-"

"Oh, come on! I think I've heard enough!" Jason yells. "It's bad enough that you say this shit in front of me. If my mom hears it, she'll kill you for sure. You know she's in her office, right?"

"What? Yeah, of course, I know she's in there," Alex says. "But she can't hear us, man, can she?"

I'd be lying if I said I'm not glad Alex has become one of Jason's closest friends, even if he seems to be a little less mature than my son. A male friend is just what he needs, in contrast with his other closest friend, Amanda, who I still find very annoying for many reasons.

"I don't know," Jason answers, and he sounds annoyed. "Just... Keep it quiet, alright? For fuck's sake."

"Alright, alright! But I wanna hear you admit it at least once," Alex says.

"What? What do you mean?" Jason asks.

"That your mom's hot. Say it," he says.

That boy really is a little, twisted pervert.

"Don't fall for that, Jase," Sarah says, and I can almost see the expression on her face, knowing her brother's ideas could get Jason upset. "He's just trying to get you pissed off."

"I can see that!" Jason blurts. "No way, Alex."

"Don't be like that, Jason. I'm serious. Your mom's hot. Just say it."

"I won't say it," Jason replies.

"Say it. You know it's true. I dare you," Alex insists.

A long silence follows Alex's demand, and I wonder what my dear son is going to say next. I wonder if he'll actually do it, even though he surely is too shy to say something like that.

"If I do it, you have to promise me you'll drop it, okay? If I say it it's just to make you shut the fuck up, and not because it's true or anything," Jason finally says.

Oh, really?

"Jase…" The girl seems to be trying to help her friend.

"Sure, dude," Alex says.

"And you'll never tell anyone I said this," Jason demands.

"I swear, man. No one will ever know about this," Alex replies.

Another long silence steps in the room, and I can't help but smile when I realize Jason is giving in. I can't really understand why I feel this way, but I can't deny I'm getting excited to hear my son say it.

"She's kinda... She's fine, okay?" Jason finally says.

"Bro, come on! Fine? That's all?" Alex asks him, and I can tell by the tone of his voice that he's disappointed with Jason.

"What do you want me to say?!" My son blurts out.

"Well, I don't know. Something else, man," Alex says. "Something like... I think my mom is the most beautiful woman in the world. That would be perfect. Or... Oh, I know. I think my mom's hotter than any other mom in the world. That would be awesome!"

"You're a fucking idiot," Jason replies.

"Come on, man! It's not my fault you can't see how hot your mom is," Alex says. "I mean, I know I'm only fourteen and everything, but still... If I wasn't your friend, bro, and especially if I were dating your mother, I wouldn't dare to hurt her feelings or anything..."

I hear my son getting up violently from his chair, with Alex not hiding his laugh.

"You son of a...!"

"What are you guys talking about?" I ask in a sultry tone, knocking on the door before entering my son's room.

The teenage kids turn their heads to see the middle-aged woman standing in front of them. I'm not dressed in a provocative way at all, but both boys' gazes dance all over me, from top to bottom. The loose blue sweater I'm wearing could never hide the volume of my breasts, nor my jeans are able to conceal the curves of my body.

Jason is standing in the middle of his room, with a red T-shirt on and the darkish jeans he usually wears during Winter.

Alex and Sarah are sitting on my son's bed, and they seem to be both shocked and surprised at the sight of me, but Alex seems to have no intention to hide his both lustful and scared eyes staring at me.

"Just video games and... Stuff," Jason says, trying to avoid my eyes.

I smile at him and then look at the two teenagers sitting. "Well, I have no idea what you were doing here, but I can tell the conversation was pretty heated."

"We... We were talking about girls, Mrs. Matthews," he confesses, letting a long pause after my last name.

My eyes are suddenly fixed on Alex's, and he can feel the weight of my stare, but he doesn't seem to be bothered by it in any way. His black hair is cut short, his eyes are dark, his jaw is smooth and his skin is fair and swarthier than my son's. He's slim like Jason, but somewhat manlier than him, a couple of inches taller too, and even if he doesn't look nearly as attractive as my son does, I can't say he's not a handsome teenager.

Sarah's hair is dark too, and her eyes are light brown. The girl's skin is tanned and her lips are fuller than her brother's, but her jaw seems a little thinner. She's tall too, probably as much as my son, and her figure looks almost fully developed into a woman's body.

Judging by their clothes, I'm sure their parents must be pretty wealthier than me and Jason, and I have to admit they know how to choose their clothes better than my boy. The boy's wearing an oversized white hoodie, black briefs, and sneakers, and the girl has on a simple pair of jeans and a green top, with her hair tied in a ponytail.

"I see..." I smile, turning to my son, who's standing in the middle of the room, and then to the girl. "Who's telling the truth, Sarah?"

She seems to be lost in surprise, and for a moment she just stares at me, until she regains her senses. "Uh... They were talking about Amanda, Mrs. Matthews," she says, saving the day for the boys.

Alex gives her a funny slap on her arm, making him look like a quite good actor to me.

I put my hands on my hips, and I tilt my head to the side. I chuckle, and I decide to have some fun with the situation. "Thanks for your honesty, Sarah. Boys can be really false when they want to."

"You're telling me," Sarah says, giving me an extroverted smile.

I can't help but feel like she's a much better catch than Amanda to me. She's natural, funny, and charming, and she's very easy to talk to. Would I like her that much if Jason had a crush on her just like the one he has on Amanda? Well, maybe not that much, but certainly I could see the reasons behind his interest in her.

"Yeah, he can't stop talking about her," I say, stepping closer to my son and surrounding him with my arm, pressing my breasts against his arm. "Can you?"

"That's not true..." He defends himself.

"Oh, but it is!" Alex says, smiling at me. "He's totally hooked on her, Mrs. Matthews."

"Is he?" I ask, feeling a sudden stomachache after hearing those words.

Hooked on her, huh?

Don't worry, baby, I'll make sure I remove that hook from the roots sooner rather than later.

"Yeah, he's obsessed with her, Mrs. Matthews," he says, looking at Jason. "I'm helping him get her attention, you know? I'm his wingman."

Oh, yeah, just like when he made both Amanda and my son upset and humiliated in his house some weeks ago. I'll never forget the face my boy had on him when he got home that day.

"You? I'm the one who's helping him, dumbass," Sarah says, punching Alex in the shoulder.

"You're really a douchebag, Alex," Jason says, looking at him like he's the scum of the Earth.

"Language, honey," I tell him, and then look at Alex and Sarah, smiling. "And how are you helping my son, exactly?"

"Just with a bit of advice, Mrs. Matthews," Alex answers. "They're getting along, and I know for a fact that she's interested in him too."

I feel like I'm about to burst into a histerical laughter, but I manage to contain myself, keeping my face straight.

"I see. You're a good friend to your pal, Alex," I tell him, and I notice he's blushing now too. "It's great to know Jason has someone who can help him out. I wish I could repay you somehow," I say, smiling, and I can't help but see the lustful look on his face while he's staring at me, like he's undressing me with his eyes and imagining what could happen between us when I hypothetically would return the favor to him.

"No need, Mrs. Matthews," he says, trying to sound as polite as possible.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's the least I could do for a friend of my son's," I say, looking at him with the naughtiest smile I can manage, waiting for my son's reaction, who seems just a little disturbed by his mother's kind-of-flirtatious attitude with his friend.

"Oh, I'm sure," the boy says, now significantly intimidated by my grin and words. "Really."

"Alright then, boys and girl," I reply, and then I turn my head to my son, who seems to be in some kind of inner turmoil, like he can't believe what I'm doing and saying, but also like he can't get angry because it's his mom and he's scared of upsetting me in any way. "I should be going now... Uh, sweetie, can you come with me downstairs? I need some help with some housework" I lie to my son.

"Do you need my help too, Mrs. Matthews?" Alex asks, playing the polite teenager while he looks at my bosoms fleetingly.

Boys are adorable sometimes, aren't they?

"No need, Alex, but thank you. You can stay here playing those... Video games with your sister while I take my son with me. It'll only take five minutes, I swear." I promise with a wink on my face.

Jason and I get out of the room together, walking down the stairs without exchanging any words. The moment we reach the kitchen, I catch my son by the collarbone with one hand and pull him towards me with a malicious smile on my face.

"So... Talking about that girl again, huh?" I say, rubbing my hands against his chest through his T-shirt. "Seems like you can't stop talking about her."

"Mom, I didn't... I mean, it's not like that," Jason says, stuttering a bit. "We... We weren't talking about her... It's just that he keeps asking me about her and..."

I laugh, and I pull him towards me, pressing his body against mine. My big breasts rest on his chest, and my crotch touches his hip. "I know, silly. I know what you were talking about. I was just teasing you a little," I whisper to him, stroking his cheek. "I heard how you stood up for me, baby," I tell him, staring into his eyes as well as possible with just a couple of inches between us. "That means the world to me."

My son sighs, and I caress his neck while I place my hand on his back. "I just don't want him to say anything inappropriate about you, Mom" he whispers.

I feel my pussy burning up, and I smile at him. "I love how you care about me," I say to him, leaning forward and kissing him on his cheek.

The kiss is soft and chaste, and it's nothing like the other kisses I've given him in the last couple of weeks, but it still makes me feel tingly inside. My son's eyes are fixed on me, and I can tell he's wondering what's going on inside my mind. I let my left leg fall around his waist, and my thigh slides along his crotch area, causing his member to grow in size just enough.

"What did you need, Mom?" He asks, his face turning red again.

"Really? You don't know?" I purr seductively to him, now letting my hand fly around his growing bulge. "Let's see... Hmmm..." I whisper, rubbing his cock with my index finger and pulling my mouth close to his ear. "What could I need? 'Cause I believe it's you the one in need now."

The teenager opens his eyes widely, and I feel his young member throbbing under my touch. "M-Mom..." he mumbles, looking down at the way my fingers are rubbing his dick, hidden inside his jeans. I slide my fingers across his length over his pants and wrap my hand around it firmly, pumping it carefully.

The boy is rock-hard already.

"My friends... Alex and Sarah… They're upstairs..." Jason whines, trying to sound serious but failing miserably.

I push my hand harder against my son's pants, grasping his dick roughly in my fist, squeezing and fondling it with lustful passion. "Oh, come on... They won't hear a single thing, baby. You know I can make you finish in one minute if you want to, don't you?" I whisper to him, moving my lips against his earlobe. "You're so hard right now."

My son's head falls backward, and his eyes roll back in his head as I feel his dick pulsating on my palm, the veins on it throbbing. I rub his bulge a little more, and I hear him moaning carefully and sighing while my fingers explore his young shaft.

"Mom... This is not a good idea..." He tries to resist me. "You've done it today already... In the morning, before school," he tries to reason.

"That's right. But most of days I've already made you cum at least twice at this hour" I answer back, continuing to stroke his shaft vigorously. I press my lips against his neck and rub Jason's dick all over with one of my fingers, drawing slow circles on his head that make him squirm.

"It's... Risky. We can do it after they leave," he argues with me.

I chuckle lightly, and I stop for a moment, placing my fingers around the base of his dick, and I start playing with his balls through his pants. I move my body closer to him, and my lips reach his ear again. "Damn, baby. I didn't know I had such a boring son..." I whisper.

I'm horny as hell.

My hand on his crotch starts moving again, and I rub his penis with my fingers, while I feel his cock growing even larger against my palm. "Mom..." he says.

I have to remind myself I promised him to respect his boundaries, so I slowly release my grip on his manhood, and I move my hand away from his body, but I keep my arm around him. "All right, all right! You win" I sigh, giving up, and I move my face away from his ear. "Later, I get it."

"Thanks, Mom" he replies, but his tone of voice doesn't really seem to reflect the gratefulness he should be feeling right now.

I look at him for a moment, and I decide to tease him a little more. "But don't think you're going to escape from it, Jason," I place my hand on his bulge again, and I grab it, giving it a little squeeze on his glans before pulling away again. "I'm gonna take you to the edge tonight. So make sure to be ready by then."

He nods, and his face remains expressionless for a moment, but then he smiles awkwardly. "Okay, Mom. I will."

I can't help but grin at him. "Behave yourself and clean the dishes for me while I'm gone," I say, grabbing my purse from the kitchen chair and walking to the front door.

This has been another part of our deal lately. He's been doing some little chores around the house, like tidying up his room or washing the dishes when I'm too busy, which is always. During the last few days, my boy has learned quickly that the best way to make sure his mom is happy with him is to help her with her everyday chores. I can't deny it feels good to know I'm not alone in this house, and I can feel he's actually enjoying the way I'm rewarding him for his efforts.

I think it's a good arrangement for him considering he gets to have his mom jerking him off whenever he needs it.

"Gone where?" He asks.

The way he asks the question is so innocent that I can't help but smile at him, even though I'm a little upset. "You don't seem to listen to me, do you? I told you I'm starting my painting lessons today with Phoebe, sweetie."

He seems puzzled for a moment, but then he realizes I told him exactly that during dinner last night. "Oh, right... I totally forgot about that. I'm sorry, Mom."

"That's why I wanted to give you some relief before going anywhere, baby. I didn't want to leave my son alone with his friends and horny, waiting for me to return. But since you're so stubborn..." I pause, next to the door beside him, and I give him a peck on his soft lips.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he says, with his face showing genuine regret.

"That's okay, baby," I say, caressing his cheek tenderly. "I'll see you when I get back. Be a nice host to your friends while I'm gone, okay? Have fun."

"I will, Mom," he replies. "You too!"

I wave goodbye to him and leave the house, closing the door behind me and beginning my walk to Phoebe's house, that's closer to the school art than mine. The weather outside is nice today; sunny with a bit of breeze that feels pleasant enough on my skin, and the slightly cold air fills my lungs with some freshness that I like a lot.

Life's just good lately.

Danielle Simmons has a small art academy near downtown. It only takes fifteen minutes to go there on foot, which is why I don't really mind doing it with Phoebe.

Danielle teaches painting and drawing classes, but she also offers sculpture courses from time to time. Even though she works mainly with children, last week she announced this new course, Painting and Drawing for Busy Adults, and Phoebe thought that naming was appealing enough to ask me to sign up with her and learn something new.

But right now I'm a little frustrated with the attempt of painting in front of me. The trees I'm trying to portray don't look like anything that would ever be considered art, and the only thing the greenish color in my canvas manages to do is remind me of the color of a vegetable soup's stain.

We've been here for an hour, and I don't know what else I could add to the canvas that would make the fucking tree look like the ones from the picture of the park outside the window.

"That looks like shit, Sam" Phoebe chuckles, looking at the canvas on my easel.

"I know, I know... Seriously, what's wrong with it? What am I doing wrong?"

"I'm no painter, you see, but I just know it looks like crap," she teases me.

"Hey, it's my first day!" I insist, defensively, but laughing too.

"It's my first day too and mine looks better than yours," my new friend retorts.

"Let's be honest, both are awful," says Danielle, watching us from behind. "But that's okay! This isn't supposed to be perfect at the start" the teacher reassures us, smiling widely. "This is only a beginning point, to start learning and having fun. To get distracted from this dull life we're condemned to live."

She's a pretty average-looking woman, probably in her late forties, with short, black hair and dark eyes. She's tall and slim, and she's wearing a green dress and white high heels, which, together with her outfit, give her a very feminine appearance. She has a wonderful, deep, musical voice, and she seems to have a great passion for what she does.

"I understand you're frustrated, but hey, we all need to start somewhere, girls," she tells us. "You chose the wrong color there, Samantha. And Phoebe, you should use a bigger brush for those trees. But that's something I know because I've painted hundreds of these before."

I stare at my painting, feeling embarrassed about the fact that even though I tried to follow all the instructions of the teacher, it still looks like utter shit to me.

"Mine doesn't look like anything close to that picture, Danielle," I say, looking at the canvas again.

"You can't expect to paint like a professional painter in your first lesson, Sam," she replies. "Why are you so impatient?"

"I guess I'm acting like a capricious teenager," I chuckle, turning my gaze back to her.

"Skills require patience, and I assure you by the end of this course you'll know how to paint a tree. It's like... You're both moms, right?" We nod, and Danielle continues speaking. "I've never had any children, but I'm sure that when you gave birth to your babies, it took you some time to get used to being a mom. You didn't know how to change diapers or how to hold them properly on the first days, and you probably thought you'd never manage to do it right. Am I right? Then, as time passed by, you mastered the… Art of being a mom, and now, it just feels natural to you, doesn't it? I'm sure right now you know exactly what your kids need, and you know exactly what the best way is to make them feel safe and comfortable" she explains, and then smiles. We both keep listening to her, and she points at the trees in my painting. "Now imagine that painting is... What's your kid's name?"

"Jason," I answer, almost whispering.

"Jason," she repeats. "Imagine this canvas is Jason, and your job as an artist mom is to find out what he needs, and then give it to him," she tells me, and her words send a chill down my spine.

I can't give the painting a handjob, can I?

"It sounds easier said than done," I reason.

"You're worrying too much, Samantha," Danielle says, and then she looks at me with a smile on her face. "But remember what I told you: art is like being a parent. You have to discover what your child needs, and then provide it. You have to think about everything you want to paint. The color, the lines, the brush, the background, everything. That's how you know what the picture will need, and it's how you learn the process. And the process is the most important part. I'm sure you're a good mom, and I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say that, if you find a way to leave that capriciousness of yours aside when you hold that brush, you'll become a pretty good painter in no time." She pauses just before saying the concluding sentence of her speech. "I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say that, if you put your own wishes and ambitions above the needs of your children, you'll never be a good mother. It's the same with painting."

Yeah, the exact same.

"That was great, wasn't it?" Phoebe giggles happily to me, taking her cell phone out of her pocket and checking the time.

We're walking down the street heading home, carrying our bags filled with stuff we bought in the art store next to Danielle's school.

"Yeah, definitely. Thanks for asking me to come with you, Phoebs."

"Don't mention it," she looks at me with a sincere smile on her face. "I'd have to thank you myself. I'm tired of being the mom all the time, you know? Now I have a friend who can relate to me. And you're so much fun too! You're becoming a very good friend, Sam."

I look at her for a moment, and a smile forms on my lips when I realize how much she means it.

"Thanks, Phoebe. You too."

We walk in silence for a moment, and then she speaks again, because she's one of those people who can't let room for silence when the quietness lasts more than a few seconds. "So, how's Jason? You haven't talked about him today. That's weird in you."

I guess sometimes I'm something else than a mom too. "Yeah, that's true... He's fine. Same as always. A fourteen-year-old doing fourteen-year-old things."

"Is he still into that girl? The one you didn't like?" Phoebe asks. "What's her name?"

"Amanda," I reply, and then I sigh deeply. "And yeah, he is."

The sound of Phoebe's shoes hitting the ground fills the silence again between us for a moment.

"You still look a little upset about it," she comments, and I shrug my shoulders. "Can I ask you why you don't like her too much?"

"It's complicated" I reply, and she turns her head to me, giving me a questioning look. "She's just... My son thinks she's a very beautiful girl, of course. Apparently, she has lots of friends, and she's very popular with the boys at school" I say, feeling my blood boiling in my veins, as the images of the girl and my son flicker through my mind. "But I just can't understand why he likes her so much."

Phoebe remains silent for a moment, and then she speaks, "I don't know. Maybe he just wants to get his first girlfriend?"

His first girlfriend.

Just the mere thought of it makes my head spin with pure anger and envy as if I could never be as pretty or sexy to him as that girl, which could seem dumb considering I'm the one kissing him and making him cum every single day.

"That's the thing... I don't know if she's the right one for him" I confess, looking away from her and staring at the ground, following my feet's path as they move forward.

"Why do you say that?" Phoebe asks, her voice a little lower now.

I stop, and so does she. I look at the pavement again, at the sidewalk, and I try to figure out how to phrase my feelings about her without sounding like a jealous, possessive mother, knowing that's exactly what I am right now, despite I don't want to admit it.

"You can call it a 'mother's instinct' if you want. I know Jason better than anyone, and he's... He's different than the other boys his age" I finally say, not wanting to reveal my real motives to Phoebe. "She's not good enough for my son. She's nothing special, really. Not too pretty, not too smart, and certainly not too interesting, either. I know my son, and I'm sure he doesn't really like her, it's more like she's the girl that happened to be around when he wanted one."

I take a deep breath and then look at Phoebe, who's staring at me with a shocked expression on her face, and her eyes open wide as she listens to what I have to say about a fourteen-year-old girl who's just trying to become my son's girl.

"Wow! Those are big words, Samantha Matthews!" she exclaims after a moment. "You're really overprotective of him, aren't you?"

"Not overprotective, Phoebe" I correct her, trying to explain myself properly to my friend, and we start walking again. "Just protective," I repeat. "He's my son. I should be able to do that – protecting him, I mean –, and I'd never let my son date anyone I couldn't trust completely and fully," I realize what I just said, and I can't help but feel ashamed. "Does that sound weird?"

"No, no, not at all" she replies, and she gives me a comprehensive rub on my arm. "Don't worry, I know what you mean, Sam" she reassures me, and then she takes a long pause before saying anything else. "But what can you do? It's his choice, isn't it? I mean, you can't tell him who he can date."

I could.

"Of course not," I say, but then I think about all the manipulative ways I've already been using to control my son's life, and the last thing I want to do is to stop being a controlling mother with an overly protective nature towards him. "But I know he'll change his mind if he has someone who'll make him realize Amanda isn't the right girl for him."

Phoebe gives me a funny look, and then she laughs. "You're an evil bitch, you know that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, but then I can't stop myself from smiling widely, and we both burst into laughter.

"Jason, I bring pizza!" The dinner's not as hot as before in my arms, but I don't really care about that, because I can hear the sound of my son's feet stepping down through the stairs.

I can't believe how happy he looks when he sees the box I'm holding in my arms, and how excited he gets when he smells the cheese and tomato sauce from inside the box. Every kid loves that, right?

"Where are your friends?" I ask him, but it's a rhetorical question since I know the answer already.

"They went home" Jason replies, running down the stairs, and reaching me in no time.

His hands try to grab the box from my arms, but I move it away quickly and he looks up at me with puppy dog eyes. "Mom, come on, it's getting cold" he pleads.

"Give me a kiss and maybe I'll consider," I say, looking at him, and I can't stop myself from smiling when he leans forward, holding his face close to mine, and placing a soft kiss on my mouth for a brief second.

"It's not a kiss if it's not a long one, sweetie," I say, and his cheeks flush red.

He comes forward again, but it's me who kisses him this time, not wasting my opportunity, and I take a long, loving moment to press my lips against his and caress his neck with my free hand.

"Do you know how much I love you, baby?" I whisper into his ear, caressing his back as his body presses against mine.

"You tell me that every day, Mom," he answers, and I smile at his words.

My fingers linger down his spine, and then they slide towards his lower back until they rest on the waistband of his jeans. My hand slides down further to finally land on the lowest part of his cute butt, giving it a little squeeze, which makes him jump a bit, and a loud, girly giggle escapes my throat.

"Come on, sweetie, let's eat dinner," I tell him, breaking our embrace, and pulling away from him before slapping his young asscheeks as a way to indicate he should be moving.

He walks to the little table in the living room, and I follow him, admiring his ass, that's almost showing beneath the loose gray sweatpants he's wearing since the thin fabric doesn't leave much to the imagination. Oh, God, his buttcheeks have filled up pretty nicely lately.

Dinner is nice, the two of us enjoying each other's company while talking about our day briefly and watching who-knows-which-episode of How I Met Your Mother. I'm so happy that the TV show has become our favorite thing to watch together, one of the mother-son moments we share during the week, that it makes me wonder if he likes it because of the show itself, or because it's me that's watching it with him.

It doesn't really matter anyway.

"Dad called," he suddenly breaks the silence, finishing his slice with a last bite.

"What did he say?" I ask him carefully, already suspecting bad news.

"He wanted to know if I could come visit him anytime soon."

I swallow hard. I knew John would probably do that sooner or later, but I was hoping for later rather than sooner. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him I'd think about it and call him back next week," Jason says, looking down at his plate, and playing with the crusts on his plate. "I'm not sure about what to do, Mom."

"Don't you want to see your father?" I ask him, trying to sound casual, but knowing that the truth is I don't want him to spend a single second with his dad without me around.

"He's not a good father, Mom," Jason replies, his eyes still fixed on his plate. "Nor a good person."

Am I a good person?

"He's caused us pain, but he's still your dad."

"I know, but..." Jason tries to find the right words. "I don't think I'm ready to see him yet. Not after what he did to you."

A hint of satisfaction fills my heart when I hear my son saying that, but it's quickly replaced by an unpleasant sensation of guilt.

"You can do it when you're ready, Jason, sweetie," I say, placing my hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, okay?"

"Okay, Mom. Not that I'm looking forward to going, anyway" he admits grumpily.

"I understand, baby," A smile forms on my face. "But if you ever change your mind, you have my permission, okay?" I explain, knowing I'll be boycotting every single attempt he'll make to drag Jason to visit his apartment in the next months.

"Thank you, Mom," he says.

I give him another kiss on his perfect forehead, and then I clean up the table while he takes the plates and the cups to the kitchen sink.

We spend the next hour watching TV and resting after all the activity of a very busy day. The night could come across as a normal one, with my son distracted by the TV and me sitting close to him and watching it too. But the atmosphere in the room isn't the same as usual, and my mind keeps thinking about the conversation we had during dinner, about John and his plans to meet his son again.

Next episode's just beginning when my son turns his head to face me, and he looks at me with a serious expression visible in his eyes. "Mom, can I ask you something?"

I pulse pause and respond. "Of course, sweetie," I say, caressing his cheek tenderly, and letting my fingers travel through his short hair.

"I'm not sure if... If it's the right moment, you know? But it's something I've been thinking about for a few days."

I see where this is going. I knew this had to happen at some point, but I can't avoid getting a bit worried about what's coming next. About how I'm going to handle this situation.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"Mom, remember that thing you told me the day we spoke about the... About the rules?" He asks shyly, his voice suddenly sounding nervous and more tense than it was at any other moment today.

"I said many things that day, baby," I tell him, trying to ease his tension by making a joke out of it.

"I know, Mom. I'm referring to the thing you said about... About me going out with Amanda," he finally says.

I try to keep the desperate anger I feel growing in me out of my voice, and I smile at him, caressing his hair gently again. "Go on."

"I've been thinking about it... And I was wondering..." Jason mumbles while looking away from me, and trying to avoid my gaze and the expression on my face. "I was wondering... Could I... Ask her out?"

It's the first time my son has mentioned going out with her since the day we spoke about the deal. A sudden rush of jealousy makes me forget the shame of how I manipulated him into this situation. My heart demands the right to not allow him to see her again, but my head is coldly analyzing the damage it could do to me and my relationship with Jason if he saw me as a villain for being against him after promising I wouldn't oppose their friendship.

"Well, why not? It's what we agreed to, right?" I finally say, trying to sound relaxed about it, and even though it's not something that delights me, I decide to go with the flow of the conversation and play along.

"Really? You're not upset about it?" He asks, his eyes fixed on me with his teen face still blushing.

"Of course not, baby. You're a big boy now, and you're allowed to have a girlfriend," I tell him, but the fact is that, in reality, it's the exact opposite of what I'm thinking about right now. "But... There are conditions, of course," I add.

"Conditions?" He asks. "There are always conditions, aren't there?" I'm not sure if he's annoyed or joking, but it's a mixture of both, probably.

"Indeed, honey. You have to earn it," I explain chuckling.

"I'll do whatever you want, Mom. I'll clean the bathroom, or... Or... Anything," he promises, with his eyes wide open and his voice trembling.

"Oh, you'll clean the bathroom? That's a great idea" I joke with him.

Cleaning the bathroom isn't exactly what I have in mind, but I'm sure he knows that too well.

"No, I mean it, Mom. I'll do anything, just tell me what to do" He insists, and I look at his cute, eager face when a chuckle escapes my throat.

"You really like that girl, huh?" I ask him, but the moment the words leave my mouth, I regret saying them, because of the fear I sense inside my lungs and my heart that he'll confirm his stupid crush on her and will once again ruin my mood for the rest of the week.

"I do, Mom. A lot, actually," he says.

I feel like I'm swallowing a lump of lead, and I can't avoid feeling a sharp pain in my chest. "She's lucky. I hope she knows that. And I hope she appreciates you as much as I do" I say, caressing his hair tenderly. "So… Anything?" I ask him, raising one eyebrow, and letting my hand fall down from his head to his neck.

"Yeah, Mom, anything" he replies.

Anything, he says… Anything sounds good.

To have him saying that, ready to give me whatever I want, makes me feel really horny and greedy, and the shameful desire to have my way with him again and make him lose his mind in pleasure and ecstasy is back.

However, what I really need isn't something he can really give me, because it's not exactly what my body is asking for. This is going to cost him, but not in the way he expects. It's something that will make him regret even trying to go out with that fourteen-year-old bitch. And obviously, I'm going to take care of her later on too, when she'll be just enough calm and confident on her possibilities with Jason for me to make her pay for thinking she's allowed to date my son.

For now, I know how to make Jason think twice next time about dating Amanda.

"You don't have to do anything at all, sweetie," I smile at him. "But there are conditions, as I said."

"Tell me, Mom" he replies, leaning closer to me and waiting patiently for my response.

"Let's see, sweetie..." I start to think, trying to act cool about it, and even though I'm not sure how to phrase what I'm about to say, the words are already forming in my mind. "First of all, if she accepts your proposal, you'll have to tell me what your plans are. I want to know where you go, what you do, and if she makes you do anything weird."

"I'll tell you everything, Mom," Jason assures me, and the way he's looking at me right now, with those eyes wide open, and his expression showing nothing but devotion, is enough to make me wet down there, and to make me want to reward him for his dedication.

"Thanks, baby," I say, caressing his cheek, and letting my fingers go down his jawline, and then his neck.

"What else, Mom?" My son asks me, and his tone of voice is eager, and almost pleading now.

He needs more. He wants more of his mom telling him what to do. Like a good boy, he's waiting for his mother's guidance, and she's going to give him exactly what he's craving right now.

And there's more, of course.

"Next one is about me, baby," I tell him, and his eyes wander across my enormous breasts fleetingly, making me feel more excited every second. "It's not fair that only you get to have fun with your girl, son."

Considering the stare he's giving me, my son's not sure of where I'm going with this.

"If you're out there with her, having a good time, why shouldn't I have my own?" I ask him, trying to make the proposition sound as normal as possible. "Maybe I'll give Mario a call," I explain, knowing full well that I have a better boy who could satisfy me way more than that bald guy.

My words fall like drops of cold rain on Jason's heart, and his face suddenly turns pale. His expression of pure adoration vanishes and is replaced by a confused and annoyed one.

"Mom... But... You said-"

"I said I wouldn't date him as long as you spent time with me. Which means that, when you're not here with me, I'll have to go out with him, honey" I explain, still touching his cheek, and looking at him with a fake smile on my face, but inside, my heart is pounding wildly. "You can't have it all, baby."

"But Mom... It's not fair," he whines, and he looks almost angry now. That's exactly how I expected him to feel.

"Fair? Fair for who? It seems pretty fair to me. You'll be able to go out with the girl you like, and I'll be able to go out with a very nice man," I say, and then, even though I feel guilty for using his feelings for Amanda against him, I try to explain my thinking to him. "Honey, Mario's a good guy. You'll have to admit that, even though you don't like him for some reason. I mean, he's a few years younger than me, and he's good-looking and..."

"But... But..." he mumbles, his face turning sad, and his eyes staring at the floor, unable to look at me right now, even though he's still looking for the right words to argue with me.

"That's the deal, sweetie," I tell him, and then my hand goes down his arm again, until it reaches his hand. My son is too naïve to know what's going to happen, and he lets me take his hand, and hold it tightly in mine. "You can say no if you don't like it," I whisper, squeezing his hand softly, and then rubbing it between my fingers, trying to comfort him a bit. "But you wouldn't be able to ask that girl on a date."

"No, Mom... I want to go out with her" he finally says, and his voice is trembling now. "It's just... I don't want you dating him."

Now he knows how it feels for me to see him going out with that little bitch.

"It's not your decision, Jason," I say, trying not to sound harsh, but not wanting to make it look like a compromise either, and making sure he understands the importance of what's going on. "It's a deal, Jason. If you want me to agree to let you go out with her, then you'll have to accept this little request of mine."

My boy sighs deeply, his gaze returns to me, and he stares into my eyes, with the same look of devotion that was on his face before.

"Okay, Mom," he finally says, but his voice is calmer and there's a sense of determination in it like he's convincing himself he has no choice but to accept it.

"Good," I say, and I kiss him on his forehead and squeeze his hand. "You're such a wonderful son. You know how much your mom loves you, right?"

I'm not a good person.

"I love you too, Mom," he says, and gives a squeeze back, holding my hand gently and affectionately, like the good son he is.

"I'll let you go out with her then," I tell him. "But… Now that I think about it, that thing you said about cleaning the bathroom... I reconsidered. I'll take advantage of that proposal, sweetie."

"The bathroom? Oh, come on, Mom..." He protests, and then he starts laughing. "I think it's enough torture to accept you going out with Mario."

I let a giggle escape my throat. "Don't be such a brat. You're fourteen, sweetheart. It's time to learn how to take care of the house. I'm sure it won't hurt to help your mother a bit with the house chores, right?"

"Yeah, right, whatever," he chuckles, and gives me a comprehensive gaze with his alluring big, blue eyes. "I guess you do a lot for me too, Mom."

"You bet I do" I tease him, and we both laugh at that, knowing what he meant by saying that.

Maybe I'm right when I tell myself I'm not a good person, but I'm the best mother my son could ever wish for.

"Speaking of which," I say, my fingers leaving his hand, and my palm sliding down his arm until it reaches his hip, and then slides down his side and rests on his still-soft bulge. "You've been such a good boy today, sweetie... You cleaned the dishes, you accepted all my little conditions, and now you're promising to keep helping me with the housework" I explain, taking his crotch in my hand and fondling it a little, making my son's skin get goosebumps, and a moan escapes his throat as my fingers wrap around his cock, still hidden inside his pants. "I think you deserve that I continue to do a lot for you, as you said."

I push his back towards the couch. "You... You don't have to, Mom," he protests, clearly not meaning his words.

"Oh, but I do, baby. How many times have you said that in the last couple of weeks?" I tease him, unzipping his pants and revealing his bulge and the green color of his underwear, to then stick my greedy hand in there.

"Too many times, Mom," he whines, and I can't help but smile devilishly when I notice his shy but playful tone of voice.

"And how many times did you mean it? I mean, really meant it," I push the waistband of his green shorts down and he voluntarily lifts up his butt to let me reveal his member. Jason's dick is half-hard, but it's getting stiff quickly, now completely uncovered, standing proudly next to me, all shiny and beautiful. I love watching it, observing it, and the thought of jerking him off is exciting me even more, like it does every time. "Be honest."

"Not that many, Mom," he answers, his eyes looking directly at mine, and his breathing is getting faster and shallower.

"You can't fool me, baby," I purr, grabbing his member with my right hand. "I know when you really mean it, and when you're just trying to be a good boy," I explain, and starting to move my fingers along its length at the same time my other hand finds its way inside his shirt and begins to caress his chest gently. "And now you're just trying to be a good boy."

He looks at me, but he says nothing as his member growth in my hand is caused by the motherly massage I'm giving to it.

"Did you touch yourself today, sweetie?"

He shakes his head, and I chuckle, continuing to stroke his shaft while I caress his firm pecs.

"Why not? I wasn't here, you could've done it. I won't get mad if you confess," I tell him.

He shakes his head again. "I... I didn't."

"I know you're telling me the truth, baby," I say, and a mischievous grin appears on my face. "But why? Is it because you preferred to wait for me to do it? Because you know how much better my hands feel on your dick than yours?" I tease him, rubbing my sweater-covered boobs against his side, and the expression on his face is enough to tell me that I've got it right. "My sweet boy," I say, and then I kiss him on his lips softly, letting my tongue sneak inside his mouth and explore it for a moment. "That's so cute," I whisper, breaking the kiss and then giggling at him. "My young, strong man, who loves his mom's touch so much that he needs to wait for her all day."

His cockhead seems eager to feel my fingertips, so I rub it all around, making him shudder and groan softly, and his eyes roll back as his body shakes lightly, his hand reaching for my back and his fingers digging into my sweater.

"Mom... Oh, fuck..." He whimpers, his sweet voice begging me to keep my loving attitude.

"Language, sweetie," I scold him naughtily. I place my thumb over the tip of his penis, kneading it lightly, making him squirm and sigh softly again.

"Sorry, Mom," he apologizes, and I kiss him again, pushing my tongue into his mouth and feeling his saliva on his lips.

I grab his member with my fingers again and start moving them up and down the shaft, making my hand travel along its length, and then starting again at the top, my index finger tracing the outline of his glans, and then stopping to play with it.

My son's hands move to my back, and they rest on the hem of my shirt. He's looking at me, probably wanting to ask permission to touch my skin, so I decide to be nice to him.

"You can touch me, baby," I purr, and the shy, open mouth on his face is so cute that it makes me giggle and feel like the happiest woman in the world right now.

His fingers slowly travel up my spine, they move under the fabric, exploring the surface of my skin, surrounding me until they touch the side of my breasts. His hand stops at the lower end of the cup of my bra and then moves up, down, and then up one more time, repeating the pattern again and again.

"Keep going, sweetie," I command. Jason doesn't take his eyes off me as his hand keeps moving on its own, touching me through the fabric of my bra. The lewd sensation of wetness in my panties is so overwhelming that I want to touch myself while I jerk his impossibly young dick.

"Your skin feels so good, Mom," he says, making his voice like a mix of his own pleasure and the satisfaction he feels for making his mom happy. That's more than enough for me to start rubbing his cock harder, and faster, making him close his eyes and move his head backward.

"Your hands feel so good on my skin, too, baby," I purr, and he's getting so excited that his hips are moving, trying to match the pace of my fingers.

"Mom, I..." He tries to say, and my slit is getting moister as I see him trying to find the right words to tell me he's nearly cumming.

"Wait, let's do something," I say, interrupting him, and slowing down the movement of my fingers. I fall onto my back on the sofa, and I point between my open legs. "Sit here, rest your back on me, sweetie. Let me feel you between my arms."

My son doesn't hesitate, and he quickly sits on the little space between my thighs. I take his shirt off to immediately throw it behind the sofa, letting my left arm wrap around his side, just below his armpit, while my right hand goes down between his legs, holding his penis and stroking it slowly so I can see it over Jason's shoulder. My other hand explores his chest and torso with its fingertips, causing him to shiver, and making him groan as his back rests on my tits and his face rests beside my neck.

"This is perfect, isn't it, baby?" I whisper into his ear before licking the shell of it teasingly, and feeling his member twitch in my hand as a soft moan escapes his little mouth. "I love having you here, sweetie. Do you like having your mom's arms around you? Making you feel safe?" I ask him, kissing his ear. I see him look down at my left hand on his chest and the other one stroking his cock. My matured hand with long, manicured fingernails, gripping his delicate, immature, and precious manhood. "Making you feel loved? Taken care of? Isn't that how you like to feel when you're with your mom?"

"Mom..." he whimpers, and his breathing is already so fast that I can't believe he's not already panting and gasping in pleasure. I can feel his dick growing hard in my fingers, and his shaft throbbing under my touch as it hardens.

"Cum in my hand, sweetie," I whisper into his ear again, and he nods in response, probably not able to talk back or find the right words to articulate the sensations my body is making him feel. "Just give it to me, baby. Do it."

He groans, his face resting in the crook of my neck. Then, my son places his left hand on top of mine and intertwines his fingers with my own. As my other hand keeps stroking his member, he uses his right hand to grab my arm, holding me close to him. His groans quickly turn more frequent and louder, and his dick starts leaking an insane amount of foamy pre-cum, which I spread over his cock, using it as lubrication to jerk him off faster, almost aggressively.

He grabs my arm harder, making my grip on his cock even tighter, almost painfully, but it doesn't bother him at all, just making him moan louder and louder.

"Mom, I'm..." He moans, and a wave of satisfaction runs through my body as I realize he's about to cum.

"That's it, sweetie" I moan, and then I whisper into his ear again. "I want to see my hand covered in my son's warm, creamy cum" I lick his earlobe with the tip of my tongue. His muscles tense, his legs quiver, and a deep, long, and loud groan fills the room, before turning into a series of short, weak gasps and whimpers.

My hand keeps moving tight around his erection when I dig my nails deeply into his chest. His legs shake suddenly, and with his eyes closed, the rock-hard dick starts pulsating. Just like that, a jet of white, thick, creamy cum squirts out of the tip and spreads all over his pubic area, his belly, and his thighs, some drops landing on the sofa and on his pants too.

However, when his beautiful, veiny penis keeps squirting more and more of his cum, most of it lands on my fingers and my palm, while some more drops escape and run down the length of his shaft and my wrist, leaving trails of cum behind on both of our skins.

He trembles as his orgasm fades, and the last drops of his seed squirt out of his slit. My hand stops a little, kneading his glans, squeezing it to make sure every last drop of his juice comes out.

"My, my, Jason," I'm looking at his raunchy crotch area. "What a mess you've made, baby," I conclude, caressing his softening cock with my hand.

Our left hands are still holding each other, but now his fingers are more relaxed with mine, and his muscles have stopped trembling and shaking after a few seconds. His eyes are closed, and he's resting on my chest, breathing deeply as the back of his head is now resting on my shoulder.

My baby is so cute when he's trying to recover from the pleasure his mom has just given him.

"It's a beautiful mess, though," I say, feeling my hand covered in his warm, creamy jizz, and keeping his dick in my grip. I can't help but stare with fascination at the pretty, slimy, white fluid covering both my hand and his pink, soft, deflated shaft.

The teenage boy is trying to regain his breath as his head rests on my shoulder. "Mom... Wow... I thought..." He pauses, and then looks at me. "I thought it would take a little longer. But you... You're too good. Too much better than my hand."

"You're making me blush, Jason," I giggle. "I'm talented, I'll give you that. But I think it's my motherly love that takes me to new heights, don't you think?"

"Mom, stop... That's weird, you saying that," he protests, looking away from me and rolling his eyes.

I chuckle, giving him a kiss on his neck.

"Hey, I'm not a good mother if I can't make my baby boy feel good, right? Also, you seem to feel more uncomfortable when I say the nice stuff than when my hands are on this," I say, shaking his member a little.

He looks back at me, a playful smirk appearing on his face. "It's so annoying how you're always right," he says.

"I'm used to that," I reply, and then I break into laughter. Jason starts chuckling too, and, without even thinking about it, I give him a kiss with all the passion I feel for him. His kisses are still shy, and inexperienced, but they've become less awkward and nervous the more often we kiss, and the more passionately we do it. When our tongues finally pull apart, we stare at each other for a moment, our faces close and our hearts beating in our chests. "So... Ready for a back-to-back?" I ask him, and he looks at me, knowing exactly what I'm talking about.

'Back-to-back' is the name I've given to two-round masturbating sessions I perform with my son. I guess I could've called it 'two in a row' or something like that, but I was feeling creative when that name came to my mind, and it sounds much cooler for a boy as young as him.

And there's one something about the back-to-back routine that I love about it. And that is the alluring smell of the boy's sticky, musky seed. I don't know why it turns me on so much, but the smell of my son's jism is like a drug to me, and the moment I catch a whiff of it, my pussy starts twitching like a junkie, begging for a fix.

"I don't think I can, Mom," he says, looking at me with his big, innocent eyes.

"I'm sure I can make you hard again, sweetie," I purr, pressing my fingertips on his limp dick, and moving it around a little, making him squirm. "I know how horny you get when you see my hand all sticky with your swimmers," I whisper into his ear, and then kiss it, while I rub his still-soft member. "I mean, you came so much… I guess it'd be an insult to your mom's talents if I can't get it hard again, right?"

I lick his earlobe, which causes him to shudder, a whimper coming out of his mouth as his muscles tighten. Jason's dick starts getting harder in my fingers, and I react with a big smile, moving my fingers again, going up and down the length of his shaft, spreading the warm, sticky liquid that covers his member all over it, making him rock-hard again with his red tip. My hand and his cock gleam with the same substance that was sprayed from it.

"You can't get enough of this, can you?" I tease him, making a small chuckle escape his throat.

"Sorry, Mom, but you're just... Oh, fuck..." He whimpers, closing his eyes, and relaxing his back, even if his sensitive skin is giving him some trouble. "Do you... Really want to keep going like this?"

"You'll never know how much, baby," I purr, holding his jaw with my other hand, and making him turn his face to mine so I can keep kissing him.

My lips are once again pressed against his, and my tongue invades his mouth like a conqueror. Then, I move my mouth down, kissing and licking his chin, his neck, and his cheek, making him giggle softly. "Looks like you want to eat me," he teases, when a soft laugh escapes my throat as I'm kissing his neck and shoulder.

Oh, God. I guess he's becoming a little bit more confident with the dirty talk, isn't he?

I pull away just enough to be able to talk. "Oh, I do, Jason," I whisper, staring at him like I'm going to devour him, and the naughty smile on my face tells him exactly what I mean by that. "I'm always hungry for my son's sweet kisses and love."

His eyes wander across my face and we just stare into each other's eyes. My hand is gentler with his genital organ this time, as now I'm not in any rush. However, I'm loving the way he's looking at me now, not as lustfully as before, but as if I were the most beautiful creature in the world.

My lips part, and his eyes follow the movement, his gaze shifting between them and my eyes. I know what he's thinking, and feeling, and it makes my heart flutter in my chest.

I'm a terrible person, aren't I?

My hand stops moving for a moment as our lips give love to each other, but then it resumes its work on teenage manhood, and the kiss grows deeper and wilder, my tongue exploring his mouth and my hand jerking his cock with slow, tender, but firm, movements.

"Mom..." He mumbles while kissing. It's almost like he's saying some prayer, but his mouth is so occupied with the kiss that it's a little hard to understand him when he pronounces his sacred word.

"Shhhh... Just let Mom take care of you" I mutter, breaking the kiss, and licking his lower lip, which takes him to the edge in my arms.

My fingers stroke the glans of his cock, and his body tenses again as a wave of pleasure hits him. His hands hold my arms again, not to pull them away from his cock, but rather to bring them closer to him, like he doesn't want me to ever break our embrace.

My other hand is holding his cheek, and caressing it gently, and the sight of his body surrendering to me while he's moaning, whimpering, and breathing faster is enough for me to want to shove his head down my panties and let him eat me out until he passes out.

But I go on, focusing on the pleasure I can give him. My fingers dance on his dick, tracing the shape of its glans, rubbing his slit, and caressing the underside of the shaft. His muscles are tight, and his penis is ready to explode. "You're almost there, sweetie," I whisper. "Almost there. Are you going to-"

I'm interrupted by the sensation of his penis throbbing hard in my hand, and the warm ropes of white fluid starting to shoot out of the tip again. "Mom..." he prays again, with a hint of pure joy mixed with desperation, that only comes out when he's ejaculating for his mom.

I make him kiss me again, and he's eager to comply, letting my tongue find its way into his mouth. I smile again against his mouth since I can feel that our connected mouths are bringing him immense amounts of pleasure, as his jism squirts out of his cock in strong, warm bursts, covering my fingers, his crotch, and his thighs once again. However, my eyes are too busy staring at my beautiful blue-eyed son, with his handsome, pleasured face, whose genes cannot be denied.

"You're cumming so much... Again..." I purr, and his eyes roll back into his head.

My middle-aged fingers carefully milk the sore penis again, just like five minutes before this moment, and his muscles tense one last time before going completely limp. His eyes open for a moment, looking at me, and the first thing he says is a whispered "Mom" in a low voice, barely audible, but enough to make my heart bomb.

My hand is aching, exhausted from the constant effort, but it feels like the perfect and necessary consequence of loving my son this much.

"And that's another back-to-back... I lost count of how many times you've done it in the past week" I state.

I look at my hand again, surprised at the accumulated amount of his cum that's covering it, with my fingernails coated with it, and most of his glans and the base of his member because of the little puddle of it that's formed between my hand and his skin.

I raise my hand, and the strings of his cum are stretching between my fingers and his penis, like a long, thin web. Then I bring it closer to his face, ready to tease him a little bit. "Wanna taste it?"

Jason turns his face away abruptly. "Ew, Mom! That's gross!" He protests, and I can't help but laugh loudly at his much-adolescent reaction.

"What's wrong with that? It's just your own thing, baby" I chuckle. "Don't tell me you've never done it."

"What do you mean? Taste that?! Of course not!" He says, looking at me, his eyes wide open, and his expression showing that he can't believe his mom would suggest that. "That's just disgusting!"

"Come on, grow up! It's not that bad, honey. Aren't you curious? I guess at least you've gotten a whiff of it, right?" I ask, playing with the thick strands of cum still connected to his cock, and then breaking the line of the cum that's been stretching between my fingers and his dick.

He shakes his head again. "Nope."

I can't believe he's never smelled his own cum. He must be lying. It's the first chapter in the book of human curiosity.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask, my eyes fixed on him, and he doesn't hesitate to shake his head again. He's telling the truth. "Do it. Smell it."

He looks at me, and then at my hand, and then back at me. "Mom... Come on."

"Sweetie, don't be such a prude. This ain't disgusting at all, I swear. It's just some of your most essential bodily fluids, and... It's..." I want to say something sexy, but I'm not sure what the right words to say are, but since he seems so disgusted, I play it conservatively. "It's yours," I explain, and then I move my fingers closer to his face. "Smell it."

He looks away and then again at my hand, and I can see the conflict in his eyes, but after a few seconds, he sighs and gives up. "Fine" he mumbles, and then he slowly approaches his face towards my fingers, and opens his nostrils wide.

I'm trying my best not to laugh, but I can't help it, watching his childish, awkward face, his ears and cheeks turning red, and his nose sniffing a bunch of sperm in his mother's hand. Soon, my shoulders are shaking as a soft giggle escapes my mouth when I see his disgusted expression.

"Mom, this is horrible," he says, his face still close to my hand.

"It isn't! It's a strong scent, I'll give you that, but it's not bad at all" I explain, still giggling, but the laughter slowly dies down, and his expression changes from disgusted to puzzled when I bring it to my own nose.

"Mom! Don't!" He protests, but he's too late.

"Hmmm..." I say, and I have to disagree with him. "It smells amazing."

"Are you serious? It smells like shit, Mom!" He says, and a shocked expression appears on his face, his wide open as if he's about to jump away from me.

"You're so silly, Jason, sweetie. It's your own thing, how can you say that? I love it!" I say. He looks shocked when a second later there's no hesitation in my licking my own index finger, which is the one with the biggest amount of his sperm on it.

His eyebrows arch, and he stares at me confused. "What are you doing?!"

"Licking my baby's seed" I reply, like it's the most natural thing in the world, and his face turns pale again. "What? Is that a problem? It's not the first time either..." I confess.

"What? But I've never seen you..."

"You were asleep" I explain, and then I lick my index finger again, and swallow the thick amount of semen in my hand. It tastes just good, pure. Slightly salty, a little musky, and with a hint of sweet and acidity. "At least, you were the first time."

He doesn't respond, but his cheeks turn bright red, and he's looking at me like I've gone crazy or something.

"Do you really like doing that?" He asks, and I nod, still savoring the taste in my mouth, and licking my finger slowly and deliberately, not taking my eyes off him.

"I do, sweetie, I love it. Why?"

"I... I don't know," he mumbles, and his eyes are looking into my mouth. "I guess it's weird... I thought women found it gross. I thought they do it because they want to please men or something..."

"Some do it for that reason, and some do it because they enjoy it," I explain, still licking the cum off my middle finger, and swallowing it.

"You do it because you enjoy it?" He asks me.

I smile at him. "Isn't it obvious?" I reply, and then I suck the cum off my ring finger.

"Do you… Do you like it because... Is it because it's mine or...?" He asks, and I smile wider at him.

He's just still so innocent and cute when he talks about the dirtiest things.

"To be honest, I've always enjoyed it, baby," I explain, and I lick the cum off my palm now. "But yours... Your stuff is something else," I grin with a deep, sensual giggle.

My boy's curious gaze is stuck on my mouth, watching me intently as I lick and suck every single drop of his juice off my skin. "Really? Like, why?"

"I don't know... There's just something special about it. Something that makes it taste better than others," I lick the cum off the back of my hand.

I move my hand to his penis to collect the remaining cum, and smear it all over the head of his cock, and then I let him watch as I lick the traces of the white liquid that's on my hand, and I deposit all I've gathered inside my mouth for the last time.

"Do you want to know why?" I ask him, and he's looking at me with his wide, amazed eyes. "Because it's yours, baby," I purr, and then kiss him a peck on his lips. "It's my son who's producing this delicious substance for me, sweetie. It's something I can never get tired of tasting."

He doesn't say anything for some seconds, staring at his wicked mom carefully. Then, he laughs suddenly, and then his expression changes to a playful one, his blue eyes are sparkling with amusement.

"What?" I ask him, a little confused by his sudden change in mood.

"Mom... You're a little weird," he finally states.

My lips form a confirming smile as a gentle laughter escapes my throat. The gaze I give him, out of the corner of my eye, is accompanied by a playful wink he probably won't even notice.

"Oh, baby, you don't know half of it yet."

Chapter 10: Two Dates and A Change of Heart

Notes:

Apologies for the delay! This month has been complicated, and this chapter and the next one (chapters 10 and 11) are crucial for the rest of the story. As you know, I love to write a slow-paced story, where the characters' emotions are paramount. There's no sex without emotion. Especially in a relationship like this one. And I mean any type of emotion, since most of the time, what matters the most is what happens in our minds and our hearts.

I can only tell you how hard it's been - and how much I've enjoyed it equally - to write the next two chapters.

The next one will arrive on the 30th of this month. I promise.

See you!

Chapter Text

The steak on my plate looks tasty. The restaurant is pretty fancy as well, and it has an old-fashioned feel, with dark wood panels on the walls and lots of paintings. The decor and the atmosphere are a little weird in a way that makes me feel like it comes from another time. However, it's classy, charming, and given the reputation of the restaurant and the quality of the dishes they cook, it's hard not to love it once you're in the vibe.

But I'm not exactly in the vibe today.

"I thought you wouldn't ever call me after last time," he says, and my eyes are drawn to him all of a sudden.

"Why would you believe that?"

"Because, as far as I know, that was the last date you gave me," he explains, with a disappointed smile on his face. "You kicked me out of your house so… Abruptly. I thought I messed up or something."

I laugh, letting a casual shrug form on my shoulders. "No, of course not. You didn't, I told you that day. My son got ill, that's all."

"Then why didn't you call?" He says.

Now, that sounds like a serious reproach.

"I've been busy," I explain.

Mario, the man sitting in front of me, is dressed in an elegant, sophisticated way. He's wearing a light, gray shirt and black trousers. He has a short, neatly-trimmed beard on his face that always looks hot on a man.

I'm wearing a long dress, which shows off my cleavage just enough to attract his attention, even though it looks like today my rack isn't going to prevent his passive-aggressive mood against me.

"With your son, right?" He asks, and I roll my eyes.

"Yes, with my son. Is that a problem for you?" I'm sick of his attitude. "Why are you acting like an asshole all of a sudden?" I ask him, and the way his eyebrows arch a little is funny, showing his intimidated surprise at my blunt words.

"I'm not... Acting like an asshole. You've been ignoring my calls. That's all," he says, and I can tell that, even though he's being completely honest, he's feeling a bit guilty for talking to me that way.

"So? What am I supposed to say? 'Sorry I didn't answer your calls'? Is that what you want?" I ask, and he shrugs, with a guilty, defeated smile appearing on his face.

"No, I don't want you to apologize, Samantha. That's not what I said. I'm just surprised that you've been avoiding me for over two weeks. An explanation would be fine."

It's not his business to question my actions.

"I've been busy. I told you," I repeat, but the truth is that he's right, and I've been ignoring him for two weeks straight.

I take my phone out of my purse and pretend to check the time, and then I put it back and look at him.

"Listen, I'm sorry if I... If I made you feel uncomfortable or something," he apologizes, and that's enough for me to finally lose the angry look I've been giving him all this time.

"I'm sorry too. I was taking care of so much stuff. Work, Jason, the house," I tell him. "That's why I didn't have time for you," I try to sound convincing when the man's face lights up in response.

"It's okay. I get it," he smiles. "I guess we should start over, and pretend I haven't been an asshole," he suggests, and that's enough for me to sigh, relieved, and offer him a fake smile.

I admit maybe I'm a little short-tempered and grumpy, but that's just because of what's happening somewhere else in this town, between two fourteen-year-olds ready to explore their own feelings.

What if that girl has already put her hands on him?

I take a sip of the wine that was on the table and then look at Mario. "Yes, we should."

"Well, I'm glad to see you're in a better mood now," he says.

Men... And their oddness when a woman shows some character. I wonder how they manage to rule the world when they can't even understand basic female communication. It's funny, actually. I guess that's why I find Jason so easy to handle; because he's used to me being the one handling things. He'll never question my mood or the way I act, as he already knows how stubborn and bitchy I can be when someone else defies me.

"Yeah, yeah," I say, dismissively. "I need to go to the bathroom," I say, standing up and leaving the napkin I've used to dry my mouth from the wine. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Sure," he replies, and I walk towards the ladies' room, which is located down a narrow, long hallway.

As soon as I'm inside, I go to one of the stalls, lock myself inside and sit down. I take my cell phone out of my purse and make a call. It only takes a second for the person on the other side to pick up, as I expected since I told him to stay attentive to the phone.

"Mom?"

"Hi, baby," I say, and my lips curl into a smile when I hear his voice. "How's it going? Are you having a good time?"

Of course, he's having a good time. He's on a date, with a girl who clearly likes him, and she's probably trying to seduce him right now. How could he not be having a good time?

"Yes, Mom," he replies, his voice sweet as honey. "All good. She's cool. She's showing me her Minecraft world."

I have no clue what he's talking about.

"I see. And... Is she treating you well?"

"Well? Yes, Mom. She's been super nice. She bought me ice cream earlier," he says, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the top of the stall, as I stare at the ceiling. "How about you and Mario?"

I sigh, letting out all the anger and frustration I felt when the words escaped his mouth. "Great!" I lie, with a cheerful voice.

"Really? That's awesome, Mom. I'm happy for you," he says in a kind of neutral tone.

I pretend a chuckle. "So, you're at her house, right? Are her parents there?"

"Yeah, Mom, and they're both so cool. Her parents are in the kitchen, cooking dinner right now. Charlie is in his room, doing something on his computer, I think," I guess Charlie is the girl's brother. He's a few years older than her. "So, yeah, they're all being pretty nice to me," he explains, and I sigh, trying to contain my anxiety.

"And where are you?" I mumble.

"We're in her room. She's got one of those really nice gaming PCs," my son says, and I can almost see the grin on his face, as his excited voice betrays his joy.

I'm going to throw up.

"That's cool," I manage to say, forcing myself not to whine.

"I should hang up, Mom," he says. "She wants to show me something."

She wants to show him something... I hope it isn't what I think it is.

"Okay, but remember our agreement. I want you home at 10 PM" I know I'm being a cold-hearted bitch, but it's hard not to when it comes to him.

"I know, Mom. You said that before, I remember. And I'll be careful. You know me, I won't break the rules, so relax. Everything will be okay," he says.

He's right. I know him, and I know he's a good boy, but at the same time, I also know this girl's intentions aren't as pure as my son thinks they are. She's trying to steal him from me, and every second I spend on this conversation is making me go insane with that feeling.

"Just be careful, okay?" I demand, my voice sounding harsh, even for me.

"Yeah, Mom, I promise. 10 PM" he repeats.

"I love you, sweetie," I say, trying not to sound too stressed out.

"I love you too, Mom. See ya."

I end the call, and then press my forehead against the tile wall of the stall, struggling not to scream and yell in frustration. I rub my face with both hands, and then I stand up, leave the stall, and walk towards the sink. I look at myself in the mirror and start splashing my face with cold water, knowing I could screw my makeup.

I can't believe I agreed to this.

How can I be this stupid? How couldn't I see this coming? The way I'd be feeling? Am I as strong as I thought I was?

I should never have let him go on that date. I should've kept him locked and chained inside my house forever, as I planned in the first place. I shouldn't have been so irresponsible and I surely should've known that someday my son would become a young, handsome, attractive, and smart boy that girls would kill to make him fall in love with them.

And how can I blame them? How could I expect those girls to resist him? Even I can't, and he's my son.

My own son, who has the biggest heart in the world, and the warmest, most caring spirit, is now out there on a date with a girl, and I can't stop myself from thinking about all the things that girl is going to do with him, the things she's wants to do to him.

The things a teenage girlfriend would do.

It's not that I'm jealous. I'm not. I'm more than jealous, in fact. I'm sickly envious. I'm so envious that, if I could, I'd burn that bitch's house down with her inside. Or maybe I'd cut her hands off. Or anything, just to stop her from getting near him.

All I do is think of him.

The image of my beautiful, sweet, loving Jason having fun with that bitch keeps haunting me.

My sweet little Jason, so adorable and precious, with his cute, athletic body, so tender and warm when I touch it with my fingertips the always insufficient moments we're alone. His sweet lips are the ones I need, even if sometimes they look hesitant when they brush against mine. And the skilled tongue that gives me such heavenly, precious kisses is also the one my son hides inside his mouth. And what about his hands? His young, lithe, sensitive hands, always so clever with their touch on my flesh, and so gentle and soft with every inch of my body. Even his sweet voice becomes naughty and erotic when he whispers and moans mumbling 'Mom' in his most sensual moments.

And that's exactly how it should be.

He should be mine, right? He belongs to me, and it's been like that his whole life. How dare that stupid, little slut tries to take him from me? Why does it hurt that much, when he suggests he should have anyone else besides me? I know it's a sick thing to think, but it's not really a thought. It's a feeling; feelings are not supposed to be rational, are they? He shouldn't want not another girl or woman. Just me: his mother.

Only me.

But I don't deserve him, do I? I know I don't.

"I'm an awful person," I tell myself.

With my hands still wet with water, I wash my face and splash myself a few times again, as if water was to clear my thoughts and feelings at the same time. Even if I try not to cry, it seems impossible right now, and the little, isolated tears start filling my eyes, quickly running down my cheeks timidly, mixing with the water I'm using to wash my face.

"Oh, God," I whisper, trying to clean them as soon as possible. "You're so weak, Samantha. So fucking weak," I say, wiping the drops away with my fingers. "You're pathetic."

The unexpected feeling of remorse comes back to me after some weeks of peace in my brain. How can I be so selfish? How can I feel this way while he's on a date right now, enjoying himself, doing the things he should be doing at his age? He's growing up, and what kind of mother would I be if I didn't let him grow, learn, and experience new things?

"You're an awful mother," I whisper to the woman who stands in the mirror.

I've become so evil, so obsessed with this perverted new life here with my son, that I'm slowly losing my mind. I've turned into a monster, and he doesn't have any clue. He doesn't know the vile, cruel ideas that go through my brain when I think about his unprofaned cock and his sweet, tender kisses. He doesn't know the real me, and yet, he's still willing to obey every single word I say.

I'm going insane, and he has no idea.

How can I be so wicked, so... Wrong? How can I be like this, and still have someone as pure, as innocent and sweet as him? How is it even possible that such a sinful woman was blessed with the love of a child who's so perfect, so generous that even his soul is too pure to be corrupted by the monster that is his mother?

I'm going to pay for this; for the crimes I'm committing. Yeah, at some point, God is going to punish me. He's going to come for me, and he's going to destroy everything I love: my beautiful son, my house, and my life.

But not today, I hope.

"Samantha?" I hear Mario's voice coming from the other side of the door, and it's enough for me to jump, startled, and I stop crying right away, realizing I've been here for more than twenty minutes.

I can't let him see me like this. I'm tough, I'm strong, and he won't see me crying.

My body regains composure as my internal speech takes over me. I look at myself in the mirror again, ready to fix my makeup while evil thoughts cross my mind again. My eyes turn dark, and the reflection of a devilish, wicked woman is staring back at me.

Why should I hide behind this mask of a sweet, lovely lady? Where has that fake, stupid behavior taken me? That's not me, and it's never been me. Maybe it's time to learn how to accept myself again. To take back that woman who knows what she wants, and doesn't fear to put anyone down who gets in her way.

Maybe it's time to be the real Samantha Matthews again.

I've always always been the one who makes things happen. A selfish creature, but successful in whatever I do. For years, I've been like a dormant volcano, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to wake up. And now that I have what's mine, what I've created with my own hands like a painting from scratch, I won't let anything take it away from me.

"Not today," I repeat whispering to the woman in the mirror, my hands washing her face, just before aiming my voice to the door. "I'm coming," I manage to say loudly, so Mario can hear me, trying to sound like nothing happened. "Gimme one minute."

I finish washing my face and pick up the eyeliner pen that's in my purse. Then, I apply it on the rims of my eyes, making sure I'm still looking flawless, and not like an emotional wreck. Once I'm satisfied, I pick up my purse and walk to the bathroom door. Mario's still there when I open it, waiting for me.

"Are you okay? You look a little... Down, somehow," he says, and a laugh escapes my lips, a laugh that has a hint of sarcasm in it.

I look at him, and my eyes wander all over his face. He's a nice-looking man, but he's nothing compared to the little man living with me. Why is it that he's the only boy I'm attracted to, while there are so many gorgeous, good-looking men that I couldn't care less about? However, there's no time to think anymore, and right now, I'm the vicious twenty-something-year-old girl I was back in my time, when I was a bitchy, overconfident girl who couldn't care less about anyone's feelings. That young woman wouldn't even hesitate to destroy lives around her just to get what she wanted. She'd never allow two fourteen-year-old brats to ruin everything she's fought for.

I grab Mario by the collar of his shirt and pull us both back into the bathroom. "Close the door," I command.

He's baffled, but he does it anyway.

I push him against the wall, and this time he stumbles on his own feet when I attack him with a kiss, locking his lips in a firm embrace that catches him totally unprepared. It lasts only a second, but it's enough for the man to have the impression that his legs have suddenly turned to jelly.

"Wh-What was that?" He asks, and I look at him, my gaze fixed on his.

"I think you know what that is," I smirk.

"But... This is… We're in the bathroom, Sam," he says, and I can't help but chuckle at the way he's acting right now, almost as shy as my son.

"I don't care, Mario," I purr. "I'm tired of being a good girl. I'm not a good girl. I'm a naughty, fickle woman. And naughty girls get what they want, okay?"

His eyes are filled with shock as my fingers trace his jawline. My hand travels to his neck and grabs his tie, pulling him closer as I kiss him again, pressing his lips with a lot of faked stiff passion. He doesn't know what's happening, and his movements are rigid, barely awkward, and hesitant when I pull him inside the stall I was talking to my son a few moments back. The same stall where, minutes ago, I was almost crying about how much I was scared he was falling in love with that bitch.

I push him back against the toilet seat, and, the moment the back of his knees are touching it, I push him back again, causing him to lose balance and sit on it.

"Samantha, what the-"

"Hush," I command, and his eyes open wide as he stares at me.

I instantly sit on his legs, my knees on each side of his thighs, and I place my hands on the back of his head. "No more talking. We're going to have some fun," I purr, and he looks at me, still baffled, and unable to believe his eyes and ears.

The kiss doesn't feel bad at all, even if the growing beard he has is tickling me a little, but the way he's being so passive is almost frustrating to me.

All of a sudden, the bald man's hands find their way to my breasts, and his lips start kissing me back. My arms are still around his head, and my fingers are still holding his neck as he's now kissing me, but my eyes are closed, and my mind is lost somewhere else.

Images of my son's face appear in my mind, like lightnings inside a dark, empty sky. The memories of the many occasions my hands were on his flesh, and his erect penis throbbing under my fingers while he moaned in the most erotic ways come to my mind, and the thought of how his lips and tongue must taste right now is enough to drive me insane.

But he's with her. My baby's with that bitch right now.

My hand goes directly to Mario's hard-on, and I start massaging his crotch with his pants on. Then, I move my hand up to his belt and undo his zipper, showing how my fingers are sure and dominant as they start searching for the opening of his underwear, and I find it easily, pulling the elastic band down, and making his dick spring out, completely hard while he pushes his pants down.

I look at it with curiosity but zero fascination. It's not a particularly impressive specimen, and it looks almost tiny in a huge body like his. I can't help but compare it with the size and shape of my son's, and there's no doubt which one is more beautiful, which one is harder, and which one is a better match for me.

Unlike Jason's, this cock is fully shaved, and the lack of hair only makes it look more pathetic and insignificant to me. I can't lie, it's a bit of a turnoff.

I stand up and pull my dress up, showing my black panties to his eyes. Then, I take them down and let them fall on the floor, along with his pants.

"Condom?" I ask him, knowing a man so infatuated with me wouldn't forget to bring one.

"In the wallet," he quickly replies, and I take it out of his pants, find his wallet, and take the condom out of it, ripping the wrapper. I slide the latex glove around his member. Then, I climb over him again and start to lower myself, using his erection like a strap-on to penetrate my pussy.

He's groaning as he feels the sensation, and I can feel the tension in his thighs when he starts thrusting, but I make him stop with my hands, which are still around his head.

"Who's in charge here, Mario?" I ask, staring at him, and his eyes are fixed on mine.

"You are, Sam," he mumbles, and I nod, slowly, and with a stern face.

My cunt is almost dry, and after not having a real cock penetrating me for almost a year, the stretch of his penis feels quite uncomfortable at the beginning. However, it's enough for me to get wet a few moments later, and then it's easier for me to fuck myself on it, riding him and impaling my cunt on his tool.

It feels pleasant enough at a certain point, and that's all the pleasure I can expect from such a mediocre performance in a random bathroom stall. I begin riding him aggressively, picturing my son's face and body in my mind while I close my eyes, and hump myself on Mario's penis.

"You're fucking incredible," Mario mumbles, and his hands grab my thighs, helping me move on him.

"I know," I purr, with a devilish smile on my lips, and my eyes are still closed.

"You're such a goddess..." He continues, and then he holds my right breast after letting it out of the dress.

His hand is squeezing my left tit too, and for a second, just a second, I have this bizarre feeling, almost as if his hands and his cock are enough to satisfy me. It's weird, because the feeling isn't unpleasant or unbearable, and in fact, it's the exact opposite, but the contrast in how different it is from the extremely fulfilling sensation when Jason touches me.

That moment is gone seconds later though, and I open my eyes to look at the average man below me. He's staring at me, and his mouth is half-opened, gasping for air, and his hands are busy with the touch and caress of my body.

"I'm going to cum," he announces.

It's been... What? Five minutes? And he's already cumming?

Seems like he wants to ejaculate inside my body, and I can't allow that, even if he's wearing a condom. That's a privilege that's reserved for the chosen ones.

"Get ready," I say, and the excitement in his eyes is clear when he hears my voice.

Then, I start thrusting on him faster, his head falls back, his jaw hangs open, and his teeth are visible from under the stubble of his beard, which has become moist with sweat.

When I feel he's already there, I lift myself and grab his cock in my hand. Then, I begin jerking him off, and it doesn't take long for him to start squirting the semen out of his tool.

The warm ropes of cum are filling the plastic glove, and I can feel his jism heat the inside of the latex. My hand is still jerking him off, and his groans of pleasure are replaced by the muffled sound of his panting as the waves of ecstasy wash over him.

"Oh, God..." He mumbles. "That was so good..."

I wish I could say the same thing.

Once he's done, I take the condom off him and throw it in the toilet.

Enough.

"I'm going to get cleaned up."

He nods, still struggling to catch his breath.

I take my panties from the floor and put them on. Then, I grab the hem of the dress and fix it, and it looks like it's never been taken off or touched. I head out to the door, and his voice suddenly reaches me from inside the stall.

"Hey, Sam, er… Did you… You know, did you cum?"

What the actual fuck. Does he really not know?

Men…

What's wrong with them? A grown-ass man, who's probably had sex with many women in his life, and he needs to ask something so obvious? What kind of girls has he been with? And what kind of man can't read the mood and sense the female orgasm?

"Almost. But nope, I didn't," I reply, and his face is covered by confusion.

"Do you want me to...?" His voice is a little confused in its tone.

"No. It's okay. It doesn't matter," I say, and then walk outside the stall, picking up my purse and taking out my phone again. I look at the time, and 10 PM is just 45 minutes away.

'Do you want me to go pick you up?' I text my son.

I turn my gaze to the stall where we've just had sex, and I can't avoid feeling a little disappointed with what just happened. I can't believe I just let a guy fuck me in a public bathroom, even if the possibility that someone was near was very, very low. It wasn't even that great. For fuck's sake, I thought it would feel good, but it was barely mediocre.

Not to mention the sense of betrayal I'm feeling inside me, the disgust, and the uneasiness that rests in my heart, considering I kind of cheated on my son.

'Ok, ty, mom :)' He replies after a minute, and then, the time starts ticking by like crazy, and the seconds feel like hours.

"Let's go," I say, and Mario walks out of the stall, buttoning his pants, and looking at me with a guilty look. "Listen, can you take me pick my son up?"

"Uhm? Yeah, sure," he says, and I grab his hand, walking outside the bathroom with a huge, but false grin on my face.

Mario drives the narrow, quiet streets leading us out onto an empty road toward the Clarks' house.

There's something about men that I find hilarious and pathetic at the same time. You can force a man into the bathroom, make him cum in five minutes, and take advantage of him in many ways for the sake of some stupid, petty revenge, but he'll still thank you for the pleasure you gave him.

He'll still feel grateful for having the chance to be the toy of a woman for a while. And then, when the helpless girl asks him to take her somewhere in his car – because, of course, men love to drive – he'll think he has her eating out of his hand.

I can tell that, in this case, it's quite the opposite.

I'm in a good mood, despite everything. I'm calm, relaxed, and satisfied now. As I see the street number of the Clarks' house, I'm wondering how this risky step in my twisted path is gonna turn out.

My son's right there, waiting for me on the front porch, his hands buried in his pockets, and his body leaning against the railing. He's not alone, though, a girl is standing close to him, and she looks so cool and confident that I'd love to humiliate her if her parents weren't right there too, chatting with both teenagers. The friendly, polite smile my son is offering them is so adorable that it makes my heart melt.

Mario stops the car, and I make a greeting gesture with my head at them all. They wave back, and Jason walks over to the car after sharing some words with them.

"Hi, Mom," he says, and the smile he's wearing on his face goes away when he realizes the one in front of him isn't my car. And I'm not driving it.

"Hi, sweetie."

My baby looks at the back window, and then at me, his brow furrowed. It takes him a couple of seconds to come inside, and his voice is confused and bitter when he says "Hi, Mario."

"What's up, champ," Mario replies, and Jason opens the door and sits down on the back seat.

I can see the disappointment in his eyes, and the smile of politeness on his face has been replaced by a stoic, serious expression when Mario's car starts moving.

"So, how was your date?" I ask, turning around to look at my son, and the cold, indifferent tone of his voice is the first answer.

"It was good."

"Oh, really? I'm glad," I tell my son, with a big smile on my face.

"Yes."

He's so mad. I can sense it. His cold response is enough to tell me he's upset and hurt.

The rest of the ride is silent in the backseat, while Mario and I talk in the front, casually chatting about the plans we can make for the rest of the week. During the trip, I play seductively with my nails on the man's arm and nape, giving glances at my son through the side mirror from time to time, just to see his face and the lack of enthusiasm and interest he has about the whole thing.

He's quiet, and his eyes are looking outside the window most of the time. Sometimes, his eyes go to the front seats, showing his attitude changes when he sees me flirting with the doctor.

The way he's feeling now, it's all my fault. And I now have more reasons to feel like I betrayed him, and I don't know if I can bear that sensation, but now it's too late to regret.

Go on.

"Baby, can you wait for me outside? I'd like to say goodbye to Mario," I ask my son, as we reach the entrance of my house.

"Yeah, okay," he says, and leaves the car with a heavy attitude, walking to the front yard with his back turned.

When I see he's far enough, I turn to the man on my left. "Thanks for driving us home, Mario."

"Don't mention it. That was fun," he says, showing a big smile.

I stare at him, and then I move closer carefully. "Aren't you gonna kiss me?" I purr, and he's clearly surprised by my words.

"I thought... Well, your son's there waiting for you. Are you sure?" He asks hesitantly, and I giggle in response.

"Oh, dear," I mumble, leaning even more, grabbing his face with both hands to kiss him.

Our mouths don't exactly melt together, but our tongues explore the other's mouth with great eagerness. It's a long, deep, kind of passionate kiss, with a pretended desire hidden underneath its surface, and as we separate, my lips are a bit swollen from the man's growing beard.

I imagine my son out there, standing in the front yard, probably watching the scene with rage and repulsion in his eyes.

"Do you want me to come inside?" He asks, and I shake my head, a naughty smile on my face.

"That's maybe too much, big man."

"Are you doing something tomorrow?" Mario asks, and I don't need to think much before saying no.

"I don't know yet. I think Phoebe wanted to go somewhere. I'll let you know," I lie again. "I'll call you, okay?"

The bald man looks at me, and then at my son, making me turn my face to see him too, but the fourteen-year-old is looking down at the ground and not at us at the moment.

"Like last time?"

"Mario..." I groan, then slap his shoulder. "I'll call you, I promise."

"Okay," he chuckles and kisses me one last time, and I pull away.

I come out of the car, and the moment my shoes are on the grassy ground, Mario drives away, leaving me and my son alone in the front yard. My son's standing in there, looking at me, and his eyes are filled with a mix of different emotions, none of them good from what I see.

He has every right to feel that way.

Once we're in our house hall, I cross my arms under my breasts, letting him know I'm expecting him to say something. "I can see your face. Speak up."

He stands there, in front of me, and doesn't say anything, but he holds my gaze, and that's already something new when I look upset.

"Jason. Say something."

"Say what, Mom?" His cold, distanced tone is making me nervous.

"Whatever you want to say," I growl.

He shakes his head. "There's nothing I want to say."

"Bullshit, Jason. Tell me. Tell me what you're thinking," I say, my voice turning into a sharp, demanding order.

My handsome, defiant son shakes his head again, this time a bit more rudely, and the gesture is accompanied by an ironic laugh. "Really, Mom? You sure you don't know what I'm thinking?" He blurts. "What was that, exactly? You were flirting with him the entire time in his car! You were touching him and... Talking with him like you're… It was gross!" He complains, being the first time in a couple of months that I hear him talk like this to me.

At least, now he's doing it for a good cause: he's jealous.

"Yeah, and?" I just say.

"I… I saw you guys kissing!" He says aloud, with pain in his words.

The stutter in his voice and his expression are proof that the boy's starting to act like a man suddenly. A young, immature, and resentful man, but a man after all.

"And?" I ask again.

"And?! And what the fuck, Mom?" He asks, and his voice is louder and filled with anger. I'm sure if he wasn't such a coward he'd be speaking worse words against his mother.

"That's none of your business, Jason, okay? It's between me and Mario," I snap back, and his eyes open wide, and the creases of his mouth are tightened, forming a grimace. But it isn't enough, not by far. I want to make him feel the same pain and jealousy I felt in that bathroom stall. "I'm your mother, not your girlfriend. You should know the difference," I say.

Maybe I went too far with that one?

His shocked eyes fill with tears, and his lip is trembling when he looks at me. "You think I don't know that? M-Maybe I should be the one reminding you that," he asks, and his voice is breaking, and his tone is one of pure sadness.

"What?" I can almost tell that's it. This is gonna blow up.

"Do you… Do you think of me as your plaything or something? Do you not care about me anymore? Because if that's the case, please… Be clear with me, Mom. Tell me why you're doing this to me," he looks at me with a broken, wounded heart.

"What are you talking about? Of course, I care about you," I explain, and his eyebrows furrow as he stares at me, not sure if he believes me.

"Really? Because it seems to me that all you do is use me all the time. And you make me think that you care about me, and then you... You betray me. You hurt me," he says, his voice sounding raspy with the anguish and the pain he's feeling. "I never ask for anything. I've always tried to do whatever you've asked me to because I've always known it's for the best. But you're making me feel like I'm being used, and the worst part is that I don't even know what's wrong or right with you anymore! You've been acting all weird since we came here! Seems like I'm paying for all the things Dad did to you! All you do is criticize me and make me feel guilty whenever I wanna do something I like, and the minute I try to talk about Am, and make you part of my life, you get upset and start acting like you care about me! And then, the next day, you make me feel guilty for liking her and not hanging out with you, or that you feel like you're not enough for me..."

Wow.

Use him? Is he really going to play the victim role after all I've done for him? After all the sacrifices I've made? After all the things I've given up? Is this fourteen-year-old brat trying to act like a saint and pretend that his mother didn't work her ass off so that he could live the kind of life he's living right now? Is he actually acting like he's a young, innocent boy that's been mistreated by his own mother?

All I do is for him, for the love of God!

"Listen, you ungrateful little shit, you will not talk to me like that," I warn him, with my voice as harsh as I can make it. "I use you? Are you for real right now, Jason? You're the one using me! You're the one who comes to me exclusively when you need money, or food, or a ride, or someone to listen to your whining, or when you need a break from your stupid video games! You're the one who comes to my office when I'm working to tell me about your teenage, stupid problems and wants me to comfort you! You're the one who comes to my bedroom and hugs me because you need some... Fucking relief! And you aren't even brave enough to put it into words and ask for it yourself! You're the one who asks for my help every time, but you're too busy thinking about yourself to give anything back. Have you ever worried about me? Have you ever thought about my well-being? About my… My pleasure?! You only care about yourself! And then you leave me for that girl the minute you get bored!" I scream at him, and my voice is so loud that the veins in my neck are bulging, and my face is burning. Now I sure look like a monster. "You're not the one being used. I am!"

Jason stares at me, his eyes widening, and his mouth half-open, unable to understand the words coming out of my mouth. Looks like he's forgotten everything I taught him about the adult world in the last few months.

"But... That's not true," he protests. "What are you talking about?" He asks, and his eyes look like a lost cub, begging for some attention.

"You're so selfish, Jason. You're so naive and foolish that you still can't see what's happening in front of you," I say.

"What's… Happening in front of me, Mom?"

I sigh, closing my eyes, and shaking my head. "I'm talking about how you've fallen in love with your stupid, scrawny girlfriend."

"But... She's not my girlfriend," he says, and I laugh bitterly. The boy stares at me, his eyes full of confusion and fear.

"She's not your girlfriend yet, Jason. But she will be. And she's going to be my daughter-in-law. And the two of you are going to live happily ever after, and I'm going to be the miserable, sad, lonely, old hag, left behind, abandoned, and forgotten in the attic of the house, rotting."

"Mom, I... That's crazy. You don't really believe that's going to happen, right? You don't mean that, do you?" He looks genuinely terrified, confused, angry, and upset with me.

But I'm not even worried about it anymore. Have I lost the love of my life? The only person that matters? Have I lost my son?

"I'm not crazy if that's what you're saying," I snap. "I'm just tired of you. I'm tired of you and your teenage bullshit. I'm tired of the shit that comes out of your mouth, and the idiotic, immature way you see your own life. I'm tired of you and all the things you do. It's time for you to grow up."

Oddly, I can't hold back the tears that fill my eyes and threaten to ruin my makeup for the second time tonight. My head is heavy, the headache is getting worse, and it's as if all the stress from the past months was now attacking me all at once.

I'm so angry, so sad, and empty that the only thing I feel is the pain of my broken heart. He must be feeling a very similar sensation inside, as his own eyes are now filled with tears, and his chest is heaving while his face is shadowed by pain and disbelief.

My son walks a few steps backward, away from me. "So, you're going to be a bitch to me forever? Even though you know you're wrong? Even though you know that what you're doing is hurting me and that I'm your son? Are you really this selfish, or are you just pretending, Mom?"

"See? You're just proving my point, Jason," I say, pointing my index finger at him. "The only thing you care about is how you feel. And what's worst, you're so stupid that you can't see it!"

I see my son's eyes suddenly travel from confusion and pain to rage, his fists clenched tightly. His face is contorted with anger, and he looks at me with contempt in his eyes when he begins talking. "You know what?! I kissed her! I kissed her too!" He screams at me.

No.

He's bluffing.

He has to be.

"You didn't."

"Yes! And it was great!" He replies.

No. No. No. No. He's lying. He's just being childish and stupid right now, and he wants to piss me off.

"Bullshit. You're such a bad liar. Stop trying," I say, and he takes a few more steps backward, away from me. His eyes show the determination he has.

"It was. And Am liked it too," he insists, and my head is suddenly feeling dizzy, as the anger inside my chest starts to grow.

"Liar!" I scream at him, feeling betrayed and used.

"At least Am cares about me and how I feel! Unlike you, Mom!" He shouts back.

The half-smirk on his face makes me want to punch him in the face, and that's almost what I do. My palm goes to his cheek, and my fingers caress the skin for a second, before I slap him across the face as hard as I can, making him stumble, and fall on the floor.

I quickly kneel down next to him and grab his wrists, to slap his face with the palms of my hands, once or twice, while he's still on the floor, looking at me in shock, covering his face with his hands and showing tears of pain filling his eyes. "You kissed her! You kissed that dirty, ugly whore, you little, dumb piece of shit!" I scream at him and hit him on his ear this time, as it's the only part not protected by his hands.

"Please, Mom, stop! Please, stop!" He begs.

I do as he says after hitting him on his face one last time, before standing up and walking away.

"You can be sure about something, Jason," I point at his face while he's still getting up from the ground. "I hope you don't come for me next time when you need something. It can be counsel or a fucking handjob, I won't fucking care about what you'll be asking for. You're on your own, because I'm done with you," I say, and my heart is beating so fast, my pulse so intense that I can barely think. "You can ask that bitch for a ride or money, and I surely hope she'll be half the woman I am one day, but she'd have to be able to please you the way I do for that," I spit the words at him, and then I turn around and walk to the living room door.

"Mom, no, please! Let's… Let's talk!" He pleads.

"Go to your room. Or do whatever you want, I don't care anymore. I don't give a fuck," I say, and then walk out of the living room, and upstairs to my room, slamming the door shut, locking myself in.

I can still hear him screaming my name, begging me to let him in, and that's when the uncontrollable, endless almost silent cries come out of my lips, as if it was an avalanche that has taken over my body.

The rage has taken over everything and I already know I've crossed the line that separated me from being a deviant, obsessed, selfish woman, into a dangerous, manipulative monster. The deafening sadness inside me has reached another level, one that I wasn't prepared to feel. The remorse starts filling my mind, and I can almost see the look of despair and disappointment in his eyes.

And this time, it's not just me feeling that way.

I've hurt him. I've hurt my baby.

Again.

But I hate him.

And I hate her.

And I hate myself more than anyone else in the world.

Chapter 11: Christmas Holiday

Notes:

Hey there! Just like I promised, here comes the next chapter, and guess what, we've hit the 100k words mark! Big thanks to all of you for your comments and support – they're what keep me going with this newfound hobby of mine.

Sending you all a big hug :)

Chapter Text

Steve is exactly the kind of man I'd never want to date. Forty-seven, average height, not too handsome either, and a beer belly that some women would find appealing somehow.

Not me.

My brother-in-law's hairline is receding. He has a big, wide nose, and his eyes are kind of small. I guess you could say he's one of those guys who wear a very similar polo shirt every day, tight jeans, and tennis shoes. If you get close enough to him, you can smell the fragrance of tobacco in his clothes, but my sister usually says the stink isn't that bad. Not that I hate cigarettes – I used to smoke back in my twenties – but now I find the aroma sort of vulgar, too strong for my nostrils.

Everything seems middling about him, doesn't it?

Watching him necessarily reminds me of John. There's just too many memories. When we were younger, my sister and I would take our husbands on double dates sometimes, we'd even go on trips together, and John was like Steve's long-lost brother. They got on so well, it was like looking at twins, two peas in a pod, always laughing at the same shit, sharing the same taste, and being able to understand each other just by a glance.

Steve used to have a really good relationship with Jason a few years back too. He was the cool uncle role to my son, and they used to spend so much time together whenever he and my sister came to visit. It was fun to see John and Steve playing with Jason when he was little, or just hanging around. My son was always the little guy who wanted to follow in their footsteps, but the contrast in his personality with the men in our family was too much when he grew up.

Jason's different from all of them.

My mother was the most judgmental when I divorced John, but I know Steve always took his side and said it was my fault, even if he'd never tell me to my face. I bet he always talks shit about me with my sister, probably saying I was the one to blame for our divorce, that I wasn't a good wife for John. And he's probably right. I wasn't the best wife, nor I tried to be so.

Lauren, on the other hand, is the kind of person I sometimes wish I could be. She's younger than me, only forty-one, and always so happy and fun to be around. Honestly, there are times when I think my sister is better than me in many ways: she earns more, she's thinner, and she's got a great sense of humor and is super nice.

And it doesn't stop there. Her slim waist, long legs, and well-proportioned smaller boobs make her look really graceful and feminine, with almost the same height as me. And, on top of that, her body isn't ruined by the misogynistic destructiveness of giving birth. She dyes her hair blonde and has brown eyes like my dad's, and even if she's beautiful, I think my face is the only feature where I have an edge over her.

She's almost perfect.

But how could she end up with a guy like Steve, I don't know. Well, I do know, actually: their characters seem made for each other. And he makes money. That's pretty much it.

Steve's sitting next to my sister at the kitchen table, sipping a beer from a bottle as my mother Elise and I prepare lunch for everyone. It's been a few hours-long trip, and I'm hungry.

"Where's Jason? Did he not hear me?" I ask my sister and her husband, placing the plate in front of her.

"I don't know, sis," she says, while Steve doesn't answer at all.

My old man, Peter, appears in the kitchen and sits down at the table, with Steve and Lauren in front of him. He's a seventy-two-year-old wrinkled-up dude, with white hair and a sort of Chevron moustache, a little bit shorter than me, despite his broad waist and shoulders. And he loves my mother as much as the first day.

It's praiseworthy in many ways. When I was younger, I was convinced I'd never have anything close to what my parents had created together. Such commitment, devotion, and fidelity seemed like a foreign concept for a long time, and I always thought I'd never love anyone in the same way my mom and my father loved and cared for each other. And that was kind of true until I carried Jason in my belly.

Now I know my feeling for Jason is a completely different type of love. The day I realized that the love for my baby was much deeper and purer than the affection I felt for his father, was when I was certain I'd never find a connection as perfect and unique in my life, and I was right about that.

"Is he not coming down? He's going to miss lunch," my mother asks.

Elise, my mom, is just two years younger than her husband. She's tall like my sister – not as tall as me though –, a little on the skinny side, and her dyed brown hair resembles the color she once grew naturally. Her gray-blue eyes, quite the same that passed to Jason through me, are clearly her most showy trait now in her older days, but I know from the pictures, and from my own recalls, she once was a stunning beauty.

"I think he's sleeping," Peter replies, and Steve finally opens his mouth to talk for the first time.

"He's a teenager. What do you expect?"

I direct my eyes to him, my eyebrows furrowed. "You know that being a teenager isn't a disease, right?" I tell my brother-in-law, as I take another plate to place in front of the empty seat next to my father.

"I'll go wake him up," my sister gets up in a flash to walk upstairs to the room where he's sleeping. The same we'll be sharing from today until we come back home after New Year's Day.

"Are you two okay?" My mom asks, looking at me.

There's no way I could tell anyone in my family about what's happened with Jason. And of course, I'm not just referring to the now non-existing sexual side of our relationship. No, I'm thinking about the little episode where I hit him, screamed at him, and verbally abused him twenty-two days ago.

"Me and Jason? Yeah, we're fine," I reply, and my old man looks at me with an uncertain gaze in his eyes. Then his wife starts talking about something else.

Lauren appears back again after a couple of minutes, with Jason trailing behind her, sleepy and with a very long face, but a polite greeting on his lips when he sees everyone around the table. He's dressed in a gray long-sleeve shirt and blue pajama pants. Of course, the fact that we haven't touched each other for almost a month doesn't change anything in how beautiful, special, or desirable he is in my eyes.

Oh, dear Lord, I know it's not been easy for any of us two, the last couple of weeks. And now, with family around, it'll only get tougher to deal with the stress and the tension of the whole mess I dragged us into.

How are we going to survive a ten-day stay in my parents' house?

To be honest, I wasn't precisely thrilled when my father asked me if we wanted to spend Christmas and New Year's Eve with them, but it's every year's tradition to gather together at their old house for holidays. This Christmas is going to be the first since I divorced John, a man my father won't miss too much by the way. I think that's why he and my mother wanted me to come home as soon as they knew Jason and I would spend the holiday alone if I didn't.

I had to accept.

My son loves Christmas here, with his grandparents, and since we haven't celebrated any kind of family reunion for several months now, I hoped that being together with them again would make Jason feel a little bit more like his old self. That was the idea.

What I didn't take into consideration was that the new status between us would complicate things even more. I can't talk with him the way I used to, and he can't behave like his usual self with me either just because my family is present.

We kind of pretend it's okay, but the tension is so thick that I know despite we've been here for just a couple of hours, my parents and my sister will start asking us more questions about it pretty soon.

Since December began, Jason has spent most of his time at home locked in his room, playing with his computer games or using his phone, doing schoolwork, and watching movies or series in bed, not bothering to interact with his mother unless it's absolutely necessary. And the occasions when he's forced to talk to me, the only words he says are 'yes' or 'no', with some occasional 'please' thrown in there.

The rest of the brief time we spend together is very uncomfortable, almost unbearable. I don't even try to start conversations with him, and he doesn't do it either.

And I'm the one to blame for that. It was I who started giving him the silent treatment after that night. For a couple of days, I was so blinded with jealousy and anger that whenever he tried to talk to me, to fix things, I always replied to his attempts with silence or dry answers. He eventually gave up and accepted the fact that his mother and he weren't on good terms anymore.

After some days like that, some of those emotions started fading away in my chest, while mostly guilt took over inside my malfunctioning brain. And of course now, weeks after that and with calmer waters, those intoxicating feelings haven't vanished yet.

Not after what I did. No, quite the opposite.

It's the rage that's faded like the fog in the morning sun, letting me drown in the sadness and regret that comes with it, with every breath, every word, every move, and every action. I can sense how jealousy and remorse are fighting a battle to decide who has the most destructive impact on my heart.

And now I just miss my son.

Anyway, even if he's as hurt and distressed as I am with the current state of things, turns out my boy didn't have the guts to betray me.

Weird, isn't it? I mean, I don't know if he ever considered doing so, but the thing is he didn't report me to the police or his school for what I did.

He should have.

I had this egoistic fear that he'd call for help. I wouldn't have even tried to stop him if he had. I felt like I was such a bad mother after hitting him like that, and it would've been very easy for him to make a scandal, to call the authorities, and to blame the whole thing on me. But he didn't do any of it, even after the way I hurt him with words and violence.

And I don't think I can thank him enough for not ruining my life.

Instead, my son has remained silent about everything I did. He didn't tell anyone, not Amanda – I think –, not even his friends at school, and not any teacher; I'm pretty sure of that. From the last conversation I had with Mrs. Williams, I have the feeling he's just pretending things are just fine at home.

It's crude, to be aware that even though I've betrayed him in too many different ways for any teenager to handle, he doesn't seem to be able to do the same thing with his mother. Despite we haven't touched or hugged since that day, the violent silence and the tension in our relationship can't erase the love and respect he feels toward me. At least, the little remaining of those emotions inside his heart.

Painful, isn't it?

Will it have any consequences, what I did to him? Because it should. Maybe not in the sense that they could take him away from me, but how is this going to affect my relationship with him in the long term? How far do I need to go to force him to betray me somehow?

If even I can't stand myself sometimes, why does he keep caring for me even if we're no longer speaking to each other?

The sound of Steve's voice calling for him brings my mind back to the present, and my gaze quickly shifts to him.

"Heard you got a girlfriend, Jase.

He's heard what?

Not from me.

Maybe Jason told my sister?

He shrugs, his face still serious, almost gloomy. "Well, uhm... Yes, there's a girl that... I mean, we're not together together, you know? But yeah, I like a girl and we're going out."

Both my heart and my hands start shaking when I hear my son say those words in front of everyone in the kitchen. And of course, my mother and father can't help but show an excited smile when he finishes the sentence.

"That's good news! And who's the lucky lady?" my mother asks.

I can feel my cheeks turning red and the heat inside my chest starting to burn, in contrast to the chilly sensation that runs through my veins.

"Her name's Amanda," I say, my gaze locked on my son's while I sit at the table too. He doesn't say anything. His jaw tightens, and he holds my stare for a second before running away with his eyes.

"Oh, so you do know her," Lauren says.

"I do," I reply, still focused on my son. "She's good to him. She's a fine girl."

It isn't my intention if the tone I'm using is bitter or mocking, and maybe it's something only I can sense in my body language, but the weirdness in his gaze tells me he's reading what I want to express to him through my own stare.

"Then I hope we get to meet her someday," Peter concludes, with his gaze fixed on his grandchild.

A little while later, when there's another topic being discussed at the table, my dad turns his head to me, giving me a questioning look for a couple of seconds.

My father is no dumbass. He may not know anything about what happened between Jason and me, but I can see the old man suspects something is going on. He's noticed his grandchild's uneasiness towards his mother, and how the vibe's changed so much from when we were still living in the city.

And how could it not? Jason and I were practically inseparable until the summer holidays ended. It still was like that until three weeks ago. He used to tell me everything he did, and I listened to him as my life depended on it. We've always been so close, never had a single problem, and it looked like we'd be that way forever; and Peter, my father, knows that's the way our relationship should always be.

But now? Now my family is witnessing the disinterest and pain I've put between my son and me.

Lunch is quiet and peaceful. A few conversations here and there about last year's events: my parents' recent vacation, Lauren and Steve's upcoming anniversary, my mom's latest hobby, and Jason's first year of high school.

When everyone is done and my sister and her husband go upstairs, Jason excuses himself and leaves the kitchen before my mother says she'll help me with the dishes. I just shake my head at her offer, and my father helps her clean the table before the old man leaves the room too.

For a while after that, I feed my gardening obsession by checking the peace lilies and the ferns on the back porch at my parents' house. I know my mother is much better than me with plants, but the silence out here is soothing to my ears, and it helps me get my mind out of my thoughts, while the smell of the fresh winter air in the suburbs fills my nostrils.

Red Christmas sweater and jeans are more than enough in the not-too-chilly air for a sunny late-December afternoon, although they fall short in the task of warming the freezing pain inside me.

Not long after that, I hear the unmistakable steps of my father approaching, as the wood under my feet squeaks a little when the old man comes to his daughter.

I know he's here to talk to me about Jason.

"I was asking myself what my girl was doing out there," he says.

"I like looking at Mom's plants."

"Yeah, she likes those plants more than she likes me," he chuckles.

"You know that's not true."

He sighs. "Yeah, that ain't true."

I keep staring at the backyard in silence.

"Weather's good. Winter is getting warmer here, Dad."

"Yeah. Back in the day, it would be snowing on days like this one," my father grunts, the lulled sound of the breeze, and the sing of the birds on the trees fill the seconds of silence that pass before he opens his mouth again. "It's Christmas Eve, Sam. You know I don't like a hostile family at Christmas."

"Are you upset with someone, Dad?"

"You know that's not what I'm saying," he sighs.

I take a deep breath and finally turn to him. I don't want to look him in the eye, but I don't know how to avoid it. "What is it, then?"

"I know there's something going on. Even your mother noticed. It's obvious something is wrong."

Dad always was the comprehensive, more sensitive one between him and my mom. While my mother has this short-tempered, hot-blooded side that I inherited, my old man was always calmer and more empathetic than her. I can see his worried-dad attitude now that I look at him.

"Wrong? There's nothing wrong," I reply, trying to look as unconcerned as possible.

"Samantha Matthews, you can tell that story to someone who doesn't know you as well as I do. You're my daughter and I've known you all your life. You've never been very good at hiding your problems. Especially from me."

He is always right, but I can't tell him the whole truth.

"What do you wanna know?" I ask, looking him straight in the eyes, and the expression on his face makes me realize how much he really cares.

"Are you having problems with your son? You two seem to be out of synch since the second you arrived," he points out. "I've seen the way Jason acts around you, and I've seen the way he avoids talking or even looking at you, Sam. That's not normal for the two of you."

Right again.

"We had a fight. But that's it. Everything is fine," I say, my tone dry.

"It's clearly not fine, Sammy," he walks closer, and I feel his hand touching my shoulder for a few seconds, his voice calm and caring. "If there's something you want to tell me, you can. You know I'll always listen. I can tell you don't wanna talk about it with me, and I respect that, but he's your son. He's not doing fine. I can see it, your mother can see it, and it's apparently hurting him," his words come out filled with a tinge of pain in his tone. "And if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you care about Jason more than any other mother would care about her boy."

That feels like a knife stabbing my heart, forcing me to close my eyes to fight back the tears that start forming behind my eyelids. I want to believe what this man says about me is the truth, but I can't even think straight when the image of Jason crying after our last discussion crosses my mind.

I shake my head, shrug, and look away, feeling ashamed for the many things my father doesn't know I'm capable of.

"It's just..." I wish I knew how to begin, or what to say. "I'm so selfish, Dad. And… You know I love him more than anyone. Maybe I love him too much, and I... I've tried my best. I really have. But I keep hurting him and I don't know if I can stop doing that," my voice makes a sobby sound.

I don't realize the words are coming out of my lips until my father speaks again. "Is this because of John?"

"No, Dad. It's more complicated than that," I confess, shaking my head again.

My father's sigh is louder than before, and the creases around his eyes grow a little. "Whatever it is… He's just a teenager. I'm sure it's a phase, and everything will work out for you and your boy in no time," Dad's words make my heart clench, and the sobbing sounds become even harder to control.

There's no way my old man could understand anything about this or how it started. If I told him anything about it... Well, I think I'd no longer have a father, nor a family, to say the least.

"I hope so."

He grabs my hand gently, his wrinkly palm rubbing my knuckles softly as he offers me a kind and caring look. He knows I need comfort, and that I'm struggling not to keep crying. "Don't hope, Sam. Do. The girl who grew up in my house wouldn't just wait for something to happen. The woman I raised is the bravest person I know by far. A fighter. Someone who'd give anything for the people she loves," he says, making me shake my head as tears stream down my face.

I don't want to hug him, I don't deserve his hug, but his arms surround my body before I can stop him, and my head leans into his neck as we hug for the first time in what feels like decades.

Shit, I can't help but cry like a little girl when my father kisses the top of my head.

A father's love helps me remember I once was a sensitive, fragile girl, just as lost as my own Jason. And that even after I turned into the kind of woman who loves her son in the most perverse, dirty, twisted, and wrong way, my old man won't ever see her daughter capable of that. I feel like I lost some of my own humanity at some point not too long ago, and his warm embrace makes me believe that, maybe, if I do things right, there might still be something left of that young girl in me.

Of course, I've always been selfish, and manipulative, sometimes to the point of hurting people, including those closest to me, but I never thought that this kind of guilt would reach so far in my heart and soul. I always thought there was a side of me that's still kind and caring, and my son is clearly the one who brings that out of me, but I feel like that side of my personality is starting to be lost somewhere, and I know the problem is mostly mine.

And now I just miss my son again.

Maybe the man holding me is right. Maybe it's time to sort things out as well as we can, not only for my own benefit but also for him; for my son.

Oh, fuck, why is the growing fear I could've lost him forever hurting so much? I don't even know if he'll want to make up with me, talk to me even, but I know I can't live like this anymore, neither Jason nor I. We deserve to be okay at least, if we can't be happy ever again.

And I can't live without his love.

I miss him every second.

"You're right," I whisper between sobs.

"'Course I am," he says, and we separate a few inches, his hands on my shoulders as I try to clean the tears that still fall. "Now go and make peace with your son. Your mom will take care of the stupid plants," his laugh makes me smile a little, and I squeeze his hand before leaving the backyard.

"I love you, Dad. Thank you."

"I love you too, my princess. Now go," he orders me, and I give him a short, tender hug.

The stairs feel like an endless path to an unconceivable relief. Every step I make feels like a mile long, but at the same time, I don't know how I reached the hallway so fast. The door's not fully closed when I knock on the wooden surface and I hear my son in the middle of a call.

He says goodbye and hangs up within an instant when I walk inside.

The only remarkable thing inside the dull guest room is my son. He's lying on the king-sized bed, his laptop beside him, and his phone in his hand. The boy's face is full of confusion when he stares at me standing next to the door.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," he says back.

Jason sits down in front of me, with his legs hanging off the side of the bed, his arms supporting his body weight from behind him. I close the door, hoping no family member will interrupt without knocking, and I just stare at him, walk a few steps closer, and sit right next to his body.

The look in my son's eyes tells me everything. He seems pretty neutral, but he's not. He looks confused, a little bit annoyed, and mostly upset, but he's not showing it at the moment. I see in his eyes the kind of sadness only someone who's missing something very valuable could know.

"What do you want?" His voice is a little harsh, but he quickly regrets the way he talks to me. "Um… Mom?" he adds, like a fixing apology for his tone.

"We need to talk," my voice comes out like I haven't used it in years. I swallow, trying to hold the lump in my throat down.

He stays quiet, just staring at me with an inquisitive gaze on his face, his expression serious but at the same time curious about what his mom is going to tell him. He probably suspected something like this was coming sooner or later, and the truth is that I don't know why we've waited so long for it to happen.

But I'm done. I'm tired of feeling like a monster, a liar, and a sinner.

I just want my son back.

I need my baby to be mine again.

And I know he wants this to end as much as me.

"So... Are you and that girl..." I begin, feeling a little bit of bitterness in my own voice. "Are you dating now? I mean, for real?"

I'm sure this isn't the best way to start this conversation, but I need to know, even though there's no way I wouldn't know he's been seeing her.

He looks away, and I see his shoulders go up and down with a sigh. "Yeah, kinda."

The first week after our fight, my son would mostly remain all day locked in his bedroom, but then he started spending more time outside the house. There's no way I couldn't have guessed it's often in Amanda's company since he's been going out almost every day. And I can't blame him, since I've been doing the same thing with Mario.

I suppose you can say he and I are kind of dating now too, but we're taking things slowly on my behalf. He doesn't come to my house that much, and we try to take turns driving to see each other, even though I always make sure it's never my turn. He seems to really like me, and I guess that I don't find him too boring, honestly.

Mario is always very sweet and careful with me. He's been trying his best to be the man I deserve, but his attempts are all for naught because the only thing that matters in this equation is the person missing in my life – the only boy that's the center of my life – the one that makes me feel like no one else will ever be enough for me.

But that's where it ends. Mario is just a guy who's filling my days while I do my best to forget the pain I feel, and the sexual part of my life with him isn't helping much with making me forget Jason.

It's no surprise. Since the first quickie we had in that bathroom stall, sex with Mario is nothing out of this world. I won't say it's bad either, but the way I can feel his love in his movements, his desire in the way his lips caress mine, it only makes me see myself as a horrible woman who's taking advantage of an innocent man's feelings.

The single time we had sex in my room was just a quick and meaningless fuck; it was the first time Mario came after Jason and I fought, and I felt a little cruel when I groaned loud enough for Jason to hear from the other side of the room.

But I felt really stupid after that, and I haven't taken Mario to my room again ever since.

"You could've told me."

"You wouldn't speak to me, Mom."

"You did the same thing."

"But you started it, Mom… I tried to talk to you a hundred times, and you just wouldn't talk to me. You made me feel like you didn't give a shit about me. You were just..." I see how hard it is for him to express his anger, how hard it is for him to hate me and hurt me, and I can tell he's trying to avoid that as much as possible right now. "What was I supposed to do?"

I know he's right. I've known for weeks.

My eyes are suddenly filled with tears once more.

"Jason, baby, I'm… I'm so sorry. I am, really," I tell him, but the weeping doesn't let me speak without a little pause. "I'm just so hurt... So fucked up..."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his arm shaking, and I can tell he's crying too, but the sobbing is barely audible. He doesn't move for a few seconds, but then I place my hand on his forearm to prevent it from trembling, moving it gently over the surface of his soft skin.

"Please, Jason," I beg. "Please, forgive me, baby. Forgive your mother... I've been so heartless to you, I know... Please..."

I don't really know what else to say. This is the best I can do.

His head turns to see my tears, he doesn't wanna cry either, but the pain is too strong for him to bear. He closes his eyes and then I feel his head against the smooth, sweet skin of my neck, his sobbing getting louder when he holds my arm to squeeze it tightly.

"It's... It's okay, Mom. I forgave you weeks ago," he tells me, still crying. It's hard for me to believe he'll just let me off easy, even if the wetness on my sweater shows his tears are sincere, and his words make my thorax hurt with every stutter. "Let's just forget about that night. Please... I missed you so much, I can't..."

What did I do to deserve him?

"Oh, baby, I missed you too…! So, so much," I tell him, and his hand finds mine and wraps his fingers around my knuckles.

We stay there in silence, feeling each other's love and pain, for what seems like ages until I find the words to speak again.

"I want you to know that I regret everything that happened, okay? I regret deeply all the things I said and… What I did, okay? I didn't mean any of it. I love talking to you, taking care of you, listening to every word you have to say… But I was so hurt, Jason. I couldn't control myself, and the way I… I can't even say it, for fuck's sake!"

The tears keep falling from my eyes and his. It hurts so much to realize I don't even know if I can grant him I'll never do it again. The only thing I can assure him is that I care about him so much that I'll try with all my heart not to cause the same pain to him.

Not the way I did.

"You're still my baby, Jason. No matter what you or I do… You'll always be my baby. I swear I'll never… I swear, baby."

He doesn't say anything back. His breathing is fast, gawky, and barely audible as my hand keeps moving across the fabric of his shirt on his back. My son slowly lifts his head up, and the look of hurt on his face breaks my heart even more. He doesn't even care that the tears are rolling down his face, and it hurts to see his beautiful, innocent face twisted in so much pain and sorrow.

My son wraps his arms around me and hugs his mother for a very long time. Our bodies tremble as expected from the tension we've accumulated for the last couple of weeks, the weight of everything we've done to each other – what I've done to him, actually – now present on our chests as we take heavy air in our lungs, and then I realize he's pulling his mother closer to his body.

"I'm sorry too, Mom," my boy apologizes. "I didn't mean to hurt you, and I know I did... I know you… I know you were only doing what you thought was the right thing for me. I didn't mean to be so selfish with you… I didn't mean to make you feel lonely, I..." His voice cracks again, and he sounds broken as he talks. "I just want us to be okay again... Will you forgive me too, Mom?"

Why? Why should I forgive him? He didn't do anything to me, did he? Well, he kissed that girl, that's true. But is it fair that I get to be the one forgiving such a normal behavior for a boy his age?

Why is my fourteen-year-old son so sweet with his wicked mother? Why can't he be mad at me? Why doesn't he just tell me to fuck off? That he doesn't believe me? That he doesn't want to speak to me ever again?

Despite everything I've done to him, after all the unbelievable shit I put my baby through, he still wants some kind of forgiveness from me, as if I deserved his apology at all!

His innocence and his will to please me still make me both proud and worried about him. I've been so cold, hard, and cruel to my sweet, wonderful, loving boy, and yet, here he is, willing to forgive everything I've done, ready to go back to normal after the way I mistreated him.

And he's asking for his mother's compassion.

"What for? There's nothing to forgive. All you've done is something boys your age are supposed to do," I assure him, reasonably believing what that means for the first time in my life. "And I've caused you so much pain for that, Jason."

A long sigh comes out of his chest, and I feel him shaking his head, with his hands tightening on my back. "I love you so much, Mom..."

"Oh, baby," I say, wrapping my arms around him, pulling him as close to my body as I possibly can, kissing his neck and forehead. "I love you too, Jason. I'm sorry. I love you... I'm such a bad mother to you."

"You're not. You try your best, I… I know you do," he says among weeps.

How's this even possible? How is it possible for him to believe what he's saying, with all his heart, after seeing from so close the way I actually am? Have I deceived him so much in his life that he believes everything I say without hesitation? Why do I have so much power over him?

My hand grabs the back of his head and I kiss his cheek, and then his jaw, and the corner of his mouth, as I hold him close, kissing the wetness of the tears on his skin, not ready for what he's going to say next.

"Mom, I... I need to tell you something. I… I know I should've told you before but…" He stops talking for a moment, his voice heavy when I nod against him quickly, to let him know he can tell his mother anything he needs to say. "I… I didn't kiss her... I didn't kiss her that day."

He didn't what?

He didn't kiss Amanda?

Shit!

I slapped him for nothing?

"I... I lied. I-I mean... We've kissed a couple of times now, b-because we've been going out and… But not that day. We didn't kiss that day, Mom. She kissed me like a week later, and I was so mad at you… I just wanted to hurt you when I told you that, Mom... I was so stupid... and selfish, and immature."

He's hurting. He's hurting with every sincere word he says, and in a way, I feel bad that he went that far just to cause me pain. But I was causing him pain too, right? When I kissed Mario in front of my son, not caring about his feelings at all that night. It was only fair for him to try to hurt his mother too. I can't lay it all at his door.

However, Jason's sudden revelation opens the door for another feeling, and that's called…I think the right word is satisfaction.

I knew! I knew he was bluffing!

He was, of course, he was! And I fell for it, like the most stupid and naïve girl in the world, letting jealousy, rage, and fear get the worst out of me. He's always been an honest and kind boy, but I always know when he lies. How did I let his untrue words hurt me to the point where I got violent and almost destroyed everything I've built for us?

Maybe I wanted to believe it. Maybe I wanted to be mad at him, right?

Oh God, why is it that his confession makes me feel kind of good?

"I know, baby, I know... It's alright. It's all behind us now," I tell him, but his eyes look down in shame. "Hey," I say, taking his chin between my thumb and finger. "Look at me, Jason," I say, and he slowly lifts his eyes. "I love you so much, baby."

My son and I stay there, hugging and holding each other, our foreheads touching and our faces just a few inches apart, as I caress his head with my hands, trying to comfort him. I can hear, almost sense, the sound of his heart pounding in his chest so aggressively that his ribs are going to burst from the pressure.

His gaze is locked on mine now, but he instantly moves his eyes to my lips, to my breasts, and finally back to my eyes.

"Listen, Jason. What's been happening between us... I know how it's felt for you. It was… Weird, even if you, well, enjoyed it most of the time. It's taken us to places that we never expected to find ourselves in. It's messed up, I know... I mean... It's beyond what I thought would happen in the first place," I continue, feeling my hands trembling, and my stomach twisting. "If you want this to be over now, I'll understand-"

Next thing I know, the boy throws himself at me. I let him fall into my arms, and I can feel his hands on the sides of my body, squeezing me and grabbing at me, holding me close.

His mouth goes to mine, and the kiss we share is intense, insane even, filled with a desperate longing for the other, like two starved lovers reunited after being separated for centuries. I feel myself melting against his mouth, his hands cupping the sides of my flesh as our tongues explore and stumble with each other. I moan in the kiss when I move my hands to the sides of his neck and face, pulling him closer as our bodies move in synch and his arms wrap around my waist, as close to him as possible.

I feel a little lost in the scenery. He's never been the one taking initiative or showing much leadership during our encounters, and it's kind of shocking to feel him making a move on me like this one. Does he want to show me how much he wants to please his mother? Or are these his raw feelings speaking for him?

My skin feels his mouth kissing my face now, and I can hear the sound of his lips as he presses them against my jaw, leaving trails of passionate pecks everywhere as his hands roam around my body.

"Baby…!"

His arms linger around my neck, his chest pressed to my breasts, my face against his. And we're holding each other like that, my hands moving through his hair while he buries his head in the crook of my neck, hugging his mom for what seems like an eternity, kissing my shoulder as our hearts pound faster.

"Mom, no, please, don't say that. I know I've been weird around you, but… I don't, I don't want that," he stutters fervidly. "Please don't ask me to do that, Mom. Don't... I can't stop thinking about you... I don't think I can let you go, Mom. Not now. Please..."

Fuck.

Oh, fuck!

"Oh, Jason, my Jason... My baby..." I mumble, and he moves his hands up my back and I scratch his scalp softly with my long nails, pulling his head into my shoulder as I kiss the side of his face, my big chest shaking with wails. "My son," I cry, holding him as close to me as I can. "My precious son... You know that's not what I want, baby. I don't wanna let go of you either, sweetie… I swear I don't."

We fall on the mattress, lying side by side, when his laptop falls to the floor and he doesn't even ask about it, his lips moving along the line of my lips as he leaves open-mouthed kisses on my skin.

Even if there's lust floating between these walls, the feeling we share now is so much deeper than that for both of us. The love we have for each other is as huge as always, even when it wasn't as twisted as it is now, but there's a need that fills the air inside this room that is a thousand times stronger than that. I sense through our bodies we are both craving to love and to be loved, to touch and to be touched, and that the closeness we've been missing lately is much bigger than the intimacy we've been sharing the last months.

The winter air feels warmer now as my son's body lies close to mine on the bed. The only noise I can hear is the sound of our breaths, the heat radiating through our skin, and the blood pumping through our veins. I can feel his heartbeat on his neck, and the warmness from his chest when our bodies are close to each other.

His thin, perfect lips find me again, and I take his mouth into mine, moaning into his kiss as my hands hold his cheeks, and we kiss until my lips are swollen and sensitive from all the touching and caressing.

My son's hand moves slowly up my side, his touch warm and loving, until he finds one of my heavy breasts. I can even sense the pounding on his crotch filling with blood, where the tip of his member is now rubbing against my leg as he moves it over mine.

"Jason..."

"I miss you, Mom," he looks hesitant but desperate, like he wants me, like he needs me – and only me – to keep on living.

His palm rubs awkwardly over the soft surface of the bra and the sweater I'm wearing, making it hard for me to refuse his advances.

"So do I, honey, so do I. But..."

What am I going to tell him? To stop? That this is wrong? After everything I've done, do I even have the right to tell him something like that now? It's not that I want him to really stop. But what I feel, what I need the most, is just one thing right now.

"Let's just kiss," I say, looking down at his mouth as my hands touch his face, brushing his cheek with the back of my hand, feeling how he nods to his mom's claim. "Let's just kiss, baby. I need my son's love more than anything. Let's… Let's save ourselves for later, honey. Will you do that for me?"

His gaze on me, the woman that gave birth to him, is so loving, so respectful, and acceptant of my demands, that I don't even realize the moment he says 'okay'.

I moan at the touch of our lips pressing against each other, closing my eyes when he presses his body even tighter. I feel my fingers' skin on his brown, thick hair, as our mouths make deep contact, and my leg finds the place between his. I can feel him moaning and rubbing himself on me, while we both wrap our arms around the other, not wanting to ever let go again.

The devotion grows thicker with my hand finding the butt cheeks I missed feeling under my fingers for weeks, with their soft, smooth texture as the nails scratch at it. It makes Jason move even more over me, and the sensuality in the way I make him feel with my touch on his little ass takes him to whimper a little in the middle of our ardent make-out passion.

In my mouth and around my lips there's a good amount of our fluids mixing together in a warm embrace of the deepest feeling there is for me: real love. Real love for each other, one that transcends every law and every social rule we know.

Our love as mother and son.

I lose track of time as our now relaxed and composed bodies move together on the now chaotic bed, kissing, touching, and cuddling with the kind of affection he and I can only share. It feels like ages, like time itself has stopped moving, like this is all there is left, all that matters in this universe.

Just us.

After twenty-two days without touching my son, without talking to him or looking into his eyes, I crave this moment with him to keep on existing. This is so much more than lust, or some weird obsession, or perversion, even. It's nothing like the other moments we've shared before, not even the first time we kissed, or the first touch I gave to his beautiful cock.

It's so much more than that.

Eventually, when my head lies against the side of his head, I breathe into my son's hair with his lips kissing my shoulder. He's hugging me, and my arm is inside his pajama shirt, my fingertips running up and down his chest, while our feet and our legs intertwine together, enjoying each other's heat in the most ultimate, loving way possible.

"My son," I whisper in his ear.

I can hear my baby boy humming as his own hands move up and down my thigh, pulling me close to his body. He rubs his head against the flesh of my breasts as he breathes the air between them through my sweater.

"Mom," the fourteen-year-old boy says in a very calm, shy voice. "I… I don't wanna ruin the mood or anything, but… I need to ask. What are we gonna do… I mean, what are you gonna do about Mario?"

I instantly feel exhausted after hearing that question.

What's he gonna do about Amanda?

"We'll talk about that tomorrow, okay?" I reply. "I'm too tired to think about anything else. Let's just make the most of this while together."

"Okay," he says, and we go quiet for a second before his words surprise me again. "You're right."

I can't help chuckling a bit. I told my father those same words a while ago when I talked with him in the backyard. I suppose people just always assume their parents are right, don't they? Makes me wonder, is it that easy to forgive a mother's sick and cruel ways and say she's right? I honestly don't know.

"I love you so much, baby."

My hand interlaces with his, holding him against me as we continue embracing each other in bed. Our bodies are relaxing as the minutes go by, our breaths getting slower, calmer, and deeper until his other hand stops moving on my skin.

It takes me a few seconds to notice, but then I feel my son's air coming out of his nose, slow and steady against my skin.

He's fallen asleep.

My boy is sleeping between my arms.

I don't want to lose him ever again.

I smile at his messy brown hair, my lips going to kiss his hairline, my hand going through it gently. There's no way I can't notice how peaceful, beautiful, and innocent he is, his lips parted as he sleeps, his head buried between the valley of my boobs, with one hand still on the fabric of my shirt and the other holding mine.

Even though I can't change what happened in the past months, the bond I have with my son is too special to ignore. More than any kind of bond. No matter what I do, no matter how deeply I hurt him, even with my own hands; he loves his mother too much to leave me to my own fate.

It's just who he is, right?

I wish I could say I've forgotten I'm his mother, that he's a minor, that this is wrong. I just can't say that. I never will, because there's a side of me that's telling me that I was meant for this, that we were meant for this, that our relationship was always supposed to be like this at some point in our lives, no matter how hard that may sound, no matter how bad I know that's going to be in the future.

And if I ever dare to say those words loud enough that someone could hear me, everyone – and I mean everyone – would think I lost my mind, they'd take me to court, and then I'd no longer be the strong, loving mother people believe I am. The kind of mother I believe I am.

I'd only be the lead story in the news for a week.

Maybe a month?

I'd be nothing but that crazy monster, the one whose neighbors and family would be asked about on TV shows. And obviously, some of them would say that I seemed 'normal', that I always said 'good morning', while the rest of them would tell the press that they knew there was something off about me. That I was possessive and overbearing, and that they could see it coming somehow, because of the way I treated my son.

I'd be the woman who ruined her son's life forever. Nothing else but that. And there wouldn't be a single drop of life inside me; not in my heart, not in my soul, and certainly not in my tormented mind.

But no one ever suspects such things about a mother, right?

People couldn't wrap their heads around the mere thought that a mom could do all that with her son.

All right, perhaps I'm a monster. I might be manipulative, selfish, cruel, and crazy when I get mixed up. I may have crossed the line once or twice. Maybe I'm even obsessed with him, or even possessive in a sick way.

I don't care. Not now at least. What I do know is that my heart belongs to this beautiful and handsome boy who's resting his face between his mother's breasts and neck.

And the truth is he'd do anything for me if I needed him to. He's blessed me with his unconditional love since the moment he was feeding from my umbilical cord, and I know he'd give anything I asked him for without complaining or even hesitating because I raised him that way. I can't say it's fair or that I deserve it, but he loves me in a way that no other man will.

No one will ever love me the way he does.

"And no other woman will love you the way I do," I tell him in his sleep, as my lips go to kiss his temple again and again.

I've never felt as complete and relieved as I do right now, and the only thing I can do at this very moment is hold him while he sleeps peacefully, caress him, and keep showing him that he's the most important thing in my world.

The most important thing in the whole fucking world.

Chapter 12: 'Home Alone'

Notes:

Hey everyone again!

I was going to upload this chapter on the 15th, but I won't have much time within the next few days, so I'm doing it now. New record! This one is the longest so far with almost 15K words, and I'm pretty sure many of you will enjoy it. Again, it isn't like I enjoy adding words, it just comes natural hahahaha, it's the way I write.

On a different note, I'm glad to tell you that I think I've improved my English writing a lot over the past few months. Now I'm much more aware of what I'm writing, which is why it's also taking me longer to craft every chapter. I'm much more careful now with every word, trying to sound natural and not too repetitive. However, I had (and still have) the feeling that the first chapters had a pretty poor writing. After rereading them, I realized that if I wanted to maintain standards similar to the recent chapters, I had to take time to improve them somehow. That's why I've changed a lot in the expression (not the story, that's the same), although I don't recommend rereading them if you've already done it. Just so you know, chapters 1 and 2 have already been revised, and I'll probably continue to do the same with the following chapters in the coming weeks.

And one more thing I wanted to ask you all: should I add the 'straight shota' tag? I'm not sure if this is exactly a straight shota story, considering they usually involve boys younger than Jason. I'm expecting your thoughts on it.

That's all for now :) Next chapter will probably come around the 30th, but you can let me know what you think of this one to keep giving me motivation to write. This takes A LOT of time, and feedback is always welcome.

Hugs!

Chapter Text

My parents' old living room is way too decorated. Shelves are full of family pictures, knickknacks, and tiny souvenirs they brought from every vacation. An average china cabinet and the coffee table crafted with glass, wood, and brass make up most of the room, where a few chairs are scattered around the big table where we've been playing board games all evening after dinner.

There's a large, gorgeous, 6-foot tree in one corner, with way too many presents underneath to count. There's also fancy Christmas stuff spread around, and the smell of pine needles and cookies, with the sound of the dying embers still cracking in the chimney.

My family is pretty simple when it comes to Christmas. We like to spend time together, no big celebrations with lots of friends or anything. For many years, it was just my parents and us two, and not even when John and Steve started coming over we made anything different than usual.

And on Christmas Eve it's always been board games and Home Alone.

Lauren and I were eight and ten when the movie came out, and our dad bought us the VHS cassette to watch at home on a cold December 24th, with the two of us on the family couch alongside my mom. What's curious, to say the least, is how my parents still have – and use – the same VCR where we watched Home Alone for the first time.

Yeah, my father is that kind of guy, he's a romantic, and he likes to keep his old stuff working on and on for many years.

It's around ten in the night when we all gather to watch the movie. My son and I share the narrower couch in one of the sides, with my father on the armchair in front of us, while my mom, Steve and Lauren take the bigger, softer sofa with the best angle to watch the TV in front of them.

I just feel a special kind of comforting happiness every time I remember how my family celebrated this day back when I was little. Time appears to stand still within this house.

However, what makes me even happier than all that, is how I'm feeling after waking up from the little nap I had with Jason upstairs. I didn't know it was possible for us to make up like that, to feel so deeply connected to someone like we are, to care about him and love him with my heart and soul the way I do.

Maybe I'm wrong, but it isn't like Jason and I are back to where we were before our fight, which would've been great and wonderful in a way. No. It feels like we've taken our relationship to a whole different point of acceptance now, in a way I can't put in words yet.

I'm still dressed christmasly. He's changed into his blue jeans and dark red Christmas sweater for dinner, and the slippers he's still wearing on his feet don't seem to match the outfit very well, but I don't think he cares.

He never cares too much about those things.

I wish I knew why my boy seems so much calmer than me, so at ease with what's happened with the both of us, with what's happening now. It's been barely hours since we made peace, and yet it's like we were never apart from the start, or at least that's how it seems.

With everyone here, we both know there's a limit to what we can do when the movie begins. Little touching, not too many caresses, and certainly no kisses; at least nothing more than what you'd see a mom and her son doing in any regular circumstance.

"That boy's a genius, isn't he, honey?" my father talks to my mother, looking at the TV, and they murmur for some seconds.

"I don't get why Grandpa acts like he's never seen it before," my son whispers. "We watch the same movie every Christmas Eve."

I nod at his remark. "Yeah, your grandfather just likes to make the same comment every y-"

My boy's phone suddenly breaks into my moment of happiness with a noise from his pocket. He sits up a bit straighter and checks his screen. A weird feeling settles in my chest when he looks at the phone for a second, then back at the movie, and finally our eyes meet again.

He's got a slight, guilty blush on his cheeks that I can barely see because of the lack of light.

"Is it her?" I ask him in the quietest whisper.

He nods.

"Text your girl back, Jase," Steve chimes in, causing both my son and me to startle at his interruption. I'm taken aback that he could even notice anything in the dimly lit room with the movie playing and only the Christmas lights from the tree casting a glow. "Come on, don't leave her hanging. I bet she's got more to say than just 'Merry Christmas', buddy."

He's an asshole.

A nosy asshole.

"Y-yeah," Jason mumbles, not certain of how to respond. I nod at him, giving him permission to reply to the girl. He taps at the screen of his cell and then places the gadget on his lap, waiting for a new text.

The weird expression on his face doesn't keep my heart from feeling a little crushed when he opens Amanda's next message, a text he reads quickly, before typing a couple of more lines to his girl, and he locks his screen again.

Then the phone makes another sound.

Jason moves in his seat when he checks his phone, and a subtle, tender smile dances on his lips as he reads her latest text. For some minutes, he's barely focused on the movie, reading her replies while keeping his eyes low, avoiding me when I stare at him from my spot, with his leg gently pressing against my own.

Seeing him gladly smiling isn't the thing that bothers me; after all, my boy deserves to be happy and feel appreciated, but I still hate this girl so much that the sight of my son texting his girlfriend in front of me feels like a dagger twisting in my gut. It's just the idea that it's her who's putting that smile on his face that gets under my skin.

And then his damn phone makes another fucking sound.

And it's making me feel pretty sick.

"Would you put it in silent mode, at least? It's Christmas Eve. We're watching a movie here, Jason," I whisper.

He turns his eyes back at me, with the look of someone who feels caught doing something bad.

"Y-Yeah, sure..." He stutters. My son stares at his phone screen once more, almost like he's gathering his thoughts, and gives a little glance at his mother before speaking again. "Sorry, Mom. I can put it in silent mode, but… Do you... Do you want me to turn it off? My phone, I mean."

I shift my gaze a little, glancing over at our family, all of them focused on the screen in front of them. Then, I move my attention back to my boy, who wears that concerned look, eagerly awaiting my opinion on what we should do.

He's basically asking for my permission to keep texting his girlfriend while we spend time with our family, right here in the same room, just feet away from where my parents and siblings are watching their favorite Christmas movie.

It's almost romantic that he does that, in a very twisted and perverted kind of way.

There's only one possible answer to his question, and he knows that as much as me.

"Okay. Do that."

The boy does as he's told. I can barely hear him as he opens her message, his fingers tapping away on the touchscreen. But once he hits the right button, the room falls into absolute silence. All that remains is the movie's music, and the phone's screen no longer lights up.

That's okay for now, but maybe I'll have to do something about that phone later, so I can keep my son away from it in the next few days.

The embers in the chimney lose their glow almost completely in the chimney, and shortly after the air becomes cooler in the living room, I can't tell if it's the dropping temperature or the way the boy inches closer to me that sends shivers down my spine and raises goosebumps on my skin.

I grab the blanket that rests on the arm of the couch and spread it over our bodies, in order to keep us warm. It's then that I realize my son is watching me again, as the light from the screen reflects on our faces.

There's no chance I'd miss the bashful expression in his eyes.

"Better?" I ask him.

The boy just sincerely nods as an answer.

I grab his hand under the thin blanket and place it on top of his thigh, with no other intention than to be in physical contact with my beloved boy. His head finds my shoulder as the tip of his nose rubs gently on my sweater. Both of us are sporting smiles when I plant a gentle kiss on the top of his head, my hand rubbing his in a tight grip, my fingers intertwining with his own in the most tender and caring touch we can possibly share at this very moment.

It's clear we've got Amanda to discuss, that there are too many things between us going on that need to be talked about, but those are topics we'll save for another day and circumstance. For now, it's comforting to have my son's undivided attention, and it's even more reassuring to know that despite another girl bombarding him with texts, he'd choose to be present with me, and with his family, rather than responding to a couple of messages from that girl.

Right now, at the moment, there's nothing I care more than holding his hand like this, savoring this moment with the boy I raised and love, with my parents and family by my side.

But I'm suddenly startled by a poking bulge pressing against the back of my forearm, the one I had resting over Jason's lap. It startles me enough to make me swiftly turn my head, trying not to move too much or too loud, so as not to draw any attention to either of us.

Really?

Now?

He shoots me a quick, knowing glance, fully aware of why I reacted as I did. I attempt not to respond too obviously, but as the bulge continues pressing against me, I can't help but feel a rush of warmth spreading through my body.

I stare at him with a slight smile, and a hint of pride that I can't hold in, as his fingers give a soft, gentle squeeze on the top of my hand. My boy's big, blue eyes seem to glow in the reflection of the screen, and his little mouth twists up in an awkward, lovable smirk, revealing those sweet dimples on both sides of his cheeks.

God, my baby is just so fucking adorable!

I look around at our family and it seems like no one noticed anything or paid us any attention at all. Lauren, my mother, and my father are still focused on the TV, watching Kevin's creative plans to fight the Wet Bandits with whatever he can find in his house, and Steve is too busy being distracted by his own phone to see how red my face has turned.

Of course, an obvious, perverted idea crosses my mind.

Maybe, just maybe, it could be worth the danger.

But how much am I willing to risk?

I take a quick peek around at the others and then back at the fourteen-year-old, who seems to understand what's going through my mind without me even uttering a word.

But I bet he doesn't have a fucking clue, because what's crossing my mind isn't something he's used to.

My panties start to get a little moist as his boner keeps pressing under the fabric of his jeans. He looks a bit uncomfortable in his seat, with his eyes moving quickly towards the rest of the room. He tries not to look too anxious or nervous when his leg moves to one side and the other to hide his growing bulge, but that just makes his situation worse, if possible, since he can't help rubbing the bulge with the inside of my forearm.

I fix the blanket, spreading it better around our bodies, so no one catches on to what's happening beneath it, and out of the corner of my eye, I sense my son giving short peeks at what his mother is doing.

One of my hands slowly starts unbuttoning my own black jeans, and as subtly as I can manage, I lower my zipper just enough to leave some space for a hand.

I shoot another quick, anxious look at my family, but it seems like they haven't caught onto anything, which gives me a sense of relief. His head then turns toward mine, but I can barely look at his confused face when I grab his innocent wrist and carefully drag my son's hand inside the opening of my jeans.

That's what he wasn't expecting.

Jason looks back at the other couch, checking if my mother or my sister have picked up on anything. He moves his eyes swiftly, but luckily, they don't even react to us.

My hand leads his awkward hand over my panties, his fingers grazing through the thin fabric, still not knowing what to do with it. I give him a subtle nod, letting him know what I want, what I need, and what I crave.

I feel his understandable hesitation for a few moments. Then, his fingers slide slowly across the surface, initially rubbing against my labia and going lower, as if he was trying to find where exactly my hole is in the dark, which is actually absurd, considering he's touching me over my underwear.

He doesn't know what he's doing. He's improvising.

My son must be feeling pretty lost right now, but I think a little bit of teasing won't hurt.

I correct his movements, guiding him up again, showing him where my most sensitive spot lies, the tip of his fingers finally grazing the humid, warm textile resting on my clit.

He gazes at the screen ahead of us, stealing glances at me every couple of seconds, like he's checking if I'm comfortable, but the question he should be asking himself is if he's okay with what's happening. I bite my lips, trying not to show what we're up to on a family Christmas Eve underneath the blanket.

As expected, he's completely clueless when it comes to rubbing his digits over a needy, moist clit like mine, and he constantly loses track of where the most important thing is. The worst is he's trying so hard that it's making me smile cautiously as his fingers clumsily touch different parts of my cunt, and I sense his frustration building up with every failed attempt at trying to do the right thing.

His mouth twists to a cute scowl as he rubs a bit harder now. My lips are pressed tight together, surprised about the fact that he didn't show any resistance or denial towards his mother's desires, just some embarrassment.

I'm well aware of how risky this is. It would only take a single wrong move or one loud sound to catch us red-handed in a moment that could have a devastating effect on our future, a moment that would change the way my family sees me forever.

But how could anyone suspect a teenage son would touch her mother's cunt under the blanket during a Christmas Eve night?

No one.

Again, I'm not about to let that thought ruin my moment with Jason. Instead, I do what every good mom should do with her fourteen-year-old boy growing bulge inside his jeans.

His eyes almost jump out of his face when he feels my fingers on his lap, tracing the contours of the erection growing inside his jeans, but his attention turns to my mouth when he feels me leaning a bit to speak in his ear.

"Relax," I whisper as softly as I possibly can, very, very close to his lobule, my palm resting over the thick tent inside his jeans. "There's no way they'll notice. Just watch the movie, baby."

My boy makes a subtle nod, keeping his eyes glued to the screen, my grip still tight on his dick through the denim fabric of his pants, feeling the thick outline of his teenage cock underneath. He looks nervous as fuck, like he's about to get up any second and make up an excuse to leave the living room, but I know he won't dare do anything but pretend we're watching Home Alone, and nothing else.

His fingers finally find my slit again after the shocked pause I caused by touching his penis, and I don't have the courage to look down, afraid that one of them will catch my attention when I should be pretending to be entertained by the movie.

His touch is so random and out of rhythm, tense, and rigid, that the best way I can describe what he's doing is like he's a clumsy doctor that's performing surgery for the first time, like a complete novice who just doesn't know where he's touching.

Still, there's something in his naivety, in his effort to please his mommy, that makes my skin break out into a wave of goosebumps, even with my sweater on and the blanket around us.

"Sweet Jesus!"

My father's voice suddenly breaks the silence.

Our frightened hands quickly retreat from each other's pants as the older man stands up, scratching his head, and every member of my family looks at him. "We're all going to fall asleep here. You're all too quiet! Hmm… I think it's time for some popcorn. I'm sick of all those Christmas sweets. Anyone wants a drink or something?"

"No, Dad," my sister says, but I can barely pay attention to her when the boy next to me gives me a quick look in the dark ambiance. His cheeks are flushed, and I can feel the unease in his eyes.

However, after that initial fright, I'm back in a playful mood once again.

Naughty, huh?

"Ummm... Dad," I claim my father's attention before he heads towards the kitchen. My hand finds its way back onto the fourteen-year-old's thigh, and his cock fits in my grasp again, my fingers stimulating and massaging its head through the fabric. "Would you bring us a... What do you want, baby?" I ask, turning my head to the young boy next to me.

Jason's expression takes a serious turn, as if he can't fathom that his mother would do something like this with everyone so nearby, with his own grandfather looking at them directly, expecting an answer from him. His head turns towards mine, our eyes meeting each other's for the first time since we began touching each other.

I can tell he's about to stutter.

"Oh... um... yeah," the boy mumbles, still in disbelief. "A... Coke's fine, Grandpa."

"A coke it is, then," I tell my dad, who's smiling at us with his hands on his hips.

"Sure, Sammy, anything for my grandson. Coming right up!"

The movie goes on with everyone paying attention to Kevin McCallister's tricks.

It's ridiculously weird to hear my mother and sister laugh at how the kid does to fight the burglars on the screen, same scene they've seen a million times, while my hand is too busy playing with Jason's glans through his jeans, pressing hard with my claws as my other hand brings him to me again, secretly teaching his hand to rub on my wet slit with more purpose than just poking around my cunt randomly.

He's doing well enough considering these factors: he's a teenage kid learning how to please a grown-ass woman like me, doing it under a thin blanket, while we can't see shit, in the middle of a Christmas Eve night, and with his family just a couple of feet away from us.

My boy's hand keeps doing its best to figure out what will please his mother's cunt, and his eyes remain on the TV with a face so blank that even I can't imagine what he's feeling at this moment.

My fingertips perceive the dampness filtered through his clothes, a thin layer of precum coating my digits as I stimulate every inch of his young swollen, burning glans. Jason tries hard to keep himself composed, his legs moving slightly while I give him pleasure, with his middle finger now pushing between my labia.

I have to say he's slowly getting the hang of it.

When Peter, my father, comes back to the living room with a big glass of coke with two straws and a large bowl of popcorn for himself, I consciously take one of my hands out of the blanket, while I don't allow myself to lose grip of my boy's boner as my father hands me the soda.

"There you go," my father's deep voice says, and the young boy sips his drink from the straw while his mother holds the glass – and his cock – for him. "Are you not gonna say 'thanks'?"

He's kinda busy, Dad.

"Thanks… Grandpa," he sighs, sort of relieved that nothing happened.

My poor Jason. He's been cursed with a wicked mom who loves to see him struggle.

"Just in time. This is the best part," Peter claims, sitting down on his old armchair.

I place the glass on the table and drape the blanket over my shoulder again.

We remain like this for a long, long while, since I'm not willing to let go of the dick that's getting my fingers dirty and moist.

We can't go further than this. It's obvious, right? There's no chance I'd be able to just unzip his jeans and take his cock out in the middle of this room without everyone noticing, even if there's a large throw resting over us. My hands would need to move the blanket around a little too much, and someone might notice that something's not quite right on this sofa.

Plus, I know this cock in my hand too well to believe he's going to cum just from his mom rubbing it slowly and carefully on top of his clothes, and he's likely aware of that as well, but that's not going to stop us from pleasuring each other casually, shyly, at the same time my family laughs at whatever is happening on the TV screen.

Time flies faster than both of us had anticipated, and we suddenly find ourselves in the middle of the credits, where we get a chance to look at the rest of the living room again, only to find them all standing up from their seats.

Why hasn't anyone in this room picked up on what we've been up to for the past hour?

"So," my sister starts, "that's all, folks. Thanks for another great Christmas Eve, everyone. I'm wiped out, but feels good to be back home with my amazing family!"

Both my son and I release a long sigh, the tension leaving our bodies as my boy moves his hand out of my pants and fixes the blanket to cover his knees. I do the same thing, with a slight smile on my lips, trying to hold my chuckle as the fourteen-year-old blinks a couple of times.

"Yeah, yeah, enough with the emotional stuff, already!" Steve suggests, turning on the lights.

"I wasn't talking about you, husband," my sister jokes.

"Right, right. Let's go to bed," my mother says.

Everyone in the room seems ready to go, but Jason and I remain seated as my relatives pick their things up from the couch. Lauren and Steve walk out of the living room after saying 'good night', while my dad picks up the empty bowl on the table, and my mom waits for him, grabbing the glasses on the big table.

She's already halfway to the stairs leading to their rooms when she stops to talk to her grandson and her daughter. "What's going on with you two? You're not coming?" She asks, noticing that my son and I are still in our seats.

My son and I exchange a conspiratorial glance for a couple of seconds, and then I chime in, "Jason and I aren't ready to go to bed just yet. I think we'll be watching another movie, isn't that right?"

Jason smiles awkwardly and nods.

"You sure? It's almost midnight already, you know?" she says, checking the time on her wrist. "If you don't go to bed before midnight, Santa won't leave anything for you under the tree."

I chuckle, "Mom, I think my son is a little bit too old for that stuff by now, right, Jason? And that tree is already filled with presents under it."

"Alright, alright!" She concedes with a grin. "Well, we'll be heading off to sleep then. Don't stay up for too long."

My old man yawns loudly, and stretches his arms above his head. "I'm glad you two made up. See, buddy? I told you," he says, looking at me with a knowing twinkle in his eye, "sometimes all it takes is a little bit of talking to mend things."

He told my son what?

I share a glance with Jason, and it dawns on me that my father knows more than I thought. His confession tells me that Jason had sought his counsel before I approached him. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I decide to ask my father about their little conversation.

"So," I begin, trying to sound casual, "you did speak to my son before talking with me, didn't you?" I chuckle surprised. "You schemers!"

My mom chuckles, and her husband gives me a sly grin, clearly enjoying the little secret he's been keeping. "Well, Samantha, it seems like our boy here decided to consult the family wisdom before coming to you."

I'm feeling touched by the trust my son had in his grandfather and his willingness to seek guidance for our relationship. I suppose he likes taking care of his mother from time to time too, doesn't he?

It makes me a little scared too though. What did they talk about exactly?

I playfully nudge Jason. "You're quite the strategist, aren't you? When were you gonna tell me about your little conversation with my father?"

The boy giggles nervously as he looks away from his mother's face, scratching the back of his ear. "Um, I was about to, I swear… I mean, I was afraid you'd be angry or something like that. But Grandpa was... He said he'd go speak to you, you know, and I… I guess I couldn't refuse that offer," the young boy mumbles with a bit of hesitation. Jason shrugs, his smile widening after his pause. "I just wanted things to be good between us, Mom."

So sweet.

How could I ever be mad at him for that? Why is he so afraid of me?

My heart swells with love for my son, and I pull him into a warm hug. "You didn't need to worry about that, Jason. You're an amazing young man," I rub his arm and then give my father a grateful look. "And you… Well, thank you, Dad, for being there for both of us."

"Well, he told me nothing, actually. I don't know what you did to him, or what he did to you, but I can see that was one hell of an argument you guys had," my father claims. "I'm glad everything turned out as good as it did though," then turns his gaze at his grandson and pats Jason on the back. "That's what family is for, isn't it? We look out for each other, especially on days like these."

However, my mother is still standing there, impatiently waiting for my father to join her in heading to bed. She playfully taps her foot and raises an eyebrow at my father.

"I'm so glad you're all so happy, but I'm dead tired. Are you coming, dear, or are you planning to spend the night in the living room?" she asks with a hint of amusement, walking out to the hall.

My father chuckles, realizing he's been caught up in the moment. "Right, right, I'm coming, honey," he turns to me and Jason. "Enjoy your movie, you two. Good night, and don't stay up too late."

I don't look away from my son when I reply. "Good night."

"Good night, Grandpa Peter," the young boy says too. "You too, Grandma."

My parents exit the big room, turning the lights off again and closing the door behind them to keep the warm air inside. The sound of the door being shut by my father resonates in the quiet, cozy, living room, as we listen to my parents going upstairs, the two of them still chatting as their voices slowly disappear. This leaves just the two of us, alone together, in the midst of a Christmas Eve night.

And we just look at each other, sitting still, quiet, with only the Christmas lights reflecting on the young boy's face, as he stares back at me with a silly smile.

A smile I missed so much.

I get up from the sofa and walk to the movie shelf far from the chimney, where the VCR and the television are still on. My son follows my body with his gaze, staring at his mom's thick butt cheeks with the black jeans I'm wearing, as I take a look at all the titles in front of me.

There's a certain charm in having this collection of DVDs and VHS tapes in a shelf, even if everyone – including myself – buys memberships for the many streaming sites people can find online. There's still a sense of comfort in owning physical media in your home.

I grab the one I want and then move back to the couch, taking my seat next to him again, handing the DVD to my boy, who reads the title.

"The Holiday?" He asks me.

"It's a classic, Jason," I tell him as I get up to insert the disc in the player and go back to my seat on the sofa. "Respect the classics."

"Are we really gonna watch that, Mom?"

"That's the whole point. What do you think?" I ask, my hand grabbing the front of his red sweater, pulling him closer to me, feeling the air around us changing as we snuggle closer to each other. "We need to make it seem like we're doing something, right? The noise of the TV playing will hide... Whatever it is that you and your mother decide to do now," I add with a smile at his weird gaze.

I navigate the movie menu, and we both try to make it seem like we're not the horniest mother and son in the whole world right now. As soon as the second movie of the night starts playing, my teenage son makes a move to cover us again with the blanket, which is still on us waist-down. But I intercept his hand.

"Don't bother."

"But what if they come in?"

"Then we'll care about the blanket," I answer him in the sweetest, most soothing way I can.

"Mom, are you sure... About... you know," his tone a little anxious.

"I'm willing to take the risk," I reach up with my hand and run my fingers through his soft hair, admiring how much of a good-looking man my boy has turned into. "After all the effort you've put in to fix things with your cruel mother, we'll have to do something to make up for the lost time, right? If you believe I can wait until we go back home to have fun with this handsome, sweet, and caring young boy next to me, then you don't know your mother as well as you think," I add with a sly grin on my face.

Jason blushes hard with my hand on his chest, as I let it rest on the soft fabric of his Christmas sweater. "I think... I think I'm starting to know my mom really well," his eyes wandering from my lips to the bulky shape of my wool-covered tits.

"Damn, boy, you're sure starting to figure out how to talk to me, aren't you?" I reply with a seductive voice, my hand still stroking his hair with my nails, caressing his soft, messy short brown hair, staring into each other's eyes for a while as my fingers reach his cheek, my thumb now grazing across his lips. "Wanna kiss your old mom?"

The young boy stares at my mouth with a longing look in his eyes. "I... I always want to kiss you," he says in a tender voice. "And you're not that old," he quickly adds, making me smile at how respectful and funny he is. "Just a mom."

"Your mom."

I lean closer and my nose touches his nose as the fourteen-year-old smiles shyly. My fingers trace his soft cheek, then the contour of his jaw and neck, his head still with his face down as our lips almost meet, feeling the boy's warm, trembling breath coming out of his lips.

"My beautiful boy… My handsome boy. You don't know what you're doing to me, baby."

My heart stops beating for a moment when his warm breath touches my upper lip, his own mouth opening to welcome mine as I get ready to feel my son's sweet and innocent taste on my tongue again. My pussy pulses in anticipation, my body's already covered in goosebumps as I'm about to have the most romantic kiss with the young man who holds my heart with a grip so strong that not even a mother would dare break.

The fourteen-year-old's head slowly turns a little, so our noses won't bump into each other, our mouths meeting as the both of us feel a spark of energy as my hand rests on the side of his face. The boy's mouth parts with mine as a reflex, our lips sealed in a perfect way as I push my tongue gently inside his young, innocent mouth cavity.

And we kiss harder.

Deeper.

His hand, which was resting on my side, quickly finds its way to my breast, grabbing me like I've taught in the past, and I just can't help myself from smiling in his mouth, so happy and excited, while the fourteen-year-old enjoys the loving lips rubbing against each other, with his own mother, in the middle of his grandparents' house.

All of a sudden, my hand strolls up to his bulge again, this time massaging the shaft as I get my mouth off his for a second and give him a cheeky look, his eyes almost pleading for me not to tease him too much, and yet I can't help but smirk at his bashful expression.

I remove the blanket, exposing my legs and his, showing we were up to no good under the throw. He gives a long, nervous gaze to the door, like he's afraid and doubtful once more.

"I'm telling you, baby. There's no need to worry. We'll hear something if they come downstairs. I know this house well enough," I reassure him, and then I look at his crotch, where I see a decent-sized stain of sticky liquid on his pants. "Jesus Christ, sweetie... Look at you!"

"Huh. Oh, crap!" He exclaims in a low voice when he sees the precum dampening his pants.

I start rubbing my hand on his cock's shaft, feeling my palm sticky from all the liquid seeping through his jeans. "Hmm... This little guy of yours isn't making things easier, is it? You're so damn excited about what you're about to get..."

My hands move desperately to the waistband of his jeans, pulling his zipper down with ease, about to release his cock when he puts a hand over my wrist, making me stop before I do.

"Mom, w-wait," he says, a bit unsure.

His eyes seem concerned for some reason. I just give him a puzzled expression as Cameron Diaz's voice keeps talking in the background.

"What is it, baby?" I ask my boy. "I thought you wanted to..."

"I do. I really do, Mom, but..."

Oh no.

This again? Is he doubting us now? Or is he just too scared someone will catch us?

I look around in a panicky way, worried that he may be feeling something's off, that maybe this isn't what he actually wants after all, that my son is trying to put an end to what we started.

"No, Mom, I... I know what you're thinking. It's not that I don't want it, but..." He says with a weak, shaky voice. I nod at him, waiting for his next words to come out as my fingers run through his hair, caressing his scalp tenderly, trying to soothe him.

"Tell me, Jason. You can tell me. I'll understand."

Although I'm not so sure I will.

"It's just that... I've been thinking about something you said that night, during our discussion, and..."

"Baby, I told you I didn't mean any of that…"

"No, but listen to me," he says, and I do. "That day you said something that got me thinking, something I know you did mean," he stares right at my face, with his eyes reflecting the colors from the TV behind him, mixing with the grayish tone of his iris. "You said that sometimes you feel like... Like I don't care about you, like I only think about myself."

"Jason, I know you care about me," I interrupt him.

"Just… Let me speak, Mom. I didn't believe you were right at first, but when we were fighting... Those words hit me like a brick in the head, Mom."

Well, those were my hands, not a brick.

I open my mouth, ready to tell him that he doesn't have to worry about it, but I'm cut off when I realize there's something else he wants to say.

"I felt horrible. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat. I felt... You were kinda right, Mom. Sometimes I really am a selfish idiot of a son, and you were right about almost everything you said. You're always the one who goes the extra mile to take care of me, and I always take that for granted," his tone sadder and gloomier.

"No, baby," I say as my hand rubs his shoulder. "I was just angry, I was being mean with you, I..."

He interrupts me again, this time with his eyes sparkling with hope.

"It's not just that. You're always looking out for me, always making sure I'm happy, making sure I know you care. And... I realized I'd need to do the same, because..." The boy smiles as he stares into my eyes, a warm and reassuring gaze as his hand caresses mine, with his fingers wrapping around mine. "I do care, Mom. I care so much, and I want to let you know how important you are to me, and how… I never want to see the same disappointment in your eyes. Not because of me," his hand on mine makes my pussy soaking wet while my boy tells me all the right things a mom needs to hear.

He's so blind with love for me.

"Baby, you don't have to do anything for me. I'm the mom here."

But my words don't make sense, and neither do they convey my feelings for him right now, the same guilty feelings I had during those twenty-two days of us apart. The way he says he cares is making me so lovingly horny right now that I can't even fathom how lucky I am to be his mom.

"You're always making me feel loved, Mom. And when you..." The young boy suddenly blushes again. He's trying hard to let his words out, avoiding my eyes for more than a second. "When you touch me the way you do, or when we're having... You know... These moments together, it's... You make me feel special, Mom. You make me feel wanted, like... I know that's wrong, but, to me, it feels like... I didn't want to admit it when we started, but I see the easiest way to put it into words is… that I feel loved."

There's a sudden and surprising lightning in my stomach when my hands wrap around him again. I pull him into the most emotional, sensual embrace I've given him in his fourteen years of living. This instant feels so crucial to me – to us –, maybe because of the remorse for having such strong feelings for him, for all the things I said, for the way I slapped him.

"Oh, my God. I'm the worst mother in the world for putting you through all this," my tone melts him, I feel it.

We look into each other's eyes.

"You're not, Mom. Please. I know how I feel," he whispers with the same love, "I know I was too afraid of... of this, and that's why I was so weird about it all. But I wanted it, Mom, I wanted it so much... I still want it. I need you."

My head rests against his, feeling our hair mixing up in one. "Baby... I don't know what I've done to deserve you."

He shakes his head gently. "You deserve… more, Mom. You deserved more than Dad. I… I don't deserve you either," The fourteen-year-old's cheeks blush when my fingers press his palm a bit tighter. "And I want you to feel the same love you make me feel."

"What do you mean, Jason? I feel loved," I respond to his blind declarations of devotion for his mother.

"I know I haven't done a lot of things for you, but I'm ready to change that, and... You... You talked about, you know, your pleasure. You told me so that night... And, well, I wanna help you, Mom. I'll do anything to make you happy. And I know your pleasure is… as important as mine is, that's what I'm trying to say."

Is he talking about what I think he's talking about?

Is this his way to prevent me from seeking pleasure from Mario?

"Jason, this isn't what I wanted you to think when I did what I did under that blanket," I whisper to him in the softest voice. "I love what I do with you, when I touch you. When I put your hand in there before, it wasn't because I wanted something in return, honey. I was just thinking it'd be fun, and it felt good enough. But you don't need to..."

"I don't feel like it's an obligation," he quickly says, cutting me off once more in a respectful way. He's never rude to his mother. "It's something I wanna do."

I stare back at the young boy's innocent, angelic face I'm unable to resist, but I feel the urge to tease him a little more.

All right, let's play this game.

"You're a little devil, you know?" I smile and kiss him on his mouth. "Our little deal didn't say anything about you pleasuring me, remember?"

He shakes his head and his voice gets lower when he says, "Mom, I don't care about that deal anymore. It's... Outdated!" He chuckles, and it makes my pussy even wetter to see his adorable little laugh. "I wanna try."

The fourteen-year-old grabs both my hands in his own while he gives me another look filled with love and affection, mixed with the sweetest determination.

"Are you sure you're okay with your mother being the first you touch?" I ask, almost like I'm trying to find an excuse to let him out of this, to take away my own responsibility for what's about to happen.

But he just shakes his head up and down with no hesitation.

What can I do if he's so eager to please his mom?

"Okay, but... Let me tell you something first. I don't want you to feel disappointed if you're not capable of making me feel that good just yet, okay? At least, not in a way that can compete with the way I make you feel," I tease, but my voice is still serious. "This is a first for you, and you're just learning. Pressure isn't welcomed, understand?"

"I do. But you can teach me. Teach me how to do it, Mom." My son looks down at the opening of my jeans, my pink panties still peeking out of it. "How to make you… cum."

There's a part of me that still can't help but wonder how a little, innocent, fourteen-year-old boy can say such naughty words in front of his mom.

How can he just offer himself to learn something that no mom would ever want to teach to her baby boy? It feels weird and twisted, it makes me think about what kind of mom I've been to him, that my son's willing to learn this kind of stuff with me.

I guess I'm the kind of mom who teaches her son to be a generous boy.

"I... Okay," my quiet voice mumbles as my hands massage his own. "We can try if that's what you really want."

A blissful smile forms on his face, and it feels like I can finally see a bit of the old Jason, the happy teenage kid he used to be, who loved spending most of his time around me. He moves his head closer to mine, and I kiss him again, tenderly, while my heart starts beating faster as I feel my son's lips touching my mouth.

"All right," I whisper to his face. "You sure you wanna do it?" I ask again, and he nods like a good boy. "Well, then. First things first. My jeans are pretty useless right now, and a woman doesn't like to take off her own clothes, right?" I tell him with a naughty smirk.

"Oh, okay..." My boy mumbles.

He moves his hand to the waistband of my black jeans, where his fingers tug on the thick cotton. He starts pulling on it slowly, his hand still shaking a little when my body raises a little so that he can move it down my thighs knees. However, the fabric is tight around them, and the boy struggles with the task at hand, trying not to let them get stuck on my thick legs. When he finally reaches my feet, I kick off my shoes and he carefully leaves them next to the sofa, with the pair of black jeans falling to the ground, leaving me with just the pink cotton panties and the Christmas sweater on.

"You're wet too," my boy whispers in a nervous tone.

I can't help but let a tiny smile curve my lips as my son points out the damp patch that's formed in the middle of my underwear. "You did that, baby."

The boy bites his bottom lip as his eyes roam my crotch.

"Just pull them down, honey, like you did with my pants. Underwear needs to come off as well," I instruct him with a tender tone. He's a little clumsy with them too, but I just keep a sexy attitude as I'm helping him take off the last piece of clothing covering the lower half of my body.

"What about... Your sweater and..."

"Not that fast," I cut him off. "You wanted to give me pleasure, right?"

"Y-Yes..." He looks at me amazed.

I move to grab his head again, kissing him tenderly, while my lips go down to his neck, rubbing my nose against the skin and then licking his earlobe as I move closer to whisper in his ear.

"Then do it."

His hand moves instantly, touching me like he did before, but this time with more liberty without the thick fabric of the black jeans and the pink panties getting in the way of his curious fingers.

My back relaxes against the sofa while my shy teenager touches my most private part, very close to my side, with the innocent and clumsy hands of a young man who's doing it for the first time in his life.

His mother's cunt is covered and surrounded by dark brown hair, a few stray pubes popping up here and there on my inner thigh too. I admit it's been some time since the last time I shaped my pubic hair.

I like the way it looks though.

"You're not gonna say anything about it? What do you think?"

Jason's fingertips are grazing through my cunt's lips as they rub up and down, and he's taking his sweet time to figure out how my pussy feels without clothes to block his path.

The young boy mumbles when I see his fascinated eyes fly to my face. "About your... thing?" I nod in response. "Well... Um, it's... I dunno."

"I know this isn't the first time you see me uncovered. It's been years, sure, but I believe you didn't look at it with the same eyes you do now. You must be used to those trimmed, perfect, thin slits from porn, right?" He gives me a confused stare. "My thing, as you called it, isn't like that at all. Not like the one you were watching on your computer when I caught you. My lips are thicker, there's hair all over the place, and..." I make a long pause while he looks back at it. "Disappointed?" I tease, but at the same time, I want him to tell the truth. "Be honest."

"I think it's... It's nice, Mom. It's… Beautiful, even," he claims in a low, timid voice. "It's exactly as I expected it to be."

"Oh, really?" I ask, surprised.

The young man's fingers rub gently on the top of my cunt, tracing the surface with all of his fingers. "Really, Mom... It kinda suits you, if that makes sense."

God, he always chooses the best words.

I break into a wide smile, gazing into those innocent eyes that meet my pussy. "It surely does."

For a minute or so, my boy explores the contours of my forty-three-year-old cunt, trying to find all of it and what each part of my vagina is meant to be. His middle finger goes inside my slit, touching the sensitive folds between my pussy lips, and the moisture leaking from my hole starts getting a bit messier as I struggle to control my reactions to my son's tentative touch.

His finger moves in a weird way, poking the opening, and then he tries to go inside. I grab his wrist, taking his fingers away from the hole, and he shows his inexperienced questioning look.

"You need to pay a little more attention to the clit. You know what that is, right? It's over... Here," I place my own digits on top of his finger, already soaked in my juices, barely touching my sensitive surface. "Do you feel that little thing?"

He nods eagerly.

"Yeah, Mom... I know where the clit is... I-I read about these things. I just don't know why they say it's that hard to find, I mean… It's there, right?" he mumbles, embarrassed, with a blush that makes me giggle a little.

"You'd be surprised, honey. Most men don't pay any attention to it. If you watch porn, you know that. We'll see if it's as easy as you say… I shouldn't expect less from my wanton son. Since you say you read so much about it," I praise him. "You know how to proceed, right?"

"I… I think I do, yeah."

"You can ask anything you want," I recommend.

"O-okay," he says.

His eyes are on the place I pointed out, as he rubs carefully his middle finger right on my hood, where the little pleasure knob lies. The sensation of his sweet, soft, teenage fingertip makes my pussy eject some clear nectar that coats the skin of my sex, as his touch continues on me.

"Very good, baby. Just... Keep that going... Not too hard... Not too soft either... Like… Kinda around it," I explain as he does his best to give pleasure to his mother's cunt, moving the hood gently as its folds keep on leaking a warm liquid that makes his touch wet and sticky. "Damn, Jason... That's pretty good for a first-timer, huh? Very gentle. Now do it in circles, okay?"

Jason just does as his mommy says, as well as he can, even when his face shows a bit of frustration. He's lost track of the spot and now he's just poking and pressing randomly, hoping he'll get some reaction from me.

"No, honey, like this..." I hold his hand again, guiding him with mine around my wet, moistened slit. "Around and around, and then down, here, right to the... A-Ah, fuck," I curse, losing focus for a moment as the young man continues touching my clit like he's being taught.

My pussy is as shocked as me, considering how good this feels for a fourteen-year-old who's never done this to a girl yet. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's been studying all week about how to make a woman's pussy purr, just so he'd surprise me on Christmas Eve.

"You sure you didn't do this with your girl?" I ask him.

"What? No, Mom. We barely kissed..." He responds, and I feel a bit better after hearing him say that.

Even though he shouldn't even have kissed that scrawny little bitch.

"Good. You're... Good. Talented..."

I lay my head on the sofa behind me, resting it as my body starts shaking in response to my son's touch, my hips starting to move slowly against his hand. "Kiss me. Think you can handle that?"

My impatient hands run to my boy's neck, pulling him into my mouth again as he tries to do two different things with two different parts of his body. My lips devour my baby boy's mouth as his hand works on me.

I'm not worried that someone will come and catch us anymore, even if my brain reminds me of how wrong this is, of what will happen if they see my boy touching his mother like this, what kind of mother-son family we are for having a Christmas Eve night such as this one.

His touch is giving me good satisfaction, just like he yearned for, but I know this isn't enough to bring me to my orgasm, and that my pussy needs something else if we're going to keep up this game. His still inexperienced hands, although good enough for a boy of his age, don't do the optimal work just yet, so I feel like I'm going to need something to help us get where we want to go.

I release his face from my tight grip, my eyes gazing back at his young, swollen, wet mouth.

"Oh, baby, Jason!" I whisper to his mouth. "This is good, but… Do you really wanna make me cum?"

I wonder how this question resonates in his mind, considering it's his mother asking him and not some girl.

His eyes look like two innocent orbs staring back at my eyes when he nods quickly, with his face still very close to mine.

"Put these inside," I command, taking his middle and ring finger, and leading him toward the entrance of my channel. "I'll take over on my clit and you... You know what to do, right?"

I kiss his mouth one more time, but we don't make out for more than a second before I feel his digits grazing over my opening. He gives me a lustful look and I see his cock is harder than ever inside his pants.

"Umm… Yeah," he says.

"Do it," I whisper in the middle of my breathless words. "Do it, Jason."

He slowly slides his thin fingers into the moist slit that's welcoming them, pushing against my inner soaked flesh until the last knuckle is inside of me.

This isn't like the first time I fucked Mario. No. Now, my pussy is accommodating my son's hand like he was meant to be in here from the very start, allowing him to enter me with almost no effort. And this boy isn't like Mario at all.

He's only 5'8" tall, aged fourteen, with a skinny, fit body and a perfect, pretty face with blue eyes and short brown hair, obviously inexperienced and awkward in most aspects of his life; but I can tell he's enjoying every single second of giving his mother pleasure.

"Yessss…"

His fingers rub my walls as the moisture starts coating his knuckles and covering them in warm liquid. It feels enough for me, but my pussy's too greedy to be satisfied just with his fingers. I try my best to ignore my instinct to grab my boy by his head, hold him down between my legs, and make him give my pussy all he can with his mouth and his tongue.

My left hand stays on the back of his head, caressing the hair of the boy I gave birth to, the same who's trying hard to please me, while my other hand strokes my intimate tiny spot in the upper part of my cunt.

I take his head and move it down to my neck as I rub myself with the expertise of an older, horny, forty-something-year-old woman like me, while Jason keeps kissing me all over my skin.

I lift my sweater, dragging my bra with it, until they're right over my breasts, and I let the enormous mounds show up before my son's eyes, in their full glory, as his tongue continues making trails on my neck.

"Touch them, baby," I tell him.

The boy keeps getting out and back inside of my cunt, but lacks a bit of rhythm.

"Touch them," I command again after noticing the boy doesn't move his hand towards my exposed, large tits, even though his fascinated eyes are now on them. "Play with them," I whisper in a soft voice that comes out in a trembling tone.

My son does as his mother asks him and puts his free hand on the big, soft mounds on my chest, stroking the surface and moving it around in circles, making me grunt and sigh in a quiet, silenced voice as my body shakes just enough. Suppressed moans come out of my closed lips, as I hold them back as much as I can.

I'm close.

I know I'm close.

But once he begins using his mouth on my needy nipples, that's when I totally lose it. I try hard not to make a sound, but I feel my pussy leaking more liquid when the sensation of having this young fourteen-year-old licking my sensitive breasts gets into my brain.

That's when I realize I'm missing that very same sensation in a more private part of my body, one that could bring me to my orgasm and make me cum for him in no time.

Grabbing his face between my hands, his tongue hanging outside his mouth for a second, I kiss his lips with desire and lust for a brief moment. My eyes are half-closed and my hands are shaking around his face when I push him down with enough strength to make him take a hint of where I want him to be.

Jason looks back at my face and his eyes widen, realizing what I'm trying to do, and I sense a little bit of resistance in his body language. My head then gives him a lustful nod of approval, and the boy stares at my demanding expression.

"Please, baby," I beg, bringing his head closer to my most precious source of pleasure. "Put your mouth on it. On my pussy… On your mother's pussy."

The hesitant eyes on his face look down, right at the leaking mess in between my thighs. Then his gaze moves back to my own eyes. "But I don't know how to..."

"Do it. I'll show you. You'll do just fine," I look at him right in the eye. "You're my son, I'm sure you're going to be perfect."

My hips raise and lower as the young boy tries to figure out how to get between my legs, and I just keep panting when he puts his knees on the soft carpet below the couch and positions his head between my thighs. I place my hands over his head as I watch how close my baby's face is to my motherly slit, my lips completely exposed to my son's eyes.

"Mom, I've never..." He tries to tell me something, but I shut his mouth when I bring him closer to me, approaching my cunt into his face.

"I know. 'Course you haven't. Just do it, please," I plead to his innocent eyes as his hands grab the flesh of my thighs. "Use that precious mouth of yours, Jason."

I take a moment to look down between my legs, and I see the person I love the most, the person who means more to me than life itself, his cute face and eyes staring at the leaking mess in front of him, right above him, when his tense, virgin tongue sticks out of his mouth. I pull him into my pussy with my hand as his tongue goes straight for my slit. My eyes widen and I throw my head back to the couch again.

Fuck… The moment he makes contact with me, I feel his warm mouth, full of doubts, making the effort to pleasure my cunt in the best way possible.

Does he like my flavor? Does he like the way I smell?

In my mind I find images of those times he ate the delicious desserts I cooked for his birthday, and how he took a lot of time licking the spoon after tasting my cakes.

But now he doesn't have a spoon in his hand.

He just has a wet, cute tongue, a pair of full, pretty lips, and an eager mother against them, while he tastes the first cunt of his life, the one that's so ready for him.

The pussy that brought him to the world.

"Put your fingers inside me again, Jason."

This time it's his index and middle fingers that get into my cavity, and they go deeper than before when I raise my hips, trying to force my pussy against his young lips and tongue. His nose hides between the pubes surrounding the area of my slit, his warm breath adding to the intense sensations of my sex.

He tries to lick it like it's a popsicle, moving his tongue all over the place, with no technique whatsoever, just a frantic and nervous motion as he keeps tasting his mother.

And it's more than enough to make me feel good.

"Cover it, baby, cover it with your... With your lips," I demand, trying my best not to raise my hips, but failing since the need to do it is just so strong that I'm moving them constantly against his face. "Oh, God…!" I cover my mouth.

And there it is.

My cunt starts leaking way more than before all over his nose and chin. I feel his warm saliva coating the surface of my hood, mixing it with the dampening moisture that's dripping from me and filling my baby's mouth with its taste.

I grab his hair, not really conscious about what my body's doing at this point, my hips moving and rubbing against him, pushing my cunt into him like there's no tomorrow.

Fuuuuck!

How is it possible? Why is my little baby's face being bathed in his mother's fluids of cum, right here in the middle of my parents' house on a Christmas Eve night?

My lustful, watery juices start getting on the tip of his nose, right on his lips and cheeks, as my son licks my sex with all the finesse of a typical teenage, virgin boy who's completely clueless about what he's doing.

And I grind my pussy around his face violently, holding his head against it, almost suffocating him.

My body trembles in deep, warm pleasure. My extremities are in heat, and my thighs start squeezing his face hard when the ecstasy keeps going higher and higher in my womb. My legs shake around him, and his mother's palm presses harder against his hair as he tries to move away from the hard grip, but my mommy-instinct is making my hips charge at his face, forcing his tongue to keep licking and kissing me, like I'm feeding him.

I see him struggling a bit while I sense a muffled scream escaping from my throat. My whole body convulses when the wave of the first climax my boy's given me gets into my body and explodes through every inch of my skin. I hold Jason's face against my cunt as my hips shake uncontrollably and the pleasure comes and goes, just as quickly and passionately as it arrived, with the clear fluids of my climax leaking over the mouth that's pressed against the hood of my clit.

Jason's eyes catch glimpses of my massive, meaty tits trembling and vibrating on my chest, shaking when my body moves and jiggles in front of his young face. My rock-hard nipples are inflamed, like they're trying to pop out from my skin.

I keep shaking and grunting as quietly as I can. My legs keep holding the face of my fourteen-year-old baby as the orgasm hits my pussy and brings me a bit of an even more intense release.

"Shit, shit, shit...!" I keep on repeating, with my eyes wide and my head resting over the sofa, my back arching and my hands digging in his hair, keeping my boy's face pressed against my crotch, as he moves his head from one side to another to find some air from the vice-like grip his mom has on him. "Jason, shit...! Oh, baby!"

The most intense orgasm I've had in months – not months, years – starts fading slowly from my body, as I release him and feel the soft, smooth surface of the couch's back, right where my body relaxes.

Jason takes the opportunity to breathe as his mother keeps moving her hips over his face calmly. His mouth kind of tries to clean my groin, lapping at my flesh with a tongue that doesn't stop moving when his face is freed from his mother's grasp, and he does his best to keep his mouth attached to my pussy.

This boy…

Seconds later I feel able to control my breath while his head rests on my lap, his nose on top of my pubic bone, and my fingers still moving around his head.

'Fuck' is what my mind says when he keeps trying to hold his lips attached to my now sensitive sex, where his tongue goes back to my clit.

"Jason..." I say as the boy keeps on licking my groin and tasting his mother's cum with his tongue, while I keep running my fingers through his brown hair, making his mother-complex so much stronger than before. "Slow now, please, it's getting sore," I plead to my young boy with the kindest voice I can muster, after all the labor he made to make his mommy happy. "Come here..." I call him, lifting his face with my hands, bringing him next to my side.

The boy's face is drenched in a mixture of his mom's clear liquid, as well as saliva. His flawless, boyish cheeks have some strands of hair stuck to them, and it feels like the most wicked dream I could've ever imagined.

I'm speechless, and I just kiss him all over his face, licking and tasting the wetness of my own fluids.

"Fuck..." I mutter, looking right at the sweet face of my fourteen-year-old son, who gives me the same innocent look he carries when he shows me his good grades. "Fuck, baby, that was...! I can't put it into words, honey."

"Was it?"

I nod at him with a silly smile on my face. "Of course. Of course, it was! How can I explain this? This isn't something a mother gets from her little boy every day… Damn."

My lips don't leave him for a moment, but when my gaze goes down, I see something I don't think I ever thought would see on a night like this a few years ago.

The perfect gift.

A thick enough, hard bulge pressing against his blue jeans, in between the legs of my fourteen-year-old boy, a stiff cock ready for some Christmas fun, after all the effort he just put into making his mommy orgasm.

My hands work for me, trying to release the rod from its tight, confinement prison.

"Mom, you don't need to…"

"Oh, but I do."

Jason looks down when he sees what's about to happen. His hands don't stop mine, nor does his cock either, which throbs against my hands. I keep licking his lips, feeling his moans in my mouth, while his hands find their way back to my breasts.

The boy suddenly lifts his butt off the couch so that I can take the jeans down along with his briefs at the same time, and I find the precious toy I've been missing so much for the last twenty-two days.

Its smell hits me, that delicious boyish scent that gets to my nostrils as soon as I release his cock from its clothing confinement. A musky, heavy fragrance that only my baby boy is able to provide for my hungry senses, affecting me more than I can bear.

There it is, hard and shining, right before my eyes.

The most perfect penis I've ever seen. With its more than decent girth, long even, with its head peeking out of the foreskin, covered in pre-cum, and looking very hard for my lips. There's just some hair at the base, and it seems to match the young, thin body of the boy who has that marvelous creature in the middle of his thighs.

"Mom..." I hear him moaning as I rub his shaft carefully now, but squeezing it hard enough.

"Yes, baby," I mutter between our kisses. "Let me play with it."

I hold the young cock in my hand, where it should always be from now on, stroking its glans in a gentle and slow motion.

A very tender, motherly teasing.

"Did you miss this?" I whisper in his ear. "Did you miss mommy playing with your dick?" I kiss his jaw, his lips trembling while the young man tries not to lose focus. "I'm so sorry for what I did. For hurting my little boy's feelings like that," my words are sweet like honey in his ear as I rub his penis gently, trying not to make him cum too early. "I wish I had known you missed your mother this much, sweetie. I'm sorry, Jason. I'll make up it to you, baby."

His cock leaks, the foreskin completely rolled down by now, with the tip of his erection pulsating under my grip.

"Tell me, baby. I need to know. Was it hard? All these weeks without your mom?" I ask, but Jason doesn't seem to know what to say.

"Uhh..." The fourteen-year-old struggles with his words.

"Don't lie, you can tell me," I tell him. "Did you touch yourself?"

"I… I did. Just... Just a couple of times, M-Mom."

"Just a couple of times…! But why?" I inquire with a smile on my lips, as I move my hand down, towards his balls, playing with them over the surface, clawing my nails on them.

"It... It just wasn't the same, Mom," he mumbles in the middle of his short breaths. "It's better... It's much better like this. When you... Do it for me."

"I bet," I claim, rubbing his young scrotum.

He moans, moving his head towards my breasts, and I take them to his mouth, giving him the freedom to use my nipples for his own pleasure, which he does with so much delight.

"Did you use my pictures?" I ask him.

The young man looks at me with his blue, lustful eyes, as I see how his cheeks get even more red. He nods quickly in response and I giggle when I think about him masturbating over his mom's naked body.

"It's all right, sweetie," I reassure him, stroking the young dick with one hand and his chest with the other. "Now it's time your cruel mother pays back, right? She needs to pay back for all that suffering, for neglecting your young, beautiful cock like that... What do you say, baby? Do you want me to do it?"

Jason's eyes get teary. He just nods and kisses me right on my generous bosoms again. His cock throbs when I stroke his shaft, my fingers feeling the warm hardness that has so much precum on top, a constant leaking of fluid that runs over my long fingers.

Just like that, my body leans on his, my lips on his mouth again, forcing his body to lie back on the sofa, on his back. He's not surprised when I start moving my face towards the poor, needy member that lies on top of his navel, pointing right at his mother's face when she's only a few inches from the moistened head.

I look at him from the corner of my eye, and I observe he has a curious gaze that tries not to miss any detail of me. I see how his young face blushes and he seems nervous at first when he realizes where my mouth is heading.

"Mom, I…"

"Shh, don't start."

I press my pouty lips on top of the hard, leaking cock, and the look on his face is completely different when he feels how they linger all over over the swollen head of his sensitive manhood. I see how the lust takes over when my tongue, alive on its own, gets out of my mouth and tastes teenage-flavored fluids.

"Oh, Mom," I hear him say with a trembling, weak voice that seems to be filled with anticipation of what his mommy is about to do for him.

My very wet tongue slides all over the surface of his smooth, flawless shaft, his veins barely noticeable, moving towards the bottom of the hard dick, my nose rubbing his hairy pubis while I taste the young, warm skin.

He just lays there, letting me enjoy him, my hands stroking the thighs and legs that tremble below me, his mother's eyes fixed on his face when my lips move back to the top and I wrap the whole head in my mouth, with the salty flavor coating my taste buds as I slide my tongue slightly under the foreskin, moving the tip inside of it, to rub it on the sensitive head of his manhood.

My son shrinks suddenly, and I let out a short giggle when he almost kicks me.

"Ticklish?" I ask him.

"Mom, it... Feels weird," he moans when I rub his young cock again.

"You'll get used to it."

The young man nods and I feel so honored to see his face reacting like this. "Your mouth… It's like... It's warm. I don't know," he mumbles when he takes a look down again.

"Then let's keep it warm, all right?" I claim with a smile on my lips.

And just like that, I imprison pretty much the whole thing in my mouth, all hard, and this time I try my best to pleasure my son with every single skill I've got in the matter of blowing a hard penis, using all my knowledge to bring my son to the same point he brought me, with a hot orgasm that's just waiting to come out.

I tighten my lips around it, not letting my teeth brush against the perfect skin of the cock that fills my mouth so much, my tongue constantly in action as I suck his hardness with a very soft touch, with enough strength to make the young man moan for me, but with no effort at all so I can make it last long and sweet enough.

It's different when I suck off my baby's dick, I'm sure of it. There's a different feeling in my body, the sensation of taking care of this young, sweet penis, my fingers around the thick member, my other hand clawing on his leg, as I bob my head up and down, moaning quietly like I'm nourishing from the most delicious thing that a woman could ever feed from.

His moans don't sound as strong and loud as mine were when I fucked his mouth earlier. They come out like little growls that make my pussy pulse even more, and when I look up and see the pleasure taking over my little boy's body, my pussy starts getting wet again.

It's no surprise that I feel him shuddering quickly, his cock throbbing inside of my mouth, harder than ever, like he's ready to shoot his load any second now. My hands move down to his testicles again, while the cock slides in and out of my mouth with the greatest pleasure.

"Mom, I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

I take that as an order.

"Do it. Let's not waste it."

I increase my love and passion as I suck the cock that belongs to the young man I raised. My head moves faster and my tongue gets to work too, as the pressure inside of him becomes too much for the teenager.

My baby boy's dick begins swelling a little before a big throb takes over, and then my son starts moaning at the same time I feel a gush of boiling sperm being shot inside of my mouth.

"Oh, Mom!" He cries in a whisper when my mouth gets flooded by missiles of the young seed of a fourteen-year-old boy.

The first taste is more intense and powerful than any other time I've tasted his semen before. I'd even say it's thicker than any cum I've tried, as it sticks to the roof of my mouth and under my tongue, covering every single inch with a sticky, thick, salty, white juice.

My lips suck the thick glans to make sure my baby keeps his cock inside his mother's mouth for a long time, tasting the warm seed. There's so much to swallow that some of it drips from the corner of my lips, but my fingers quickly go up to collect the white substance and bring it back into my mouth.

"Mom... Mom… Mom…" He prays, still in awe from the very first blowjob he's been given in his short life.

I gotta say, this is one hell of a first Christmas present for me.

I realize his hand is holding my arm softly, as my head moves back to take a good look at his satisfied face.

I swallow it all. I swallow every drop of his seed in a gulp, and then I take my mouth away from his manhood, smiling like an idiot as I give his penis a last lick, cleaning the whole pink, swollen area.

"Delicious," I swear to my son, caressing the skin of his stomach under the Christmas sweater, my other hand still stroking him gently, playing with his penis, his testicles, and his pubes.

I can see how my baby's still in a bliss of his own, his cock twitching slightly in the aftershock of the intense orgasm he's just had, right before his mother's face, when I let out a loud sigh as I rub the still-erect cock in between his legs.

And then, footsteps.

…

Shit.

Footsteps!

Someone's coming.

Someone's coming down the stairs and I need to stop moving my hands on him.

"Oh, fuck!" My son grunts in a whispery tone, with his eyes wide and scared. "Mom…!"

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I react quickly, grabbing all of our clothes and throwing them to the seats on the couch. I fix my sweater as well as I can, trying to fix the wrinkled, damp clothes with my hands and I sit on the sofa in less than a second. Jason's still there, but he hasn't moved yet from his original position, and his eyes seem to be going all over the place.

The movie is still on, and I can't believe I fucking forgot about the fucking Cameron Diaz during this whole time until now. I don't know if the noises were heard upstairs, but I can't help feeling very self-conscious in this fucked-up situation.

The smell in the room.

The sweat on my forehead.

The sweat on Jason's forehead!

The look on my son's face, all blushed and a bit disoriented after a first blowjob he didn't expect today.

And the taste of cum.

His cum.

In my mouth.

I take the blanket that's on the floor and spread it all over both of our bodies, completely naked from the waist down, when I hear my sister's voice as she steps on the carpet of the living room.

"Hi there!" Lauren says from behind us. "Sorry to interrupt. I forgot to bring my presents to the tree downstairs for tomorrow," my sister informs us, but I don't dare look at her, with my mind and body going in overdrive right now.

Say something. Now.

"Oh, it's okay, sis. You didn't interrupt anything," I say in a convincing, casual, nonchalant tone. "We were just... Watching The Holiday together."

I attempt not to make any movements and stay completely still, with Jason next to me and his eyes going to his aunt walking to the Christmas tree.

My sister carries three boxes in her arms and places them under the tree, with a little smirk on her face as she turns her head to look at us while she does it. The only thing I can see is that the biggest one has the name 'Jason' on it.

Does her face show any sign of suspicion? No, I don't think so.

Can she smell what we did? I don't know. Possibly.

I know my face is probably still red from my own orgasm, and because of the effort I made sucking my son's cock. Jason's nervousness is very obvious, but the light in the room doesn't let much to see, as it's too dark now and the Christmas lights are misleading.

"Nice choice," Lauren says, moving her head to look at the screen, and the smile on her face stays the same. "I'll leave you to it, then. I can tell you're nearing the end. Good night!" And with that, my sister's back upstairs, leaving the door open behind her, just like she did when she was a child.

I release a long sigh as the tension in my body vanishes slowly, but when I look at Jason he seems like he's in another place in his mind, his face pale as a ghost, and his body all stiff, while I move the blanket from him and try to calm him down, searching for a response from him.

"Baby, are you okay?" I ask him softly.

He looks at me with his innocent blue eyes. "Is she... Did she..."

"She didn't."

I feel him shivering against my palm.

"Oh, God... I thought I was gonna..." He takes a deep breath and looks back at his mother.

I hold his hand and bring him into a warm hug, to end up kissing him tenderly on his frightened lips.

"You need to chill. Everything's okay," I assure him, stroking his face. "Your aunt is kind of spacey, she's always been. I'm pretty sure she doesn't suspect a thing."

"Pretty… sure?"

"Absolutely sure."

"Yeah... But, like... If she had come in earlier and seen us..."

"Baby," I shut him up by kissing him again on the mouth. "She didn't. Now put your clothes on so we can go to bed safely." I feel Jason's pulse still beating fast against his mother's hand. "Go."

He grabs the blue jeans and the underwear, putting them on as I dress in my clothes as well.

"I don't wanna see my aunt tomorrow," the young man whispers in the darkness of the living room as I turn off the TV.

"You're gonna see your aunt tomorrow, Jason, and she'll act the same way she always does," I finish fixing the last button of my pants and get up, leading him to the stairs and then to our room, holding his hand.

I get in with him and close the door, looking at the young face of the boy in front of me as he leans against the mattress of our bed. I feel like a bit of guilt gets into me as I see him looking so vulnerable and worried.

"I know how you feel, baby. And I feel the same way. We can't keep doing this with them around, Jason," I tell my boy, despite knowing it was me the one who pushed his hand between my legs. "It's... Too risky. Tonight was fun, but too risky."

My son's eyes move up and he just looks at me, standing before him, trying not to make too much noise, with his face showing an innocent fear that makes me feel really bad for the fourteen-year-old.

"Okay, Mom," the look on his face tells me he's a little less scared of that idea.

I sit on the edge of the mattress and take his head with my hands to give him a warm, long kiss on his lips.

"Are you comfortable with what just happened downstairs?" I ask him in a quiet tone, rubbing his hair. "You seemed pretty excited in the middle of the action, but... Any second thoughts?"

I caress his cheeks as I search for a reaction in his face. "I... It felt really good, Mom. You saw me. But it was weird. It... It's not like in the videos, you know?"

"It's never like in the videos," I chuckle, keeping a low voice. "I'm afraid I was a little too rough when you were... Eating me. I kinda held you down too hard... Sorry for that," I tell my son, though my inner thoughts remind me he was pretty hard after almost suffocating him against my pussy lips.

"No, it was... I'm fine, Mom, really," he says with his angelic tone.

"Good," I rub his neck, caressing his chest with my other hand. "Many men don't like to do that."

"Well, I don't mind it," my son says and I see the slightest blush in his cheeks when he says it, completely sincere with his mother. "The taste was strong though, to be honest."

"Hey! I taste wonderful!" I say with a soft tone in my voice, tickling him under his ribs.

"I-I know...! You do, Mom. It's... It's just different. It was new."

"You'll get used to it in no time. I can promise you that," I make it sound like it's a threat.

"Does that mean..." Jason starts saying something, but his words stop at that, like he's struggling with the right question.

"I guess it does. It'll need to be more secret than ever now though. We need to be really, really careful, okay?" I inform him, and the fourteen-year-old nods to his mom. "I don't want anything happening to my boy," I assure him with my voice filled with care as I stroke his cheek.

Jason looks back at me. "It's okay, Mom. I can... I can do that."

"I love you," I whisper to him with the warmest smile. "Go pee, get cleaned up, and change into your pajamas so we can go to sleep."

He gives me a timid nod. "Okay."

"Now," I demand.

"A-All right, Mom," he says as he gets up from the bed.

My gaze follows the sight of my son's firm back and butt until he gets to the bathroom, leaving the door open. I hear him taking off his clothes and when I stand up from the mattress I feel the familiar dampness in my pussy that comes back as I watch the reflection of my baby in the mirror from outside, peeing right there as my eyes devour the sight of that delicious, young skin and the most beautiful sore penis I've ever seen.

As I remove my own clothes and throw them onto the dresser, I can't help but have a million questions running through my mind, and they pretty much have the same uncertain answers as always. However, there's one thing I can say with certainty:

I fucking love Christmas Holiday.

Chapter 13: A Cheeky Christmas Day

Notes:

Hey everyone! Can't believe we're already at 13 chapters of Samantha's New Life. One more, but also one step closer to the end.

I've got some good news and bad news. The good news is I've got the ending pretty well figured out, though I still need to give it a couple more thoughts. The bad news (for anyone reading this, not for me, I guess) is that starting next month, I'll be having two jobs. Publication pace might slow down a bit, but you know how life is, a person needs to eat. Hope you understand.

That's it, and as always, I'll be reading your comments!

Chapter Text

The gloomy and cold morning light reaches my eyes and wakes me up gently, my vision coming and going until I blink a couple of times.

I feel my son's warm body right next to mine, just some inches away from my own. He's still sleeping soundly when I run my hand through his short brown hair and give him a soft kiss on his undisturbed forehead. He makes a little noise and shifts a little on the mattress.

The grayish light of the day in the room makes his pretty, smooth, youthful features show in a whole different way than they did last night. My eyes run over his face, from top to bottom, his body only covered by his pajamas and the lovely pink eiderdown. My fingers move to his cheek, stroking the soft skin, when the memory of his innocent mouth working my grown-up cunt comes into my mind.

His pretty lips move as he breathes.

And this is hands down the best sleep I've had in months.

We must have had like six hours of sleep tops, but surprisingly, it feels like it's enough. I can't remember the last time I slept this well, honestly. Having Jason by my side has probably made a huge difference.

Our feet are intertwined in a sweet snuggle, pulling our legs in real close and looking for the warmth of our lower extremities. I keep goofing around with his face for a bit, just feeling him take air, and the heated breath coming out of him after that.

He then starts to wake up and his eyes pop open, slow at first, blinking a few times, and when he spots his mom right there beside him, the kid lets out this tiny yawn.

"Merry Christmas," I whisper.

His arms emerge from beneath the eiderdown, encircling my back and finding the cozy space on my shoulder. We're all tangled up now, legs and everything, and I give his back a little rub over his comfy pajamas, then plant a sweet kiss on his temple.

"I'm cold," the boy says with a hoarse voice, and I can see the small shivers of his body as he snuggles even closer to me.

He's cold, but I'm going to melt.

My arm hugs him instantly, pressing his face to my chest as he gives me a cute moan when I hold his trembling body. His hand runs up in search of mine, and we lace our fingers together while my son looks into my eyes with an innocent face that I just want to devour.

"No 'Merry Christmas' to me? It's Christmas, honey."

I place another kiss on his nose, feeling the subtle shift in his posture as he starts to relax. A small smile graces the face of my young man. "Merry Christmas, Mom," he says, resting his head on my barely covered breasts as his face looks up at me.

My lips meet his, giving him the softest of kisses. My free hand moves around the boy's back, touching him with my fingertips, and the teenager makes a funny noise with his mouth as I kiss him over and over.

"So," I ask my boy when our lips are apart again, with my hand moving towards his head again to play with his short hair. "Are we okay?"

"Yeah, for sure. Yeah," he says, shifting his body to snuggle up even closer. "I'm not going to freak out, I swear."

I stroke his head, holding it gently. "You sure? Last night you seemed worried about my sister."

He lets out a breath. "Well, it's not every day your aunt walks in on you doing what we were doing, Mom."

I chuckle. "No, it's not."

My breath blows the soft hair on his forehead. We cuddle for a little while longer, just a couple of minutes, enjoying our bodies holding onto one another.

"We should get up," I finally say.

"Mom..." Jason calls for my attention with a sleepy face, a slight pout in his mouth as he fights to keep his eyes open. "Do we have to? I just don't feel like leaving this bed anytime soon."

How could I refuse to do that if my heart is burning with pride and love?

"Okay. I think we can afford a few minutes here," I tell my son in a whisper.

My hand brings the eiderdown over us again to cover the boy from the cold that's present in the room, and we're like this for a few minutes. I barely notice when he starts dozing off again, so what I say wakes him up once more.

"A moment like this… It brings back memories, you know?"

Jason moves his head. "It does?"

"Definitely. You might not remember, but I do. Your dad and I had this big fight, and I obviously made him crash on the couch. You were like six or seven, I think, all bummed out because your dad had hurt me, and you asked if you could sleep with me," I recall to my son, memories flooding back. "You can guess what happened, right? Of course, my weak heart melted when I saw you all angry at your dad. So sad for me. It took you seconds to make yourself at home against me, just like you did right now."

"I do remember sleeping with you sometimes when I was little."

"Sometimes? You practically lived in my bed until you turned five," I chuckle, giving his arm a playful pat. "Then your dad got tired of you crashing in our bed every night, going on about how 'the boy needs to sleep in his own bed' and shit like that," I share, mimicking what my ex-husband used to say.

"Well, he was kinda right."

"I guess, but I didn't wanna let go. You were one spoiled kid," I say with a lighthearted tone. "I've been itching to have my boy back in my arms ever since your dad took you out of my bed."

"I guess I'm still a bit of a spoiled kid," Jason jokes.

What does he mean? Is he talking about last night?

"Oh, you are, but in a whole different way," I chuckle, stroking his neck. "Speaking of which… Kiss me?"

My son complies, bringing his lips to mine. He still has morning breath, but it doesn't really bother me since I've tasted much dirtier things from him on my lips.

We make out for a while longer in the morning bliss, our hands exploring each other's bodies under the cover, until I find his hardening manhood in between his legs and slide my hand inside of his pants and underwear to give the warm penis some tender attention. Jason moans a few times into his mom's mouth, while his young hips begin moving to rub against the hand that's stroking his cock slowly and in a calm, steady way.

"Up for some morning fun?" I ask with a mischievous tone in my voice as his hard dick twitches under my palm.

His lips let a low groan out.

"Mom, seriously, it's only been a few hours..." He mumbles.

"Since what? Since I sucked on you? I think those balls are full already," I joke.

"No, Mom. Since you told me we gotta be careful," he claims with a playful tone, breathing on the upper part of my chest and looking right at my eyes. "What happened to that?"

"I guess you just have the magical power of making me change my mind, honey," I say with a giggle.

"And I guess that's one heck of a power," my son responds, giving a long kiss to my neck.

Oh, fuck… The dirty talk.

I rub him in silence, massaging him, letting the softness of his sensitive glans and his warm flesh be all I focus on for a while, as we enjoy each other's bodies with no rush at all, in a loving and slow motion that gets him more and more aroused every time.

Suddenly, his tentative hand slides under my loose nightgown. The fourteen-year-old gasps a bit, taking in a breath at the sensation of touching his mom's warm, mature love handles, making me feel a little self-conscious, thinking of how I'm not used to him doing that. His hands start rubbing me slowly and gently, lustfully, and I help him find the way to my breasts as he squeezes my flesh and teases my hard, sensitive nipples.

And then, out of nowhere, we start hearing people bustling around outside our room. Looks like everyone's up and heading downstairs for a tasty Christmas breakfast.

"Presents, presents, presents!" Lauren's voice echoes through the wall. "Get up, it's Christmas, everyone!"

My sister's unbridled excitement for presents doesn't seem to fade with age, and her enthusiasm fills the entire house. As others in the house begin to awaken and join my sister, Jason remains fixated on the door, and then he shoots me a shy look, but I simply shake my head, not releasing his cock yet.

"Mom, now I really think it's time to get up."

"Does he agree?" I ask, squeezing his cock.

He smiles shyly at his mother's playful teasing. "I guess he doesn't, but… what can we do? If they knock on the door and..."

I keep on playfully messing with his penis, teasing it gently, and he gives me a sweet look. His hands are now paralyzed under my gown, not really giving my tits as much attention, and I can't help but feel a tinge of sadness.

But he has a point.

"Guess that's right," I whisper to my boy, releasing the thick manhood from the grasp of my fingers. I carefully fix his pajamas and speak on. "I mean, it'd be really rude of us not to go out there and share this lovely day with our family," I give my baby another kiss, this time a long and deep one, with a slight brush of our tongues. "Come on, and be ready to act like yesterday's was the most average Christmas Eve ever. Especially in front of your Aunt. That's today's big challenge for us both."

"Yes, Mom."

We both get off the bed, and the first thing Jason does is grab his phone and power it up again. As it lights up with notifications, I take a second to stretch, and he shoots a look back at his mom as his device starts beeping a few times, showing his girl tried to text him during the night.

That damn girl.

And that fucking phone again.

Then he heads off to the bathroom while I fix the covers on the mattress and put some slippers on. When he comes out a few seconds later, my eyes catch the sight of his still-hard cock bouncing with every step he takes towards his suitcase looking for clothes.

"You better do something to get that thing there down, young man. You can't go downstairs like that."

He looks down at his penis, and I see a faint blush on his cheeks. "It's not that easy, you know?"

"Oh, please!" I protest with a laugh. "It'll go down. Just think about Steve's feet."

Jason makes a grimace in response. "Ewww, gross! What the hell?"

I give a casual shrug, quickly tying my hair back in a ponytail and chuckling at the funny expression of the young man, while he shakes his head a few times and stares at me with a weird smile.

That look, though… It's one of those things that always gets me.

"No way! A PS5!" Jason practically yells as he tears open the big package that Lauren and Steve got him. "Are you serious?!" The boy's face lights up when he spots the white box. He leaps off the couch and immediately wraps his arms around his aunt and uncle in pure excitement.

I can't believe my attention whore of a sister bought him a fucking PlayStation.

"Yeah, yeah. We figured you deserved an upgrade after pulling off that A last semester," Lauren mentions casually, shrugging. She then looks at my son with kindness in her voice, "After all the changes you've been through this year, we thought a little stress relief might do you good. And let's face it, we know your mom's not swimming in cash like she used to."

My jaw literally hits the floor when I hear that.

Seriously? Who do they think I am now that my husband's out of the picture? Just because he's gone, do they think I'm automatically strapped for cash? I mean, it's not like I've bought a freaking Ferrari in the last six months, but I have a damn good job. What is that supposed to mean?

"Thank you so much, Aunt Lauren, you didn't have to!" He's beaming as he holds the box in his hands, with a smile so big and a blush that fills me with jealousy for not thinking of buying him it myself. "And thank you too, Uncle Steve," the fourteen-year-old sits back down.

The PS5 is something that's been in demand for almost a year. I kind of figured it was just a passing whim for him, one of those things that'd lose its charm in a few weeks, but it looks like my little sister really knows how to win my son over with gifts.

And now I'm the one who looks bad for getting him a winter coat and some fucking earphones.

"It's the least you deserve, Jase," my brother-in-law says.

My body language shows the most bitter expression I can show as I cross my legs on the sofa, right in between the armrest and my son.

"Aw, that's really nice of you, Lauren," I say, trying to sound chill, but honestly, I'm feeling a bit annoyed with myself for not being as great at this cool-mom thing as my little sister is with her presents.

Lauren knows me well too and I'm sure she must be reading my pissed-off expression pretty well. So, she just smiles back at me all calm when she spots my face. "He totally deserves it, you know that," my sister tells me with her usual confidence. To the rest of the family, all they see is her being all sweet to the overjoyed kid.

"'Course he does. He's earned it," I reply with my fakest smile.

When it's my turn to open gifts – a painting book from my parents and a couple of books my sister got me – I'm totally floored to find yet another present for me, this time in a small, little box.

"Oh, dear...," I say in a gasp, with my heart in my hand, as my eyes fix on the boy beside me on the sofa, and his look betrays his pride that this present has his invisible signature on it.

My son's not really one for buying me Christmas gifts, and in fact, this is the very first time he does. He's given me a few things on my birthdays in the past, nothing fancy and mostly something to save the date, but I feel this time it's different.

A pretty clear sign that Jason is growing up.

My fingers go up and pull the golden bow in the middle of the present and then take the cover of the small box, which turns out to be an elegant jewelry case. My hands barely shake as I open it to find a very simple, yet elegant necklace, made with a thin silver chain, and with a pendant in the form of a heart at the bottom of it.

I suppose Jason probably saved the money to buy it for me, and even if it doesn't look something expensive, the fact he took his own time, savings, and thought of something to give me for Christmas – even considering we weren't speaking to each other while he planned all this –, it fills my chest with an overwhelming joy I didn't know I was waiting for so much.

Where did he come up with the money? I haven't handed him any allowance since we had that big fight.

"Aren't you a little charmer?" My mother says in the distance.

"Oh, Jason! It's beautiful!" my sister shouts with an over-exaggerated tone of excitement as I hold the jewelry case in my hands.

"Yeah, Jasey, you're going to be a heartbreaker pretty soon if you keep those standards," Steve laughs, giving a tap on my son's shoulder.

Jason smiles sheepishly, looking down for a second and then back up at his mom.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's... Truly lovely," I'm genuinely pleased. "I... I have to admit, I didn't think you'd bring me any present... Thank you, baby," I lean and plant a simple, maternal smooch on his lips, which is no big deal for my family since they're pretty used to it.

My hands can't wait to try it on, but that's something the gift giver should always do.

"You should put it on me, baby," I ask.

Instead, Jason is momentarily startled by a message on his phone screen, and his attention shifts away from me for a second.

"Jason, put it on me?" I beg my son, and turn around, giving him my back. "Jason, put down the phone and pay attention to me."

"Sure, Mom," he says, leaving the phone on the couch again.

His clumsy hands brush against my skin, sending shivers down my spine when I move my hair aside so he can close the pendant around my neck.

I'm sure this moment has a much deeper meaning to me and my son than my family must imagine. To them, this is probably nothing but a small moment between us. To me instead, it's a sign that we're really getting back on track, that I still have his heart in my hand, and he's letting me hold it tight.

The 'click' sound tells me it's in its place, and my hands go to touch the cold metal heart as I feel my own chest beating hard and fast against my ribcage.

I've never been a big fan of wearing too much jewelry, but now I'm sort of excited to rock the cool gift my awesome kid just gave me. It's like I want everyone to see how much my son loves me. And he sure is observant; picking a necklace over earrings or a bracelet shows he's actually pretty in tune with his mom's style, more than I gave him credit for.

His expression looks proud and pleased when I see the necklace shining against my cleavage, finding its place between the beginning of the line that divides my tits.

"Looks amazing on you," Lauren claims when my gaze follows hers and I take a look at the pendant. "Just the right spot to make those massive tits of yours stand out!"

"Lauren!," my mother scolds, while Jason looks away a little too quick, probably blushing under my sister's naughty comment.

"You know me so well," I respond to my sister with a wide, proud smile on my face. "I'm gonna wear it all the time from now on," I tell the room, and my fingers move to my boy's thigh to give him a soft caress, at the same time my lips end up kissing him again on the corner of his mouth. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, Mom."

Ugh, that stupid phone is quickly becoming annoying, always in my son's hand.

I just can't wrap my head around it. There's definitely something wrong about Jason's generation and their never-ending obsession with those damn phones. It's like they're superglued to them, never a break from the screen's glow. It's bad enough on a regular day, but on a day like this? Seriously? We're at the big lake near my parents' house, like every Christmas day afternoon, surrounded by family, and what's he doing? Fixated on that tiny screen, like he's in a whole other world.

For fuck's sake! The sound of his fingers tapping on the screen is beyond me.

And then there's that fucking girl on the other side of his chat. Well, let's just say she seems to have an uncanny ability to distract my Jason from what truly matters, which is me. I mean, not only me but his family too, obviously.

I get why a fourteen-year-old like Jason would be thrilled about a first relationship with a girl his age, but seriously, can they ever stop texting each other?

Back in my day, teenagers looked forward to moments like these, soaking up the talks and laughs with loved ones on a cool day, drinking hot chocolate, and sipping spiked eggnog, enjoying the views of a beautiful, natural sight like this one.

Now it's all TikToks, emojis, abbreviations, memes, and stupid, superficial chats about nothing at all. It's Christmas, after all, a time to bond with family, to be present and create new memories; not to drown in empty chatter.

Am I crazy for thinking like that?

My own cell phone buzzes too, revealing a message from Mario, wishing me a Merry Christmas and sharing some pictures of his own family back home. I quickly tap on them to check them out and write a simple answer, with my attention immediately coming back to my boy.

Who am I even trying to convince? I'm probably being a tiny bit unjust with him. After all, I'm constantly on my phone too.

To be fair, Jason probably isn't any different from his peers when it comes to exposing themselves to the Internet, but at least he seemed to know how to turn off the screen and focus on his environment and on others when we were doing something fun. These last days, however, the phone – and especially that bitch – always seem to be the number one priority.

"Dear Lord, Sam, stop treating him like a baby all the time," my sister says when I use a napkin to clean his chocolate-stained mouth, my son still using his phone. "He's fourteen!"

Here we go again with this shit.

I roll my eyes to Lauren, sitting in front of me at the picnic table we're sharing. "I don't care he's fourteen, Lauren. He's still my son. I've told you a thousand times," I snap at my sister. "You don't mind, right baby?" I turn my head to him, but Jason is completely unaware of the fact that we're talking about him, too busy with his chatting. "Jason!"

"W-what?" He mumbles when I call him again, looking up from the screen.

"Don't 'what' me!" I scold my son. "Did you hear what I just said? It's rude, what you're doing."

The young man's gray-blue eyes open a bit wider for a second, terrified of his mom's anger, before he sets his phone down on the table, probably more from fear than actually feeling bad. "Uh… I did, yeah. I don't mind you doing that, Mom," Jason tells me and smiles.

I turn my face to stare at my sister and raise an eyebrow at her. "See? It doesn't bother him," I inform her. "What's the big deal?"

"There's no big deal. Just that you don't seem to notice how clingy you're getting," Lauren says bluntly, taking another bite of her muffin.

"She's right, Sam. I still can't believe how tight-knit you two are," Steve says. "Back when I was Jason's age, my mom had no clue where I was most of the time."

"That's because you were a pain in the ass," Lauren snaps and points in Steve's direction. "But, seriously, Sam, it's almost like you don't trust the kid or something, always wanting to be up his business like that. You can chill and let him do his thing sometimes."

Does she have to say that in front of my son?

"Laurie, sweetheart, let your sister be," my father says from the other side of the table, defending me. "I love that she cares so much for her boy. He's lucky to have a mother who loves him that much."

Jason seems to be getting a little bit uncomfortable with the conversation.

Lauren shakes her head, sighing. "Look, I'm not saying she's a bad mom, but it's like... Ever since the divorce, she's been acting like she's worried he'll run off if she's not glued to him."

My sister's words make me clench my teeth. "That's bullshit and you know it. The damn divorce hasn't changed me one bit, Lauren. I've been like this since the very moment I held him in my hands," I spit the words back at her.

"M-Mom, there's no need to get upset..." Jason intervenes, a worried expression showing on his face. "I don't want to see you two fight over this, seriously. Aunt Lauren, I'm telling you, it's cool. I don't mind my mom's like that. She's always been like that. It's… It's okay, really," he reassures us, stepping away from the table, surprisingly leaving his phone on the bench where he and I are sitting. "We're just here to have fun, okay? I'll be right back, nature calls for a quick pit stop," he says, trying to ease the tension with a quip.

I scoff when I listen to that, not taking my eyes off his body when he makes that excuse, and I notice a hint of nervousness in my baby's steps toward the small restroom cabin next to the bar.

"See? This is how much you can get under his skin, making a scene like this," I say to my sister.

"Okay, okay!" My nosy sister lifts her hands in a sign of peace. "I'm just trying to give some advice. Sweet Jesus!"

"Advice? You bought him a fucking PlayStation and you didn't even ask me anything about it first," I snap. "You're not trying to give any advice, you're just too busy being the cool, carefree aunt."

"Seriously? You're going to fault me for that? You're acting like it's some huge thing, Sam. You actually believe we got him that present just to show off? The kid deserved something for keeping his grades up. I mean, he hasn't seen his dad in like, four months, for fuck's sake!" she insists, still sitting in front of me on the picnic table.

I chuckle angrily. "Of course, there's no way you wouldn't mention John. That's low, even for you," I accuse, pointing at my sister, and my tone turns icy. "Let me tell you something, little sister. You don't have children. You have no fucking idea what you're talking about."

I see Lauren's mouth drop open.

"Alright, that's enough! Can we please stop now? It's Christmas Day. What's the point of these stupid arguments?" My mom chimes in as she always does to end any fight. "Samantha, why don't you take a walk and clear your head?"

Oh, yeah, my mom thinking I'm the one who sparked this whole thing. How obvious!

In the heat of the battle, I glance at the left-alone cell phone on the wooden, freezing bench, and a naughty smile takes over my face when I think of something I've never dared do before.

"That's convenient, Mom. You always manage to take the same side," I complain, looking away from Lauren's face. "But that's the smartest idea I've heard all day."

My hand finds Jason's phone, and when I quickly look up again and notice no one has a clear view of my arm, I discreetly tuck it into my winter coat as I stand up, ready to get some air and let out all my steam.

What the fuck am I doing?

I don't even know why Lauren makes me so angry. Well, no, that's not true, I do know; it's the fact that she's always there, being critical and telling me how to be a better mother when she isn't even a mother herself, when she's the one who never wants to have children because of her work. And now she's telling me what to do with my own kid.

If she only knew what I actually do with my own kid...

Fuck her.

I start walking among the tall pine trees by the vast surface of water, hearing the other families and people having their own fun at the lake park, listening to the soft noise of my steps as they touch the green grass around the lake, while I keep my hands inside the pockets of my coat, holding the device tightly with my right hand.

The breeze that reaches my skin is refreshing and helps me clear my head a little bit more, to help me let go of the frustration my sister always puts inside of my mind, every time she has to open her damn mouth.

I might be overreacting a little bit, I know. It's not like she's actually criticizing me or Jason, or trying to be mean to me, she's just... Oh, fuck. Why does it feel like she's giving me a reality check?

A harsh, bitter, reality check.

But I've been pretty clear from the very beginning – I'm not going to change just because some people have this weird opinion of what a mother should act like.

My hand instinctively moves to the necklace around my neck, and a smile creeps across my face as thoughts of Jason flood my mind – his expression when he gave me the gift, and the look we exchanged when we had our fun earlier in the morning. It's just really nice to know we're moving forward and putting that silly argument behind us.

The same argument where I smacked him so hard, it still haunts me with shame and regret.

The trees surrounding the area hide the sight of others from the park, but I'm sure they can see me walking if they look through them, and this little bit of risk, the fact I have his phone in my coat and I'm walking away from everyone, is giving me the chills as I walk to a place with fewer people and some more trees.

When I feel there's enough distance, my hand fishes inside the coat to find the phone.

And I look at it like I'm the fucking Gollum, the creature staring at the Ring.

It was only twenty-four hours ago that I felt so prepared to forgive myself – and my son – for inflicting such deep pain on him all this time. It was only yesterday that that I believed I had enough faith in my heart, that I'd finally summon the courage to put an end to all of that guilt I've been carrying ever since I started behaving the way I probably should have never behaved.

The guilt, the pain, and the constant question haunting me: am I really this depraved and sick, to want my own son so badly? Am I this horrible shit of a mother, for having fantasized for months about letting my desire for him take me over, to the point I did the things I never thought I would?

Do I still love my son more than I love myself?

…

Fuck. What am I thinking? Of course, I do. I love him more than anything in this meaningless world. But shit, why can't I help feeling this urge to know about what this device in my hand must be hiding inside?

My fingers touch the phone and the lock screen comes up to me, and even if the moral dilemma is still there, it doesn't take me more than a few seconds to start typing my guesses for the pin.

His birthday? I give it a shot.

Nope.

My own birthday? Obviously not.

'Amanda'? Not even close.

The day we kissed for the first time? It should be that one! But it isn't.

"Dammit!" I swear under my breath. "You really don't want me to get in there, do you, baby?" I mutter and keep on trying random things, in the most random order I can think of.

I can't help but think about what the hell can be so important in here that he needs a password in the first place. Does he think anyone would try to unlock his phone? Does he believe I would? Does he think I have no sense of privacy? He's my son and I know almost everything there is to know about him. I can't believe my baby is keeping things from his mother.

Because he is, right? What's so important that he needs a password for it? It's just a fucking phone! What, did he buy porn apps? Does he have a secret Instagram account or something?

After the fifth try, I hear the tone that tells me I have only one more chance to try it again before I'm locked out. I sigh, and my eyes open in surprise when I type '1234' and it works.

"Are you kidding me? Really? 1234? Really, baby?" I can't stop myself from saying, as I get to his home screen.

The background of his phone shows the same profile picture he has set in his Instagram profile, that adorable one he has with his friends during lunch at school some time ago, and that stupid little shit, Amanda, looking right at the camera.

I keep looking through the apps on the home screen, where I find not a trace of any apps to watch porn, nor anything else that could be out of place. But I also see some games, TikTok, Instagram, and some other stuff for fourteen-year-old boys that I quite don't understand.

So much for my paranoia.

Gallery! There should be something in the gallery, for sure. So, I touch on the app to look through some of his pictures, and the most recent ones are selfies and group shots of his classmates, some funny faces, and even one of Jason kissing Amanda's cheek with her making the stupid duck lips and with an 'OK' hand.

Cute. But stupid.

I find nothing else but memes, and a hidden folder with the name 'M'. Surprise, surprise. What I find must be one of his best-kept treasures. It's full of pics of my beautiful face, some of us together, just many pics, to be honest. Photos from vacations, from former years' school events, and some I have on my Instagram profile, and the last ones I find are obviously the few more 'provocative' we took together weeks back.

A big smile takes over my face when I think about the time he seems to have put into making this special folder just for us.

For just me.

"My sweet, sweet angel," I mumble with the phone in my hands, as I keep going through the gallery.

I check my surroundings for a second, but the sound of children's laughter reaches my ears and I can't stop myself from moving towards a tree that gives me enough protection.

I don't have much time, and I can't resist the temptation anymore, so my finger taps on 'Messages' and then on 'Amanda', now quickly forgetting about the moral discussion that was taking place in my brain a few minutes before this moment.

My eyes search through the conversation with the only aim of finding something – anything I can use as a threat or an advantage, something that might get her off my boy's mind once and for all.

I keep reading the messages between him and his little bitch and, at first, I just feel really disappointed and stupid. There's nothing weird in these conversations, not even interesting. Only small chatter, more and more memes, jokes, and stupid teenage talk, mostly about school.

But an idea comes to mind, and I type the word 'mom' on the search bar. Of course, many texts that refer to me show up in a matter of seconds, but pretty much all of them look just fine, inoffensive, until I find something from the beginning of December.

--

'I don't think I can go out tomorrow,' says Jason's text. 'had a big fight with my mom last night... she's real angry at me.'

'not shocked.'

Amanda's response unsettles me.

Not shocked? What is she implying by that? I don't have to go looking far for the answer to my question. The next messages are the ones I want to see the most, but I can't help the knot in my stomach when I see how my sweet Jason felt during those days.

'not shocked?' my son's next message says. 'what's that supposed to mean?'

There! He's asking the same questions as his mother.

Amanda's response is pretty simple. 'well u always tell me how much she treats u like a 5yo. like... ur her baby forever lol.'

Does my son really complain about that?

I keep reading, with my stomach starting to feel the same pain it had after that huge fight.

My boy answers, 'it's not that bad. she's a bit protective sometimes but that's just how my mom is.'

'if my mother acted with me like yours does… I mean, I probably would've gone crazy by now. I would've told her to fuck off. don't get me wrong I love my mom, but she's not like that at all and I'm glad she isn't.'

'sure I guess that works for your family, Am. but u know my situation is different. now it's just me and my mom. she only has me. u got your mom, your dad and your brother…"

It looks like my son's got a knack for finding explanations, judging by his response. But I think the reality is actually much simpler than what he believes.

'maybe. are u gonna tell me what happened?' the little bitch asks in the next message.

'dunno if i wanna talk about that.'

Good thing he didn't.

'okay. she's real crazy tho,' I read her words as my angry eyes scan the phone's screen. 'I don't get why u let her treat u like that. she's way too mean to u sometimes.'

Mean?! I'm not fucking mean to my son, you stupid girl.

'she's not mean, she's just strict.'

I can almost hear Jason's tone in my head as my eyes go through the rest of the texts, feeling bad for the way he defends me.

'that's another way to say she's a bitch, Jase.'

Oh, a bitch, huh? She's the bitch!

'don't say that. why do u say that? u just don't get it.'

'too controlling, u should be more rebellious sometimes.'

What's that stupid girl saying? Controlling? How? It's my job as a mother to know what he's doing, who he's with, who's calling him, and I have no problem letting her know I'm watching them closely.

'u know I can't, Am...'

'it'll get worse, trust me. she'll be controlling u forever if u don't.'

'that's the problem, I'm 14 and she's my mom... she can control me as much as she wants'

But that's not a problem, honey. That's just life.

However, it's not like I'm trying to control Jason all the time, is it? Sometimes I do, yeah, but that's not the way I see it.

'why do u fear her that much?'

Fear me? I don't know what this bitch is saying.

'it's complicated. I don't really fear her, it's just...'

'just?'

'maybe it's best to just drop this, please, Am.'

'whatever u say,' the girl says. 'don't wanna make u feel uncomfortable.'

'she's a good mom tho, I swear' is his response.

'she doesn't like me, u kno?'

'why do u say that?' says Jason's text.

Come on, baby, quit trying to act like it's not obvious.

Even though Amanda's messages are seriously getting on my nerves and making me worried, I can't help but feel a bit sorry for Jason sometimes. He's always trying to have my back, making sure he doesn't say anything that might get me into a mess.

I continue reading though.

'just the way she looks at me... it's like she hates me or sth, Jase.'

You're damn fucking right about that, Amanda Clark. You're so damn right.

'you're being silly. u think everyone hates u lol. she just doesn't know u. i think she'll like u more when she knows u more.'

'not like we go to your house that often...'

And right after that, they change the subject, making me lose interest in the conversation. So, what I do is keep on scrolling until the most recent conversations, finding their first texts from earlier today that make my blood boil when I see them.

'Merry Xmas J!!'

'Merry Xmas Am!!' Jason writes. 'btw, sorry I had to turn off my phone last night, it was getting to 0%'

'it's ok, I missed u tho :('

'same.'

Same, I repeat silently in my mind, hearing Jason's voice saying the word. Next question is, when did he miss her exactly? He was with me the whole time. Is he actually speaking the truth, or is he just trying to boost the girl's spirits?

'gonna go get the presents now,' I keep on reading the bitch's messages.

'yea same again lol'

'ok... love you J :)'

Her saying she loves him isn't shocking, but the next message totally throws me, when my boy hits her back with 'I love you too :)' after her love declaration.

"I love you too?" I mutter, almost dropping the phone when I read the response from Jason to that scrawny, ugly bitch.

My hands shake when I read the message again, my eyes fixed on that cruel screen. I try to cool down for a minute, not to think about anything, not letting my pissed-off heart take over.

"Come on, Sam, come on... Calm down," I mumble again, pressing my back against the tree behind me as I breathe through the anger, with the cold and gentle breeze hitting my face, cooling down my heated body. "It's not that bad."

As I said before, maybe he's just trying to cheer the girl up, right? Like when he said he missed her. What does he mean by that? Does he really love her? I mean, 'love' is a pretty big word, even for two dumb and carefree teenagers.

She can't have stolen Jason's heart already, can she?

Maybe she took advantage of my absence these weeks. It must have been that, yeah. Maybe she was able to worm her way into his brain in the time that we spent apart, when she was his only comfort and only source of affection.

I shake my head in disbelief, with the words in his message still clear in my mind.

I love you too.

What's love, actually? How do these little brats define that word?

And why is she the one receiving that message? Why is it not me?

"Calm down, Sam. Relax," I tell myself, needing to recall all the times he expresses his love for me too.

But what does it even mean when he says 'I love you, Mom'? Is he saying he loves me like a son loves his mom? Yeah, definitely. That's for sure, but does it hold the same connotations as his love declaration for the girl?

It's just a message, that's what it is. He must have been just trying to not make her feel bad. He's always been the kind of boy who wants to please everyone around him every time. That doesn't mean anything, and it surely doesn't mean he's in love.

Is he even old enough to know that he's in love? They're kids. Those words don't mean a damn thing.

However, a question arises in my mind. If he ever said 'I'm in love with you, Mom', would I be saying the same thing? That he's clueless about what love is? That he's just a kid who doesn't really know what he wants?

I stare at the calm waters of the lake as I hear the sound of some people running towards it in the distance and throwing rocks over the water.

It's kind of funny, right? I'm here, sneakily going through all these messages, and my family thinks I'm upset with my sister. The truth is, I'm just annoyed at myself, for being too much of a proud bitch who's been unable to confront what was happening right under my nose.

So, this is what's on his phone? Seriously? These messages with a silly, naive girl he's only known for a few months? And he's keeping this from me? That's why he needed a fucking password to protect the damn phone? Is this what I was so anxious and angry about, going through his texts and pictures? Did I seriously come out here by myself for this? To get rid of my anger and find nothing but dumb messages?

I'm even angrier than before now.

If that's it, if that's what's been making me crazy these last weeks, and especially over the last few hours, then I have nothing to worry about, nothing that could stand in my way. Isn't that right?

But if that's the case, why do I feel like I should do something about it?

The first thought is obvious, but texting her using my son's phone would be too stupid for a woman like me. I'm sure my son wouldn't be happy at all to know his mother had snooped around in his private matters.

The next idea is pretty solid, even if it's a bit heartless. I just know it's the right call, though.

"I guess he won't be missing it too much," I whisper. At least, for the rest of our vacation.

An upset gesture from my hand tosses the device into the cold water, near the edge, but far enough to know it'll definitely go deep. A splash follows, marking the cell phone's entry into the lake, and the small ripples tell a much bigger story than their size could ever show as they reach the shore. A story about a selfish, jealous, controlling mother who is unable to fight her possessive and crazy love for her only baby boy.

And just like that, in less than a couple of seconds, there's no sign of the problem that was between my hands, quickly swallowed by the lake.

"Bye, bye," I spit.

I start walking again, like running away from what I just did, and after what feels like some minutes, my steps get closer to where I left my family. And of course, my little sister's face pops up and stops me.

"There you are. We thought we had lost you."

My teeth somehow grind again at the sound of her voice, still a tiny bit upset with her, and my feet keep walking in her direction without making it too obvious I just want to avoid her. "You thought wrong."

"Yeah... Look, I'm sorry about before," my sister says with a different tone that I'm not used to hearing. "I know I sometimes can go too far, but it's because I worry about you two. I was being honest, but I probably chose the wrong words to…"

"It's fine."

"Is it?" My sister stops, getting in my way, and I see her pretty face staring back at mine, her arms folded under her chest.

"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't it be? You were just trying to help," I tell her and take a deep breath. "Let's forget about it, okay? Today's supposed to be a great day."

Her suspicious eyes remain locked on me, and chuckles ironically. "Alright, you don't have to lie, you know? I know you're still mad."

I look to the side and back at my sister's face, sighing and shrugging. "Yeah, I am. But I want to make peace."

"Fair enough. Can I hug you?"

"Sure."

"See? You didn't hesitate even one second there," Lauren says with her arms around me.

"You know I always want a hug."

Just like that, I hold my sister in a warm embrace. When we pull away, I look into her eyes for a few seconds, and the rest of my family except for two male members are busy talking around the table we were all sharing earlier.

"Where's Jason?" I ask, coming closer to them, looking around, seeing no signs of my boy. "And Steve?"

"They're looking for your son's phone," my father informs me, pointing to the small bar cabin among the tall trees. "Did you take it?"

I pull out my own phone from my pocket, wearing a questioning expression. "I took mine. So, this kid… He lost his phone, huh?"

"Yeah, the poor boy can't seem to find it. He's sure he left it at the table with us, but none of us saw it anywhere. We checked in the bags and the benches too."

"Maybe he took it with him when he went to the restroom?" I shrug and keep walking towards my family.

"That's what we all thought at first, but he insists he didn't," my father concludes.

I roll my eyes at the information. "I'll go help him."

My dad nods back and I see Lauren's gaze on me while I leave the picnic tables to walk in the direction of the small, rustic cabin in the middle of the park. My fingers run up to my hair as I try to comb it a bit and fix the strands that are out of place because of the cold breeze.

I spot my boy from afar, talking to Steve near the small bathroom cabin and walking in circles, probably looking for the phone he insists he left at the picnic table.

"Jason," I call, getting his attention as he sees my silhouette coming.

The young man stops looking around when my voice reaches him. "Hey, Mom," his breath tells me he's a little bit stressed out. "Have you seen my phone?"

"Calm down, baby. I have not. Your grandpa says you left it at the table?" I ask, standing next to him, in front of the wooden building. "Are you sure?"

My son's face nods, as his hand rubs the back of his head, messing up his shortish hair even more, and then he points to the distant bench behind me, "Yeah, I mean... I thought I left it there before," he looks around again.

"You didn't bring it with you?" I ask my boy with my hand over his shoulder, his coat cold and sort of humid, and my gaze fixed on his worried eyes.

He looks up at me and frowns a little. "I'm pretty sure I left it there. Right before you and Aunt Lauren started fighting again."

"Pretty sure, huh? That's not totally sure. Let's have a look in the bathroom again," I tell him and start walking to the entrance of the restroom's small cabin that's next to the bar building. "It must be there, for sure. We'll find it."

"I've looked twice in there already."

"Maybe you missed it. You forget how much better than you I am at finding lost stuff," I reply when I get the door open to enter the little wooden building, guiding my son to the small men's room with only a toilet, a sink, and a few paper towels on a roll. "Have you tried calling it?"

"It's in silent mode," Jason tells me from the door.

Then Steve's face pops in as we stand in the small, moist room.

"Still nothing?" Jason's question sounds disappointed, as my brother-in-law shakes his head, clearly showing surrender.

"I'll search around the picnic table again, Jase," Steve informs and pats my boy on the shoulder before heading out again, while we stand by the door.

"Alright," my son's tone shows how helpless he feels. He comes inside the small room with me, shaking his head as he walks around. "Mom, I told you I looked in here already... On the floor, the sink, everywhere..."

I slowly close the door behind us while he's talking, then walk to him, pushing his teenage body against the wooden panels. I get closer to him as my hand reaches the boy's hair, pulling him close to my lips and giving him a hot, sensual kiss, biting his upper lip.

"M-Mom!" Jason complains between my kisses, trying to resist the lustful intentions that I have for him. "What are you doing, Mom?"

My boy's mouth struggles to form words, gasping with his lips open and my tongue inside his mouth, my other hand pulling at his coat's collar and forcing his face to press against me.

He pauses the kiss for a second, and I find him blinking. "We're not doing that here... r-right?" He says with a low voice. "I mean, you said we can't do stuff like this around people and... Mom..."

"Shhh..." I mutter to the fourteen-year-old and get the door locked. "Baby, there's no one else around right now. Steve won't come looking for you here," I say and caress his chin. "I just want to give my boy some Christmas kisses."

During our next kiss, his tongue comes out of his mouth, shyly playing with mine, as my hands find their way up his shirt to feel the pleasing warmth of his body, both surrounded by the cold weather. My fingers find his hair again on the back of his head, and my other hand is on his chest, pushing him against the wall.

"Can you believe it, honey? Your Aunt likes to say we shouldn't enjoy each other's company that much," I whisper to his ear while I casually tug his hair back a bit. "We need to prove her wrong, Jason."

The warm, enthusiastic breaths he takes betray his real longing for me, even if he's trying to play it cool with his words. "M-Mom, we shouldn't, you said it yourself. We… We can get in trouble, seriously..."

"Trouble! Trouble, trouble, trouble…" I do my best impression of him, having a bit of fun. "I'm the adult here. Let me take care of the trouble. Right now, the only thing that matters to me is this pretty face I can't resist," I kiss the young man's immature jaw.

"But, my... My phone, Mom..." I listen to him moan, and my mouth sucks hard on the sensitive spot under his ear. "Ah... I gotta find it," he complains.

"Your phone's not here, sweetie," my tongue makes wet paths along his tender, slender neck until I reach his shoulder, where I gently suck on his skin. "You know what is?" I mutter, my voice thick and deep with need.

"W-What?" Jason says with a heavy, breathy tone.

Stepping back a bit, I take off my coat, and start pulling up my sweater, warm with desire, and the bra that was under it. Naturally, my huge bosoms drop and bounce heavily right in front of him, bringing his gaze to them in an instant. The cold's got my big nipples all stiff, although the other reason for their hardness is the arousal I'm getting from seeing how the boy's reacting to my massive tits.

With one hand, I push Jason against the wooden wall, while the other brings his wrist to my left tit. "These, Jason," I whisper, looking into his eyes, as I lean close and rub my body against his chest. "These are. And they're all yours, honey. These are only for you," I repeat with a grin, and push the huge breast on his hand.

Then my fierce hand grips the bulge that is now starting to pitch a tent inside his pants.

"Damn, Jason…" I can't help but be taken aback by how quickly he becomes hard. "I gave birth to such a deviant boy... Always hard for his mother..." I mutter, his fingers squeezing my boob. "This is for me too, right, baby?"

My teenage son is now breathing on my neck as he stimulates my excessive, naked breasts hanging heavy, both of his hands busy with them, and I feel gloriously happy to see that his doubts are going away.

I look down, moving my hands to the top of his pants, and I see the cold air coming out of his mouth cut its flow when he holds one of my tits as well as he can, taking his face down and taking my left nipple into his mouth. My lips spread into a lustful grin, my hands suddenly unbuttoning and pulling his pants down, his underwear coming with it, and my favorite toy finally bounces free.

I grab the erection with one hand, using just enough force in my grip. The other hand ends up back on my boy's neck, making sure he keeps on sucking the breasts that years ago fed him with milk.

When I start stroking his hard teen meat, Jason groans around my nipple, my tit now feeling funny because of his grunt. His dick is already so wet, throbbing so hard at this point, that my hand is making so much noise rubbing on its flesh.

"Do you love me?" I ask, stopping my strokes and kisses as I pull back slightly and glance down at him, noticing the couple of inches that make him slightly shorter than his mother.

The young man stares at me, and his dick twitches between my fingers when I ask the question, which makes a little more precum ooze from his cockhead.

"I do, you know that," Jason says.

"Tell me."

"I-I love you, Mom..." The boy nods and groans in pleasure, his hips trying to meet my resumed strokes. "Ah... I love you," he repeats with a lower voice.

A victorious smirk appears on my face as my boy declares his love, urging me to push my claws harder on his chest, making him tremble against the wall once more, and then I say the words that have been echoing in my head for a little while.

"I love you too."

Does that sound familiar, baby?

I lower myself carefully as my knees touch the cold and humid tile ground in the restroom, my body refusing to keep giving him the satisfaction of staying in contact with my breasts. My baby's erection is at the right level, like it's looking at me in the eye, and I press his cock against the side of my face, my tongue moving over the jumping shaft.

Jason does his best not to let out any sound while his cock gets wet, massaged by my tongue and kisses. Then, I go ahead and take my boy's dick inside my mouth, surrounding his head with my lips like I did last night. It feels like it's boiling, so hot in contrast with the rest of his body, resting inside my humid cavity, with no warning or ceremony, knowing his length should quickly become a familiar sensation in my mouth.

He lets out a grunt and convulses, making the wood creak behind him.

"Mom, it's… Too much. This is too much. I… I don't think I'll ever get used to this," Jason mumbles.

"Mm-hmm..." I chuckle slightly for a second. "Jason, baby, you're very wrong if you think you'll ever get used to my expert mouth. And by the way, you should try not to make a sound now, okay?"

The fourteen-year-old shakes his head when he sees me, and he opens his mouth as if trying to tell me we shouldn't be doing this, but no word leaves his lips when his mom leans close to him, putting her lips against his warm flesh to french kiss the hard member again.

A soft moan escapes my boy's mouth as my passionate tongue licks his tip. I pull away, taking his dick out of my full lips for a second and staring up at my boy's blushing face, while my hand keeps on stroking, using the lube I provided with my tongue.

"That's right," I tell him. "Your mouth can't make a single noise," I say while I rub his cock slowly, but harder now. My cheek finds Jason's soft abs and I begin rubbing against them, feeling his breathing and his little spasms with my head against his body. "No matter how good it feels, honey," I say while my wet lips find his smooth, flat stomach, giving small kisses along the surface.

I'm holding his shirt up with my hand so my tongue can play with his bare, hairless flesh, and I kiss his navel before taking his entire cock into my mouth again, with all the passion and love that I have inside for him.

When my hand is against his abs, I start moving back and forth, slobbering on my boy's length as if I had forgotten to eat today and this was my first meal of the day, ready for my treat. My other hand grabs his right, hairless buttock, and I hold onto the flesh like it's a winning lottery number, each finger applying a good amount of pressure. I push myself forward, burying the boy's entire member inside my mouth, my nose pushing against his abdomen and making my eyes water.

It feels impossible not to make loud noises as well, I groan deeply, making Jason's cock vibrate with my voice. "Mmm…." I moan again, with my lips stretched out around him, and my face pushes into him aggressively, feeling the warm member hit my tonsils as my tits' weight moves with me and jiggles around.

I pull my head back a few inches, and the hand on my son's ass starts moving back and forth in a gentle rubbing motion.

"Mom," I listen to Jason pray.

I look up and take it out of my mouth for a short period of time.

"Do you like Mom's kisses?" I whisper as my head comes up to kiss the boy's abs one more time, my right hand rubbing his butt over and over, while the other still plays with his shaft. I give another quick kiss on the tip of the fourteen-year-old cock, then a last one on his lower belly, just above his pelvic line.

My nostrils get stuck on the teen's crotch pubes, and I get intoxicated by the sweetest, muskiest scent there is: his musky, pubescent hormones. I almost cry, closing my eyes for a second and breathing him in.

"Oh, God, this smell... This beautiful fucking smell..." I murmur, unable to contain my adoration.

My lips kiss his hard member once more before taking the erection between my fingers, slowly pumping it in front of his eyes, staring at his fascinated teenage face, and drawing my nasty smile for him.

A few seconds later, I notice his perfect, white teeth showing as his eyes look at me in pleasure. Jason is fighting so hard, trying so desperately to hold back his moans and not to scream and make any sound while I work him like the sick mother I am, that I can't help but be a bit disappointed.

I know Jason well, so well I know what he needs and how much he can take.

And I want to make him lose control.

"Do you love me?" I whisper again, kissing the head of his dick.

A thick thread of precum and saliva fall from Jason's shaft onto my breast when I talk. I look down for a second, and I see the wetness dripping from the head and my hand, and running down, coating my skin, making my new necklace glisten and shine with a different, sticky texture.

My son grunts in pleasure just as he nods a few times. "Ahh… I love you, M-Mom," Jason moans as I keep stroking the throbbing dick.

"How much?"

"A… A lot. I love you so much," he whispers.

"Say it again," I urge him, stroking faster now and keeping my mouth open, waiting for the present.

"I-I love you!" He blurts out, kind of whispering too.

"Again!" I command, my fist closing on the sensitive glans and rubbing it up and down.

"Ahh, I love you, M-Mom..." The boy complains again. "Oh, I love you so much!"

"Who. Tell me who. I want to know."

"My mom," the fourteen-year-old moans, making me steal a little glance at the entrance of his urethra oozing another drop of precum liquid. "I-I love you, Mom! Ah, ah..."

"Who do you love more than anyone in the whole world, honey? Who?" My other hand pushes against my boy's stomach to hold him in place against the wooden wall. "Come on, honey. Say what I want to hear."

"Mom, I'm... I'm c-close," he moans in a muffled scream, fighting the urge to let go of the sounds his mother is provoking inside of him. "I love you more than anyone else!"

Let's prove it.

"More than you love that scrawny, ugly girl?" I ask as my fingers grab his dick harder, pushing my face closer to my boy's pubes and breathing the scent from his crotch. I bury my other hand's hard fingernails on his side, rubbing the teen's hard manhood on the side of my face. "You love me more than you love her, right?" I whisper again, my hand stroking faster, my nose filling my chest with air.

All of a sudden, I rise my chest up, making it shake up and down, and press his young dick against my fleshy boob, like I'm trying to bury his cockhead deep in my skin, making his legs almost lose their strength due to the sensitive contact of my mound against his tip.

"Tell me."

Jason looks down at me in shock for a moment, and his mouth tries to say something, perhaps wanting to stand up for the girl I just insulted, but he can't find the courage to do so. If anything, his helpless face reacting to my humiliating words towards the girl – the same who wants to steal his heart – only makes the whole scene better for him somehow, given that I'm feeling his pulsating meat inside of my hand.

My baby boy's face contorts with pleasure while he responds to my question, and he shakes his head. "Ahh… Yes! Yes, Mom!" He cries. "I-I love you more than I love her, more than anyone, oh, more than anyone... Oh, Mom..." He secretly moans with his mouth open.

"Oh, baby," I moan in ecstasy at the words from the only growing man I'll ever be able to actually love. "I love you too."

It's now when I feel ready to end this game – to suck my baby's sperm straight from the source.

I can't help but smile around my baby's hard cock, as I suck on its length even harder. My tongue plays with the skin around the cockhead, tasting the salty liquid streaming from his tip, while his fingers grip his coat harder and harder, like they're trying to break the damn fabric. My nails dig into his ass cheeks, forcing my boy's cock inside my throat until my chin presses against his balls, to then retreat slowly to catch my breath. Doing the same over and over, my saliva is now flowing from the corners of my mouth, down to the floor, and covering his cock in a messy layer of spit.

He looks at his mother's boobs swinging for some time, almost hypnotized, and while I fiercely give him the most wicked blowjob ever, my eyes never leave his, looking up into Jason's soul and heart with his dick in my mouth.

"Mom," my son's tone sounds like a complaint. "Ah, M-Mom... Mmmh..." Jason tries to warn, but the feeling of the burning penis inside his mom's mouth is too intense for him.

The teenage cock twitches between my wet cheeks.

The back of his head smashes against the wood. I feel him shaking with his legs almost failing, as his whole body starts to spasm. His cock swells for a few seconds, and I hear a long, low moan leaving my baby's lips.

And then again, he does his best not to scream while he's shooting his first rope of semen into his mom's mouth.

"Mhmm," I try to say with his spurting penis in my mouth. The sperm gushes in my throat and my hands force him to stay in place by holding his buttocks, my tongue keeping on dancing around the flesh to get all the seed and juice he can give me.

His flavor and smell fill all my senses, making my brain all mushy. I roll up my eyes into their orbits as I hear the young man's breathing getting faster. The pleasure is probably hitting him harder now, with more and more semen jumping inside my mouth and making it feel even warmer and hotter inside, to the point where the only thing I can think about is getting all of the seed inside my stomach, ready for digestion.

"I love you too... I love you too... I love you too..." I somehow say, but my vindicative claim is almost unintelligible with his cock cumming in my mouth.

My eyes' corners are watery from how hard I was deepthroating him, the cum inside of me warms up my mouth, making my lips feel sore and tingly, and sending the taste through my entire body.

Oh, fuck, dear Lord!

The intensity of his essence is so irresistible to me that I'm still swallowing as much sperm as I can from his penis, until it stops convulsing. Still, my mouth remains holding the fourteen-year-old for half a minute, when I'm sure he's starting to feel too sensitive.

My greedy mouth lets go of his cock just after collecting every drop, and as my hand still holds it, I feel every vein of his shaft, still erect and pulsating casually in his post-orgasmic bliss.

Moving my eyes to his face, I observe his all-red cheeks, looking at me sucking all the liquid out of his manhood, with my hands keeping up a constant stroking motion, giving it small massages everywhere with them and with my tongue.

"There you are," I say, contemplating the now softer but still shiny and swollen penis.

A job well done.

All clean now, and all his semen gulped and digesting in my belly, I'm hardly able to stand up.

I realize my knees hurt from kneeling for this long, and I let my breasts bounce against his dick as I reach for his pants and underwear to pull them back up again and give a quick kiss to my baby's soft lips. Casually, like nothing happened, I button up his pants and pull the sweater over his messy, flat stomach.

My lips and mouth still feel a little bit numb and my cheeks are still full the remainings of his taste, which is all over my tongue and even on the back of my throat.

"Oh, shit," I mumble, right after noticing a couple of little semen stains on the surface of my sweater, along with the previous ones on my breasts and my boy's necklace. They're easy to wipe away with a finger, though, so I quickly fix my clothes before the sperm gets a chance to dry.

I adjust my hair, looking in the mirror, and then I see Jason's reflection on it.

He's an all-wasted angel, his eyes looking at me with devotion, his pants showing some wrinkles.

I turn around to hold his face gently between my fingers. "See?" I whisper, trying not to wake him up from his spell. "This is how much I love you back."

My son, my everything, blinks as he's unable to form any words in his brain to reply, just looking at me with the eyes I gave him.

I press my lips against his forehead and caress his messy hair. My hand falls to his, holding it tight, and I look at him with a grin. "Are you okay? You're still trembling."

"Yeah," the boy's words sound like he's a little bit dizzy, still coming out of the haze from his intense orgasm. "Yeah, Mom... I-I'm okay. Just..." Jason swallows hard, blinking a few times to regain control over himself and looking around to avoid my gaze for a few seconds. "A-Alright," he clears his throat and finally nods, getting his composure back.

"Great, baby. Let's get going now, shall we?"

He nods at my question and follows me outside.

"I think they stole it from you, baby," I tell him as we walk.

It was me.

I'm the one who stole it.

"What...?" His teenage face frowns back, turning to me.

"Your phone, baby. I think someone took it," I repeat. "We'll get you a new one, okay? Once we get back home."

"Y-Yeah," my son says. "Yeah... That makes more sense," the boy's head nods again.

Our steps stop right in front of our picnic table, the air filled with the sound of them chatting.

"How'd it go?" Steve asks, with the rest of our group turning to see Jason, my hand on the back of the boy's shoulder, the two of us in front of everyone. "You took your time checking that restroom."

"Well, we had to," I explain to him. "We spent like fifteen minutes checking every little inch of it just to make sure we wouldn't miss his phone."

"It's gone," Jason shrugs. "Mom thinks someone might have stolen it."

"I'm sorry to hear so, but that's probably the case," my father replies. "It probably fell off when you went to the restroom earlier, or when you were walking," the older man tells us.

When they've finished giving my son their condolences for the passed-away device, everyone agrees it's time to get back to my parents' house.

"All right, then. Let's go home. It's getting colder," Lauren announces and starts grabbing our things.

"Yes, I agree. Jason's already shaking from the cold," I add, with my hand rubbing the young man's shoulder while my other hand, warmer from my pocket, finds his to make him cozier.

My arms pull him closer to me, and I give my boy a quick kiss on his temple, right in front of everyone, sensing the tremors of my vulnerable teenager as we walk away from the crime scene.

Chapter 14: Back Home Means Unwanted New Year's Resolutions

Notes:

Hello, hello!

I hope you can forgive the delay. I have just too much work, too much stress, and it's been hard for me to find time to write. But I told you there would be a new chapter, and here it is!

I hope you like it, I want lots of comments, hahaha!

Chapter Text

"I'm pregnant," she told me.

It was just a couple of hours after our discussion at the lake, but I felt like shit right away. It really made me reflect on what I said to her at some point during our argument.

Let me tell you something, little sister. You don't have children. You have no fucking idea what you're talking about.

Those were exactly the words I said. She didn't deserve to hear such a thing, even if I was trying to hurt her in the heat of the moment.

Now she's going to know first-hand what it is like to be a mother.

So, later that day, Lauren apologized again. She didn't want us to argue again for the rest of the holidays. And then, she dropped the big news but I could tell from her eyes that she had more preoccupations than hopes.

"I've known for three weeks," she said. "Steve doesn't know yet, Sam… I don't know what to do about it."

And I understood her doubts even before she explained herself, having to make such a difficult decision. She isn't that much younger than me, but still, she had never even thought that she could have her own family someday, given that her whole life was based on her work, her husband, and her friends.

People sometimes become parents when they're bored with their lives. I know that. And at her age, that's exactly what you could expect: that she was bored, she needed a change, and she got pregnant.

But that wasn't what I saw in my sister.

To be honest, I'd never imagined Lauren having children, but when I saw her gaze on me that day, I couldn't help but feel like my baby sister had finally realized that she was ready. My sister is a fully-fledged woman, with her career and life on track for years now. But that confession made me see her in a completely different light.

I told her exactly that, giving her the warmest hug ever, telling her how I thought she would be a great mom and everything would work out for her and Steve in the end.

She had concerns.

She said she was too old to have children, and that she didn't know how Steve would react to her pregnancy or what would happen to her job as a lawyer. I tried my best to calm her down, telling her I would help her in any way that I could and that her husband would love to be a father to her children. I told her everything would be just fine.

"Don't tell anyone," she said. "Especially not Mom. You know how she'll react if she finds out I got knocked up in my forties," she concluded, laughing, and I gave her my full support.

"It will be our secret until you're ready."

The next few days were just nice.

Lauren and I became super close after that. Both of my parents seemed to be in good health, happy; and my boy was playing with that new console of his more than I'm planning on allowing him now that we're back home.

What clouds my mind since then is my sister's words have awakened thoughts inside me about the meanings of motherhood again.

Why did I sense the call of that maternal instinct so much earlier than my sister?

I was twenty-nine when I gave birth to my son, which didn't make me a teen mom. I wasn't old, obviously. But I wasn't even thirty, and I had plenty of time ahead. I could've done many more things before getting pregnant.

And that's just the point. Why did I always know I'd be a mother? A perfect mom to the perfect child? Why was I always sure I'd give my genes and love to a beautiful baby? Why did I always want to see a little person with my lips, eyes, and hair, growing inside me?

Why did I just want a child, almost at any cost?

It isn't like I'm seeking answers to those questions, but it's been days of pondering them.

I felt the need to be a mother, that's for sure, and being Jason's mother has somewhat defined me. It doesn't matter what happened before he came along or what I've achieved in my career in the last years, it all goes away and turns into nothing when I see my boy.

For Lauren, though, motherhood seems to have come naturally, while she wasn't looking for it. I don't know why, but I envy that feeling.

Did I impose motherhood on myself? Was I ready?

I think I was.

I wanted to be a mom.

I want to be a mom, right?

"That's a nice dress," I mumble when I see it on the mannequin at the store window.

A white, off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved, pleated dress that goes all the way to the floor. There are white straps to tie it in a knot on one side and a few sparkles here and there, the waist a bit accentuated by a thin golden belt, and a high slit to show off a nice thigh.

"Mom."

It's expensive, though, and I don't think I have the body to wear it now. I mean, I like my body, I always have, but it's clearly designed for more slender women than me. Certainly not someone with a rack like mine. And with the extra pounds I've gained in the last couple of years, I'm obviously not as toned as I used to be.

"Mom," Jason's call pulls me finally out of my thoughts. I turn around to see him coming back from the other side of the street with his hands in his coat's pockets. "There's a phone retailer two streets away. We should go check it out."

He keeps asking about that phone I promised to buy, every single day. It's like he's on repeat, wearing me down. I swear I wanted to keep my word at first, but it feels like he's pushing me to my limits. Over the last week and a half, and especially since we came back from my parents' house, I've heard him watching reviews on YouTube for days. He knows the exact model he wants me to get him.

He's obsessed.

"Jason, can you show a little bit of patience, for a change?" I snap back at the teenager, shaking my head at him. "Just leave that damn thing alone."

"It's not that easy. I don't have a phone, Mom. Everyone has a phone," my son responds. "Mom, you promised. I don't even care about the model that much anymore, I just... I haven't talked to my friends since before the break. It's not fair."

What the hell does he mean he doesn't talk to his friends? How many times have I let him borrow my phone to text them in the last few days? It's not like he can't get on his computer to text or talk to people. It's not like he's been totally cut off from society.

And yeah, it's his friends he's worried about. Sure.

I let out a long sigh and turn to face him, trying to control my nerves. "You know that's not true, Jason. You borrowed my phone yesterday. You talked with your girl for like twenty minutes, right in front of me, so don't try to deny you can actually communicate. Don't act like you're a prisoner or something like that. You know you can use mine whenever you need," I remind him.

He catches up and walks a little in front of me, stopping to look at my face. "It was only a few texts. It shouldn't even count," he complains.

The last thing I want is to raise a bratty, ungrateful son. Is it the nature of our relationship the thing that's enabled his little rebellions and entitled attitudes?

It's my fault, isn't it?

"You have no idea how to appreciate anything that's given to you. It's my phone, Jason. I'm willing to give it to you when I'm not using it," I answer, holding back a nasty response. I don't like where this conversation is going. He's too pushy, and he needs to stop. "Now, please, forget about the phone and just have fun with me today, alright? Can we do that?"

"But..." He stops me before I can take a step and keeps on whining. "You said I'd get a new phone on our first day here. It's been three days and we're almost halfway through the week now," the fourteen-year-old says, trying not to raise his voice while I sigh, frustrated.

"The more you insist, the less I'm willing to buy you a phone," I say, starting to walk past him.

Not long after that, when we're having lunch at a Mexican restaurant, Jason's visage has me even angrier. The boy has barely said a word to me in almost half an hour.

Once we're seated and eating, the fourteen-year-old gives me another judgmental look when I'm texting with Mario, like it's unfair that I get to use my phone to send messages and he doesn't. I somewhat feel bad knowing that I'm being a hypocrite about the issue.

But my son's just a teenager, and I'm an adult woman. I'm the one making the decisions. It's totally different.

A moment later, he asks to borrow my phone again, and I refuse, even though I'm just checking my timeline on Twitter.

"Okay, Mom, listen," he begins again. "If you're not feeling like getting me a new phone, or… You can't get me one, at least let me talk to Aunt Lauren or Uncle Steve so I can ask them. I'm sure they can get me one and..."

I can't help but feel the fury rising inside my body.

I turn to him in my seat. "Okay, okay. Stop that, now. Hold it right there," I say. He's paralyzed, my hand in front of him. "First off, if you reach your aunt, your uncle, or your grandmother to ask for the goddamn phone, I swear to God you'll be so sorry that you ever even considered it."

"Mom, I don't-"

"Second, you don't know the value of a dollar yet," my hand finds the bridge of my nose, and my fingers pinch it as my eyes close. "You can't imagine the kind of bills that I pay, Jason," my eyes find my boy's. "Why do you even need it so much? Can't you guys live without a cell phone nowadays?"

"Mom... You do know how necessary is to have a phone, right?" The young man answers like it was a dumb question for me to even ask, and he lets out an audible breath.

He's right about that, but the tone is upsetting me.

"I'm expecting arguments, young man, not teenage sarcasm."

Jason shakes his head at my answer.

"I mean, like... For education? Communication? To talk to my friends? To talk to... You? What happens if there's an emergency?"

He's right again.

I'm lucky that school hasn't started again and that the boy's still close to me almost all the time.

"Hey, we survived without phones not that long ago," I answer back to him with a playful tone, trying to defuse the situation and take away some of the tension between us. "And, as long as you're beside me, you won't need to ring me up anyway."

The teenager groans at my words, and his arms fold as he leans back on the bench, letting me know his frustration, and I go on.

"You know what? You're right," I reply, looking into my son's eyes. The fourteen-year-old frowns, waiting for my answer, wondering what kind of trick is coming next. "You should have a new phone. But you'll have to buy it yourself," I complete with my face almost expressionless.

He startles.

"What? Mom, you know I spent all my money on getting your necklace. I have nothing," Jason argues with me.

Oh, that's cruel.

I didn't think of that.

I touch the beautiful piece of jewelry he got for me. It's on my chest, and I nod with a grin on my face. "And I'm so grateful. I'm proud of you for doing such a thing for me, but this phone thing is your own problem," I add. "You lost it, or they stole it from you, or whatever."

My son's eyes widen in a worrying look. "Mom... You promised you would get me one when we got home-"

I interrupt him.

"I think it's the only way for you to understand the value of money and things. This is a lesson in responsibility too, you know? If you had been more careful, the phone would still be with you. That's the only solution. You buy your phone, or you do without, simple as that. I'll give you an old phone. Or, even better, one of those dumbphones, you know, just for calling and stuff. They're cheap," I reply and drink my water, letting him process the words and realizing the gravity of the situation. "You always make sure you let me know you're growing up, don't you? Your aunt says that very same thing too. This is a good chance for you to prove just that. To learn how to manage your own budget."

His gloomy face says it all.

"So, how am I supposed to save money?" he tells me, his voice sounding desperate.

"I give you an allowance for a reason, baby, not so you can just go out with your friends," I answer with a bit of irritation, not willing to back down now. "Use that," I conclude, placing my careful hand on top of his on the table.

I hate having to treat him the way I do sometimes. Even though I feel I have a good reason for it, it still feels bad, especially when he gets upset like that.

Sadness. It has become the best word to describe how I'm feeling lately again.

Frustration. That could be another good one too.

Abandon is probably the other that comes to mind.

I guess life's a fucking rollercoaster, and that particularly applies to Jason. There's nothing you can do about it sometimes.

Ever since we came back from Christmas Holiday, nothing seems to be the same between us. Our apologetic conversation in my parents' guest room on Christmas Eve should have ended all the tension and frustration. It looked like it had for the next few days, it really did.

During our stay at my parents' house, he was just… Oh, my boy. He was too good to be true, with his words and gestures so loving and kind to me every time he got the chance. We talked, laughed, and cuddled with each other all the time. We slept in the same room every night, we savored each other's bodies as much as we could in between our family time, and, in short, the two of us couldn't be happier with our secret.

Not my parents nor my sister Lauren, who came to have an intense discussion with me about what she thinks about the way I treat my son, suspect how things are between Jason and I.

After the living room thing and the slip-up at the lake, my son and I kept our promise and made sure our special relationship never showed while we were around everyone. We knew there couldn't be the smallest sign, no matter how insignificant.

On the last two days of the holidays, the fourteen-year-old was almost perfect to the point where I got the feeling that his guilt and shame for how things were before vacation had changed our bond for the better.

While we were there, lost in our Christmas joy, that goddamn phone didn't matter. And even the girl he was dating? She didn't seem that important to him anymore.

He only seemed to care about me.

I know he did.

Those days, Jason made love to me with his mouth as many times as my body allowed him.

When my sister wasn't home and my parents went to sleep, he kissed me and played with my nipples and big tits. My fingers ran through his hair as he sucked on them with the same desperation a starving baby sucks on its mother's breast.

Oh, wait. That's exactly what he was.

My baby. My sweet, precious baby, sucking on his mommy's nipples in the middle of the night, not letting go until his hunger was satisfied.

I kissed him every chance we got. We made out as if it was our first time, our first love, and every second my boy's tongue and lips spent inside my mouth made my heart swell with happiness.

The second his cock was in my mouth, and the salty taste of his young semen spread over my taste buds and flooded my mouth with the warm liquid, I was so blessed to be the only one able to bring him such pleasure. He jumped, moaned, and begged me for more of what only I could give him, and I got addicted to it, to his body, to his hands, to the sounds he makes while he spurts his young sperm in the warmth of my throat.

And during those days, while he was getting accustomed to the intense pleasure of my tongue on his glans, I got to train his teenage, nasty mouth to lick and suck on my needy clit.

For God's sake, he only needed one woman.

And that woman was me.

The woman who had given him life and carried him for nine months, the woman who gave him his first words, his first steps, who raised him in a world that had been built with her hands. I, the only woman to love, protect, and nurture him, the one and only source of comfort in the world, was also the only one who could provide the kind of sexual pleasure his teenage, twisted mind could imagine.

Our intimacy became the thing we most cherished over Christmas Break.

Everything was so easy.

It felt like our relationship had matured.

It felt like a honeymoon.

But something changed after the holiday. It all changed when we got home. It was like he suddenly ignored the new nature of us, and he went straight back to acting like an entitled kid who's always whining about something, showing the exact kind of behavior I've been constantly trying to correct over the last few months.

And yeah, all he wants now is to be around that little tramp of a girl of his. And that phone too.

Less than a week ago, he was all pecks and snuggles, hugs and kisses. He wanted to touch his mother's breasts and make her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. The young man told me he loved me over and over, and he wanted to please me in ways you would never expect from a boy his age.

But now that we're back to our routine, in which he wants to pretend to be just an average son, it's like he's not in that mood anymore. He doesn't try to get close to me like he did back at my parents. He barely initiates a kiss anymore, and he doesn't ask to snuggle like he did when we slept in the same bed every night.

And he's taking even that from me.

I figured he'd want to crash in my bed when we got here since we agreed on how well we slept in each other's arms during the chilly vacation. I thought he'd miss the cuddles, the caresses, and the warmth we shared. I was expecting the same, if not more when we came back from the holidays.

He started sleeping in his room just like he did before, as if our whole Christmas honeymoon didn't matter to him. As if his own mother wasn't necessary for his comfort now that we're back, and his little whore is close.

Of course, I could just ask. I could make him come to my room and sleep with me every single night, and he'd do it with no complaints. But that's not my style. I want it to be him, the one asking.

Sometimes, I get closer to him while he plays video games or reads something in his room. I touch him or sit close enough for us to touch each other when he's watching TV.

I get his attention, I do, and that makes my heart feel at peace. I caress him for a little bit, kiss his lips a few times, or play with his hair. But the moment I try to initiate something else, to pull him closer and enjoy our closeness a bit longer, he tells me he's tired, he says he's going to take a shower. Or that he needs to study. Or to get ready for bed. Or any excuse he can find, really.

And it hurts.

For fuck's sake, I know it's all because he's upset with me because of the goddamn phone.

How can a fourteen-year-old boy, who's supposed to start acting like a grown-up, be so fucking materialistic that he's bothered because of something so idiotic and meaningless as a phone?

Okay, I stole his phone and threw it into a lake. That's a tiny bit sick, and messed up, even for me.

But why can't he see this as an opportunity to prove himself as a mature young man just like I said? He thinks of this as a punishment, as a broken promise from his mother. He thinks I'm being too hard on him, but, really, I just want him to grow up and prove that he can handle life without something as unnecessary and insignificant as a new cell phone.

For the love of God, why is he so difficult to deal with sometimes?

Our relationship seems to be at a standstill. I mean, I've made him cum a couple of times over the last few days, but to be honest, it hasn't felt the same. He hasn't kissed my lips or breasts with the same hunger he used to on holiday. And even when he gets into it and lets me give him relief, I can see his eyes wandering and looking at things that are not me.

And that fucking hurts too.

There's no way he doesn't know I'm bitter because of his attitude. He's not one of those dumb teenagers who can't figure it out when someone's upset with him. But he keeps asking to go to the movies, or the mall, or to hang out with his stupid girl, no matter what I think of her.

Amanda.

I'd say 'no' to him a hundred times if I had to, just to have my boy close to me for one fucking second. But when my sweet Jason comes up to me with his angel face and that sad look and his voice sounding like he's about to break down, how can I say 'no' to him?

He kind of respected me dating Mario – the same man I've been avoiding to meet since we came back –, so why shouldn't I let him go to the movies with the unsightly, skinny Amanda Clark?

We agreed to discuss Mario and Amanda, that's right. But that was two weeks ago, and it seems like a forgotten pact at this point. Healthy communication seems to have become an impossible mission when it comes to my boy, me, and the poisonous vipers surrounding us.

Even though I was his New Year's kiss, it's Amanda who takes most of Jason's evenings, all for herself, making me the saddest, loneliest mother in the whole world.

But I know it's time to wait. I'm trusting my guts on this.

Because time is the only certainty in life, steadily marching forward, regardless of our hopes, dreams, or fears.

And, after a few days, time proves me right.

Youth is wasted on the young, they say.

It's a good take, but I prefer to say that experience is the best teacher.

I'm a forty-three-year-old woman. I've been a teenager myself, and I'm well aware of what it's like. But now I'm older, wiser, more experienced, and, obviously, much better in so many ways than that teenage brat I was at my son's age.

I know how teenage relationships are. I've been in some, and I've seen many. Not everything about them is curiosity, overflowing excitement, and unrestrained sexual desire.

That's why I was expecting this day to come.

No. I knew this day would come.

I admit that, over the last few wintry days, I've been anxiously hoping Jason wouldn't try to go too far with her. I needed to trust my plan, which was just to wait for the opportunity, and that's what I did.

Conflict.

Conflict is probably one of the biggest obstacles that teenage kids need to learn how to deal with. They don't fucking know how to do that.

So, yeah.

A fight. A nice, teenage fight!

I'm savoring it a little bit too much.

A naïve, useless argument, leading my little boy to think his girlfriend is going to end up breaking up with him is with no doubt all I was asking for. It means that Jason needs comfort and support. It means that I can get close to him. It means that I can make my son happy.

And the best part is that I didn't even have to be the one to trigger the source of conflict between them.

"So I told her something like, 'Hey, don't get pissed off over nothing,' and that I'd make it up for her," my boy tells me. "But seems like forgetting it was our monthiversary, or whatever, made her lose her fucking mind!"

If I was that girl, I'd be just as angry as she is right now.

But I'm not going to tell him that.

"Language," I say. "And calm down, honey."

"And she just said 'over nothing?!'" He keeps on talking without hearing a single thing I said, his words coming out loud. "It's a one-month anniversary! I mean, I care about it, I swear I do, Mom. But... It's just... And she just left! Just like that! She left me there!" He lets out a frustrated breath. "I-It's been like this with her, she gets pissed off for the silliest reason. I swear to God it's been like this ever since Christmas."

Oh, since Christmas? That's good to know.

Sadness is slowly replacing anger in my son's eyes, and he's looking for help to understand.

He needs comfort.

He needs a solution.

I know he's asking for my help, I can feel it in my guts, as if he was a bird whose wing is broken. He just needs a hug from his mom to heal, doesn't he?

I smell his hair and rub his locks while his cheek is against my breast.

Between my arms, his body feels like a hot radiator, and despite his one-inch growth in the last few months, he looks smaller than ever to me right now. My thicker, motherly extremities envelop him in a soft embrace that soothes his worries and calms the fire inside him.

"Oh, baby. You're too good for that girl," I tell him and press the back of his head, my fingers stroking the young man's hair. "I've told you before, and I'll keep telling you again and again. She's just a child. A stupid brat who doesn't know what she's got herself into by having a boyfriend as sweet and attentive as you."

My words' purpose is to act like a caress for his soul, but I know they feel like daggers in his heart.

His lips let out a sigh.

"But it's not that. It's not that she's bad or something like that..." the young man tries to explain.

"She left you there!" I cut him off. "You tried to apologize to her, and she left you there! All alone! What else do you need so you can see how bad she is to you? And how can you be so sad about a girl like that? She's not worth it, Jason! Not a bit."

I keep him tight against my body and hear him breathe deeply.

He's sobbing.

"Would you do that?" I ask him, knowing the answer. "If you were upset with her. Would you leave her just like that? Out of the blue, just because you're angry?"

"No..." Jason replies, the young man's eyes avoiding me as I stare at him.

"You wouldn't. Because you're better than that," I kiss his forehead. "You'd talk to her through all of it until you fix things, because you're so much more mature than she is."

I'm sure that deep inside, Jason wants to make up with that bitch. That's why I'm trying my best to help him understand he needs to get rid of her, once and for all.

That's why my sentences need to be harsh, and a little mean.

"And that monthiversary thing," I continue, sounding scornful, separating from him for a second to look him in the eye. "Come on, Jason. It's ridiculous. That word doesn't even exist."

He doesn't respond, and just goes back to his mother's warm breast, sighing heavily, almost like a sob, his hands grabbing onto my sides to find support.

I hug him again, tightly. "I guess sometimes it's best to learn the hard way. I told you, and you didn't believe me when I said that girl isn't worth your time. But now you're feeling how bad she is to you, right?" My hand goes under my boy's chin to have him look back at me, my voice turning a little softer. "But it's not all that bad," I smile and rub the young man's chest, trying not to make it look like I'm enjoying this too much. "It's her loss, my love. I just can't stand seeing my son getting mistreated like this. There are thousands of girls out there," I kiss his forehead and close my eyes. "You have me, baby. You have your mother. I'd never abandon you like that."

He doesn't say anything at first, but holds on tighter.

He loves me.

"Thanks, Mom. I think I needed this," he says, sounding sad, his voice muffled. "You, I mean. I've been missing our Christmas days," he mumbles as he looks up and away from me, still resting his head on the warm pillow that my big boobs are. "I just... I'm sorry for how things have been the last few days. I was upset about the phone thing and... I mean, I still am. But..."

"Jason," my tone is suddenly stern. "If you're still thinking about that thing, I don't know how many times I'll have to say this. You need to show some maturity and own up to your responsibilities. If you really love me, you need to act like an adult about this, baby."

My hands reach his head to hold it tight against my body. He groans softly and his body shakes as he sniffs my breasts through the pink sweater.

"I know it's difficult sometimes, Jason," I touch his ear. "You sometimes forget I'm still your mother. I don't know if that has something to do with how things have been between us. But our… closeness doesn't change who I am. And I know better. Just… As I said, I'm your mom, sweetie. I'm educating you. Constantly. All the time, with everything I do. That's what mothers do."

He needs to be sure that his mother, unlike his scrawny girlfriend, won't ever abandon him for any reason. That he has someone, right at home, who cares for him, appreciates him, and wants him for what he truly is. That he'll be safe with me no matter what he does, or no matter what happens.

Then I move my hand to the back of his neck, my fingers touching his nape, giving him goosebumps as he realizes I'm getting ready for what's to come. I grab him tightly.

"And don't you ever keep me away from your life again, is that clear? If you're mad at me for trying to be a good mom, then I'll have to spank your little ass so hard that you won't be able to walk for days."

"Yes, Mom," my boy finally says after a long pause.

"That was a joke," I chuckle.

"I know."

The little smile I get from him means the world to me.

"Now kiss me," I command. "You lack some mother love."

With an ease he never showed just a month back, my boy lifts his head this time and gets closer to kiss me, his hands reaching my back.

Our kisses start with the softest touch of lips, and my fingernails slide across his scalp in an attempt to relax him, to soothe his pain, like a good mom always should.

Jason's lips are tender and full. Mine are older, but fuller than his, and they move with purpose and confidence. My fingers, soft and demanding at the same time, push and pull on my boy's face and hair while the two of us indulge in our particular way of loving each other.

We're much better with our bodies than with words, so our lips try to do the talking.

But then, like it's all fate, at the worst possible time, my phone rings.

Amanda Clark.

She doesn't call usually. Normally, she'd just text. She'd ask to speak with my son or whatever, and I'd make sure to ignore her for a couple of hours until I decided it was okay to pass her over to my boy.

But this call feels like something else entirely.

Like a demand.

"It's her, Jason," I tell my son with a harsh tone and look him in the eye as if the name was a curse.

"Mom, let me pick that," my son stops our kissing session, pulling back, and reaching for my phone.

"No."

He stops his hand for a second, then continues to go for my phone, and I hold his forearm.

"No. She hurt you. She doesn't get to do that. You stay right here with me. She needs to learn a lesson, Jason. She deserves to suffer tonight."

My fourteen-year-old son's doubts and apprehension are clear in his eyes as they look at mine. "I need to… at least talk to her," Jason says, his tone slightly higher than a whisper.

"You won't answer the phone. We don't let those who hurt us through the door unless they understand their mistakes," I say, using one of my life mantras.

It's something I've always lived by. It's also the way I treat every man who thinks he's worthy of being by my side. I let them know their place in a way that leaves no room for doubt. It's better to hurt a bitch who wants to cause you pain than let them see you vulnerable and beg for mercy.

That makes me think of something.

"You won't answer the phone," I repeat. "It's my phone. Her choice was to call me."

And she'll surely regret to do so.

My finger slides on the screen to answer her call, looking at my boy in the eyes. His pupils are wide, looking at mine as the ringing stops, and the call starts.

"Jason?" The girl's voice isn't too loud, but clear.

She's been crying.

"He doesn't wanna talk to you."

My son's hand finds mine. He's not aggressive, he's just trying to stop me, to tell me to think before I speak. But, once again, he's forgetting I'm his mother.

And a mother protects.

"Mrs. Matthews?" the girl asks, recognizing my voice. She sounds more than just a bit worried, like she didn't expect me to be on the phone instead of Jason. "Where's Jason? Can you tell him I wanna talk to him? Can you tell him I'm sorry, please?"

"He doesn't need your sorry."

My son's hands touch my thigh and my hand. They seem anxious to prevent me from speaking, to avoid more trouble than needed, but my other hand goes for the back of his head, my fingers getting tangled in the boy's hair as my lips kiss the young man's mouth to comfort him and show him it's gonna be all right.

He doesn't need to worry. I'm taking care of this.

"You hurt him, Amanda. He's suffering now, and you need to learn actions have consequences," I tell her.

Jason tries to say something. He's stopped by my hand, grabbing him tighter, caressing the side of his face, reminding him that his mother is here with him, that she's doing this for his own good.

"But..." The girl says, probably scared by the way I talk. I can almost hear her heart beating over the phone. "It was just a silly fight..." She tries again. "Please, Mrs. Matthews..."

"No. Think twice before next time, because if I see my son like this ever again when he comes home after being with..." I'm about to insult her, but I don't. "When he comes home from your dates, I swear you'll never see him again in your entire life. Just think about what I say, Amanda Clark. Understood?"

There's silence for a moment.

I know my boy wants to talk to the girl, to apologize even. He probably should. It's a healthy way of communicating with someone who matters to him.

But that's not what's going to happen.

Not letting the girl answer, I hang up, and turn my phone off.

I feel relieved when I don't see in my son's face the pain I was expecting. I notice a calmness in his face that wasn't there just a moment ago.

"I'm so sorry I had to do that," I whisper to Jason in my best apologetic tone. My fingers stroke my boy's cheeks and jawline. "She had to know what happens when people hurt my son."

Jason gives me a small, shy nod as an answer.

"Mom, it's... okay."

His lips almost fail him, but I see what's in his eyes, what he doesn't dare say. He doesn't even feel bad for his girl. Not now, at least.

I see pride.

Pride that his mother has stood up for him and showed the little slut he calls girlfriend how important he is and how much he's worth to the ones who truly love him.

I see pride in his eyes.

Oh, God, he's just as lost and corrupted as I am.

He wants this too, doesn't he?

"I'm..." He goes on. "I'm not angry."

All of a sudden, his room looks brighter and warmer to me. The edge of his bed seems more comfortable as we sit. The clothes he's wearing feel a lot softer, his face shinier, and his hands, fidgeting as they are, seem more alive than they ever were.

His innocent eyes tell me things I've been needing since we came back home. I can feel the butterflies in my stomach, the familiar heat growing in between my legs, my pussy becoming moist and ready, waiting for what I've been craving so much for days now.

He needs his mom to kiss his pain away.

I devour his lips desperately, hungrily, our mouths opening, our tongues sliding in between the other, our teeth colliding as we indulge in this intimate expression of our love, the way of talking that works best for the two of us.

This is just how we are, right?

The teenager moans against me, and I savor that beautiful sound I haven't heard for almost a week.

"Let your mother take care of you," I say, pulling up the fabric of his long-sleeved shirt over his head.

My lips find him as soon as the boy's face reappears from below.

Our bodies feel boiling, his mouth tasting of something he ate before today. I take his hand, his fingers between my fingers, and hold them as I force him to follow my moves.

He's happy to do so. I see the spark in his eyes as my own stare at his, showing how much I care.

How much I can give him if he lets me.

Our fingers untangle when he falls on his back, the bed bouncing as I crush him on top of the covers and place my knee between his legs. His chest, pale, skinny, but with muscles well-defined, rises and falls, faster than before, my lips kissing his stomach and reaching for his neck.

His hands are now holding the hem of my sweater, pulling the piece of clothing off, my long, light-brown hair flowing down on my bare back and shoulders, almost landing on the middle of my spine.

My breasts jump in the bra that contains them and he goes straight for the clasp of the lacy, gray fabric, trying to take it off me with a childish haste I haven't seen for days.

We keep kissing as his hands work the clasp, and I don't rush him. He' ll learn with time.

My palms are all around my boy, the sides of his naked torso, caressing his smooth, teenage skin, feeling his goosebumps, his hot breaths, as we make out and I wait for him to finish undoing the bra, still not helping him.

He gets the thing out of the way and my breasts are finally freed. They feel heavier every time I release them, and the young man takes a few seconds to admire the pair of huge mounds that hang low in the air, hefty, swinging like two bags full of sand.

The fourteen-year-old bends a bit and presses his face against the softness of my boobs, his hands cupping each one, feeling the weight of them. My nipples stand hard and ready against his cheek, almost against his lips, so he kisses my skin, breathing heavily, his head moving side to side against my soft flesh.

He wants to kiss them.

It's cute to see.

He's trying to be more intimate than usual.

I try to go for my own jeans, but his hands are already there, opening the button of my pants and pushing them down, along with my panties, as his mouth latches onto the left nipple. Now squeezing and fondling both my boobs, I try to finish the job he started with my lower half.

I fall beside him after losing balance, with my pants and underwear still around my ankles, and laugh when he almost jumps on top of me, the boy's gravity resting on my side. He keeps on sucking my nipple like a desperate baby as he holds one of my legs, pulling off the clothes around my ankles to get me completely naked, then goes for the other leg and finally leaves my lower half bare.

His mother helps him remove his pants too, and I'm more efficient than he is.

The fourteen-year-old pushes himself on top of me, and we start to kiss, his hard dick between us, the feeling of the tip of it brushing against my thigh, getting close to my sex, is a clear threat to his virginity.

He's eager, almost too eager. He's desperate.

I'm not sure if getting inside is crossing his mind, but I know him, and he'd never do that without my permission.

Obviously, he doesn't push himself inside me, and I can't help but feel a little disappointed.

That feeling doesn't stay long when I see him traveling down, gobbling my breasts, then further down to my tummy, rubbing his face on it, until the fourteen-year-old saliva leaves a trail that leads to the pubic hair on my crotch.

"Oh, God," I hold his head tight, my fingers interlocked against the back of his skull, pulling him in.

I feel my boy's lips sucking on the meaty, smelly hood that covers my clit. It feels like he's trying to drink the nectar, to devour it all.

He's not even looking at me.

"Wait," I say.

I grab his hair and pull him up to remove his head from between my legs, and I make him lie down on the bed.

The young man doesn't have the chance to speak before I rest myself against his expression, facing him upside down. He can keep feeding on his mother's juices while I go straight to his cock, my hand grasping at the hot flesh, guiding him into my mouth.

"Mom," he says and grabs my ass, each of my cheeks bigger than his head, and I take his dick deeper and deeper.

Pre-cum spreads over my tongue, pushing down on his abdomen to keep him against the mattress, his whole body tensing, covered with little droplets of sweat, trembling against my mouth.

My young boy's cock.

This is the best treat.

But Jason knows how to drive me insane, and he takes my clit into his mouth and starts licking and sucking, just the way I taught him. Oh, fuck, the way he plays with my clitoral hood, and sucks, and teases; it makes me almost forget the task of masturbating his cockhead with my lips.

It's the first time we're doing a sixty-nine, and he's getting way too good at it.

Our efforts become a fight, trying to distract each other, to make each other feel more pleasure.

It's a competition.

I moan against my son's cock when I realize I'm thrusting my pussy against my boy's mouth in the same rhythm I'm sucking his cock. And when his delicious pre-cum spills all over my mouth and I start to drink, I can't take it anymore, my legs giving up on me, the weight of my body crushing my son's head and face as I feel ready to cum.

Jason, my boy, grabs my ass with both hands, digging his fingers in it, and brings me closer, like he knows I'm getting there.

He sucks harder.

His mouth feels hot, and the pressure he applies is perfect. The first time I feel the explosion coming from between my legs, the warm sensation of it makes me groan loudly, screaming, with his cock deep in my throat, his hands pushing my hips and keeping my wetness in front of his mouth so he can feed from my orgasm as I start cumming.

My eyes close for a second when my son keeps lapping, his lips kissing my slit.

The pleasure is unbearable, and my moans increase with the sensation of an orgasm building inside of me again, like they're two in a row, if that makes sense.

A bigger, second wave makes me yell with my lips around my son's cock, my legs trembling and almost falling as he grabs me tight.

The fourteen-year-old doesn't stop, and his mother's pussy is just for his mouth.

He's like a drug addict. My cunt has become his playground, and just as he did when he was a child, he doesn't wanna let go. He needs to be fed, and he'll get as much as he needs.

"Jason," is all I can say. My fluids are running down the corners of his lips when I raise my head to look at him, his face now red with my liquid shining on his skin. "You... God. I think you need to stop or... You're going to make me crazy, baby."

"I want to keep going. Can you keep going?" He asks, his eyes full of need, and he brings his lips to my slit again.

He's never looked as much into it as he does now.

Jason's right hand reaches one of my tits, and he kisses my clit again, then starts sucking on it like it's a straw.

The heat builds up inside me again and I can feel a shiver coming, another orgasm building.

I just don't understand what's happening with my body, and why he's so determined to eat me out as if it were his only reason to exist.

"Jason!"

His body tenses when I say his name.

I do my best with his cock now, pushing him all the way in, and using my throat muscles and cheeks to give him that added stimulation. His hips start thrusting up in unison with my bobbing motion, and while we're sixty-nining, I let my hands travel until they reach his butt. I hold it and start pulling, the boy understanding that he has to push himself inside my mouth.

We're close.

I feel like he's about to come.

His body starts trembling again. He's even harder as I feel my legs about to give out when another wave of orgasms takes over me.

The feeling of bliss invades every fiber of my being.

"I love you, Mom," he moans while he eats me out as if his life depended on it.

Oh, fuck.

"I love you too," I say, feeling both of our orgasms coming at the same time. "I love you too."

I love you too.

I remember he texted those words to Amanda. But that seems so distant now.

So irrelevant.

His cock erupts inside of me. It feels like a volcano, the way he spews cum deep inside of his mother's throat while his hips pump harder against my face, the muscles in his abdomen tensing, the taste of his semen hitting my tongue.

I almost choke, but I don't.

My own ecstasy makes me shudder, and his hips buck up into me as the last ropes of his orgasm get shot. He doesn't pull back, and my mouth seems to want to engulf his trembling shaft.

I begin swallowing his seed while part of it dribbles down my chin. He comes and comes inside my cavity, his fingers still pressing against the fleshy cellulite of my butt and thighs, almost scratching me while his body goes up, curling in front of mine.

My second climax, lighter than the first one, starts fading when he finally releases my hips.

My mouth is exhausted, and it just rests there, with my baby's cock between its lips and his face rubbing on my hairy pussy.

After a moment of lying there and breathing heavily, I massage his now cute penis, which is now getting flaccid inside my mouth.

And, without any words, his thick thing comes out of my mouth with a plop. The young man's member is clean, still semi-hard, and I observe it out of the corner of my eye as my body goes up, turning until we're face to face.

My arms surround him as our lips start battling again. The salty taste of semen is mixed with the sweetness of my son's saliva and my own cum, and I savor him again and again, lost in love for this boy in my caring arms.

After the longest kiss, I'm finally able to look at his face.

He's so beautiful, with his hair messed up like that, his lips pink, swollen and a bit red because of the roughness of our love. His eyebrows seem manlier now, disheveled, and the color of his eyes darker than it's ever been with this light.

That smile, almost childish and innocent – I wish it would last forever.

One of his hands finds my love handle, then my breasts, and as if he was trying to measure them, he starts feeling the weight. He starts moving the massive globes with his fingers, grabbing them and trying to see how they move when he releases them.

He takes his time with them, and for a while, he alternates our kisses with his mouth looking for my nipples and my neck. He presses his lips against me, sucking the flesh, then rubbing his face like a little cat marking its mother with its smell.

I could die at any second, and I wouldn't even give a shit.

The minutes pass, and we both know we're sleeping in this bed tonight.

Then, when I wasn't expecting him to open his mouth again, he surprises me with his calm tone.

"Mom," he whispers. "I… Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I should thank you for the way you made me feel, baby."

Seconds later, as if his initial intention was to say something else, he speaks again. "Can I... I'd like to ask you something, Mom."

He's serious now.

"Tell me, love," I whisper back.

"I just... I feel embarrassed to say this, but..."

"Shoot," I encourage him with my eyes and smile.

He lets out a deep, almost silent, sigh. "Remember the deal? The deal we had? The rules?"

"Yeah, I do."

He continues then. "Rule number four…"

"I remember rule number four. I made the rules, baby. I said third base wasn't allowed," I explain, laughing lightly. "Which means I broke my own rules, I know. I don't need you to remind me of my own mistakes."

He takes a moment to process my words, and still nuzzling against the side of my head, my hair against his face.

He speaks again.

"And..." Jason tries to say, his voice low and weak. "Mom... You said third base was not permitted, but in the end... We... You and I, you know... You did... Third base to me..."

My son's face is hidden on my shoulder, but I see his cheeks becoming red.

I don't know where he's going with this.

"Jason, I know. I told you myself. Just say what you want to say, baby."

The next ten seconds feel like hours.

"I mean, fourth base is..." his gaze seems to have focused on my hand, on my chest, on my everything. "It's full intercourse, right?"

Oh, shit.

Now I see where this is going.

I nod. "Yeah, fourth base is vaginal sex, sweetie."

Quickly, his eyes rise and find mine. He looks confused for a moment, but it's like a burden is about to be taken off his back, as if my confirmation of what he knew made him feel a bit lighter, somehow.

"Rule number four included... It included fourth base, Mom."

Yeah, he's going to ask.

"And what about it?" I blurt out, almost impatient.

He raises his head to look me in the eye, and my fingers stroke his soft face. Even if I know what he's trying to say, I want him to pronounce the words.

I want him to understand this is what he wants.

I need him to say it. To ask for it. To beg.

My baby's final look tells me all I need to know, but he uses his voice to express himself anyway.

"Are we gonna break that rule too?"

Chapter 15: My Happiest January

Notes:

And here comes another chapter that I'm sure will keep your heart warm. As you know, I don't have much time lately, and finishing it has been almost as challenging as giving birth, but more will keep coming.

The next one, number 16, will be a short chapter that, honestly, I recommend you read better when the next one comes out too, so you don't get impatient.

Let me know what you think :)

PS: How's NNN going?

Chapter Text

"Let's get under the sheets, Jason," I say. "I'm a bit cold."

We're still both naked and, all of a sudden, he looks like a confused deer caught in headlights.

"O-Okay."

My hand pulls on his and he follows me under the warm covers of his bed.

He must be wondering why I haven't answered his question yet. Why we're getting in bed without giving a response to such a life-changing proposal. But, the truth is, I've been building up to this moment for so long now I can't think of anything I had planned in my brain.

I've wanted him inside me for so long that my thoughts are an absolute mess at the moment, as if I wasn't already prepared for this, for him to ask.

For this to happen.

I should be ready, right? I've pictured this very scene so many times in my brain that I should know what I need to say or what to do, to get us there. But now I'm not sure I'm prepared at all. I'm certainly not sure he is yet.

For sure, no mom should want her son as badly as I do. No mother should think of her boy's beautiful, teenage penis deep inside her the way I do. No parent should want to corrupt their child the way I've corrupted my little baby.

But I do, and how can I even explain to him how much I've thought about this? How much I've waited and fantasized about the moment he would become a man inside his mother's loving walls? And above all, how should I tell him that those are the very reasons why I know I can't let it happen yet?

Even if I can't find the way right now, I'll have to make sure to be careful and give him the answer he needs, and not just the one I crave. Jason needs to feel he's the one making this choice, even if he's the one asking and he's been guided towards this point by me.

I can't give in that easily.

I want him to ask harder.

That's why my fingers intertwine with his as he lies on the bed by my side. My eyes see his chest rise and fall nervously, breathing anxiously, and trying to find some air and rest. However, the subtle tremor I feel in the way he touches me shows that he's probably just as impatient as I am right now.

"Jason," I hear his heartbeat for a moment as I caress his chest. "I know this might confuse you a little bit, but..."

"Mom, I'm... I'm so sorry. I should've never brought that up. Forget what I just-"

"Shh." I move my index finger in front of him, signaling to my sweet boy that it's his mother's turn to talk. "Let me speak, okay?" He nods. "You know I've always tried to make the best decisions for you, my love. The only thing I've tried to do all my life has been looking for your best interest. Always. But..."

I realize that I'm speaking more to myself than to my son at this point.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't move.

I try to calm down myself, as if soothing his emotions with my loving hand rubbing on his chest could heal me too. I breathe in and out deeply, my head on the pillow as I stare at the young man, the one who's learned from me what to expect from a mother. He looks at me, worried, with those eyes – those big, gray-blue eyes that are as much mine as they are his.

Right now, seems hard to believe the way those beautiful eyes are the same that stare back at me when our lips touch. The same pair that looks up at me when I feed him with the most private part of my body.

Still shocked about his boldness, the way he interacted with my body a while ago, with so much hunger and primary desire, I'm struggling to accept how much my son's changed in these last few weeks. How he dived in my prohibited lessons, how he indulged himself in his forbidden needs and lust, and how he found his mother's body more than worthy of his love.

For a couple of seconds, I collect every one of those moments in my brain. They no longer seem as perverted as they did when they happened in my imagination just a few months ago. Now those are things we do, they're part of our daily life. Now they're real.

I made them real.

It all peaked just a moment back, with his confidence when he kissed my pussy, and his innocent, yet-curious tone when he asked me if we were going to go all the way.

And it will peak again the moment he'll give me his first time, someday soon.

Time. I need some time.

Part of me is proud to see he's finally getting there, that he wants more from me than just food or a home. That he needs more than mere kisses and cuddles; that he wants to discover what real love is. And that it's me, his mother, his dearest friend and counselor, that he wants to do this with.

That part of me feels simply happy, even ecstatic at the thought of having my little boy, almost a young man now, finally asking me to fulfill the promise I made myself when I said I'd make him mine one day. That Jason, my baby, my lover, would make love to me one day. That he'd choose me as the woman to take his virginity, just as I've been preparing him to be the boy – the future man – I was always destined to share the rest of my life with.

But the other part knows it's too soon.

Too soon.

I want to enjoy this journey a little bit more, please.

I'm sure if I build the perfect moment for us, it will be a memory Jason and I will keep until the day we die. I need him to want more, to desire this more and more, every day of his life, because that's the only way our bond, the most sacred bond there is, will evolve into something so powerful it will change our lives forever.

Again, time. I need time. We need time.

"I love you so much, Jason," I mumble, holding the urge to jump on top of him right here and right now. "So much. I love you more than I've loved anyone in my whole life, and that's something I know you see. You see everything I do for you. Sometimes too much," his fingers keep playing with mine under the blankets. The silence is tense. "But, what you're asking... I mean..." My mind races through a million different things, my lips dry as I speak, and I look away and up, to the ceiling of my son's room. But then, I turn my face to look him deeply in the eye so he can hear echoes of what I'm about to say inside his brain. "That's not something I can give you, sweetie."

Not yet.

"That would be incest, honey," I make another long pause, staring at his soul. "Incest."

…

Incest!

That's a word that probably hasn't crossed my mind as often as it should have. My own neurons have never truly given it much attention in my head, at least not for its real meaning or implications, like that of something to be avoided.

Something disgusting.

A crime.

It was like an abstract idea in the back of my head that never actually surfaced in my brain until I was forced to face it head-on. Like that word has nothing to do with what's happening between Jason and me, with what we feel and the connection we share, or at least nothing of what it has to do with how our story really is.

Incest, the forbidden word neither of us seemed to be able to pronounce until this moment.

Well, I just did, and I feel pretty fucking good about it.

The word reverberates between the walls of both my mind and his room, and I almost laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of that statement.

But my son doesn't laugh at all, and I don't even feel like trying to fool myself when I see how hard that word hits him.

As if those words were an electrical shock, the young man tenses in front of me. The expression in his eyes seems to endure a sudden, paralyzing cold, almost a pain that he's trying to conceal from me, but fails to hide.

But really, let's think about it. Let's reflect on it.

Is sticking his cock in my pussy the real barrier separating us from such a forbidden act? Really? Or did we cross that frontier when I stuck my tongue inside his mouth? When I started the continuous teasing and emotional blackmail? Or did we commit this sin at the instant his desire became to fulfill all of his mother's sexual fantasies and whims, all this time, in every single thing we do to each other?

Why do I not feel guilty anymore about this? Where did all that remorse go?

Because all of that sounds pretty fucking incestuous to me already.

He whispers something, but I don't let him talk. "I'm your mother, baby. Your mother. Do you know what that means?"

"I... Mom, of course, I know what that means," he says, his eyes looking away.

And yet, clearly shocked at himself for asking me to do such a thing, I can see something else in his expression.

He's disappointed. Sad, even.

I feel his fingers loosening up around mine, so I grab them harder, not letting go.

"No. Don't do that. Don't blame yourself again. And please, don't blame me either. Don't be upset with me. Not again," I beg. "Listen, Jason, I need you to understand this," I kiss his hand. "Please, make an effort to understand what I'm trying to say, that it's not you. I'm not rejecting you. I'd never, ever, ever, ever reject you, because you're my son. You're great, and a mother never rejects her own son. She shouldn't. I love you more than anything in this world. But that's a line... That's a line we can't cross."

It all sounds a bit fake and overdone even to my ears, like something I would hear on a soap opera or a bad romance movie. But he needs to hear it, to understand, because that's the only way our relationship will be able to continue growing.

All of a sudden, as if my loving words were an ointment for his troubles, his expression of pain dissipates slowly, now showing a more relaxed, comprehensive demeanor, and he nods calmly.

"You see what I'm trying to say?" I continue, feeling how my pussy is becoming wetter as my mind keeps getting filled with lewd and lustful images of us two, fucking each other like two horny, naked animals in heat.

"I... I see, Mom," the boy responds, a bit lost in thought.

"That's good, because... If we..." I make my tone softer. "If we went all the way, as you say... There'd be no turning back."

Is there still a turning back from this?

We both lie still in bed, with only the covers over us, our bodies still naked.

I know I could jump on top of him in a heartbeat, that I could kiss him passionately until he got hard again and I sat on his young, thick, pulsating, rock-hard penis. That I could place his tip between my slit and force it down to the base. I'd bury his whole, virgin shaft inside my motherly vagina until I impaled myself on him like a hungry snake devouring its prey. I know I could ride him and enjoy the sight of his handsome, youthful face twisting with pleasure as he'd get a taste of what's like to have his cock inside a real woman, that he could find out for the first time what it's like to cum inside the love of his life.

Shit.

Again, my stupid brain is playing games with me. It's putting that image in my head, and when everything seems within my reach, I let it slip through my fingers myself.

Fuck.

I want that as much as he does, with my heart and soul, and it hurts so much to say 'no', both in my chest and my clit, but I have to wait. We have to wait. And I'll have it, soon, but not now.

I need a moment for myself to get a grip on my senses, my hormones, and my desires, the woman's natural urge to mate. And his gaze gives me the opportunity I need, showing me what to do now.

He doesn't speak; he doesn't make any movement at all, he just lies there, staring at his mom as I close my eyes for a second. I let go of his fingers, and I slowly get up, faking my intention to leave and go back to my room.

"Sleep tight, okay?" I kiss his cheek, then his mouth, softly. "You need to rest."

But as I'm about to sit on the edge of his mattress and go down on my feet, my son holds my arm with careful force, and his touch stops me from standing up, just as I predicted.

"Please, can you… Don't go, Mom," he says, his face almost a foot away from mine. With all the respect and care he has for me, he continues speaking. "It's fine. I'm not upset... I'm not blaming anyone, okay? You don't need to leave. I won't ask about it anymore. Please. I won't ask ever again," he lies. "I swear, but please..."

There he goes.

"Sleep with me, again… I know it's weird, but… Just tonight," he concludes. "Like we did in Christmas break. I… I kinda miss that."

He pulls on my hand and makes me lie back beside him, our eyes only inches apart now. We stare at each other, the boy's expression a mix of both determination and shyness.

I give a long stare at his body and his hand under the blanket. I can feel how it's warmer than usual, even a little sweaty.

"You want me to sleep naked?"

The look on my son's face makes it clear that my question takes him by surprise, his lips curling as he nods slowly, with a cute expression of excitement in his eyes, showing me he's still a baby sometimes.

"Please," he pleads to the point that it melts my panties. "Stay. Sleep with me."

My hand touches his soft cheek and I give him a brief kiss on his forehead, then on his nose, and finally reaching his mouth.

"Okay," I whisper.

The way he responds to me makes my nipples stand erect, pushing against his bare chest under the covers, our mouths dancing with each other in a slow, almost timid kiss, which lasts a lot longer than expected.

He's such a good kisser now, and that's thanks to me.

After the intimate exchange of our saliva, he places his forehead against my nose, his eyes closed.

"Thank you," he whispers. "For everything, Mom. For helping me. For comforting me when I feel bad. For being so kind and sweet, even when I…" He doesn't finish. "I love you so much."

"No need to thank me. That's what a mother does," I say, closer to his lobule. "I love you."

I kiss him one last time before I reach out for the lamp on his nightstand and switch off the lights, plunging his room into darkness.

The teenager turns around so that my arms can embrace his slim frame. My breasts press against him, covering a nice part of his back's skin, just like they did during those Christmas nights that seem so far away now.

The warmth of a still-developing body and his naked ass, smooth and sexy, pushes back against me. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of his breath – our breaths – while I keep on kissing the nape of his neck from time to time every few seconds as he drifts off to sleep, our hands clasped in front of us. Then I realize how my boy's body becomes softer in my arms, and I do my best to keep my fingers busy by playing with his hands, my thick leg finding a home around his naked lower body.

As I slowly fall into the arms of Morpheus, the sweet, tempting thought of being able to be my boy's first comes and goes through my head one last time. I just have to be patient, make it happen when the time is right, and it'll be the perfect moment for both of us.

The best in our lives.

I wake him up between Saturday morning kisses and playful cock-rubbing from behind with my hand. Our new day begins in bed, not with a sixty-nine this time, but still kissing and jerking each other off, with his hand reaching for my butt from time to time, making my body shiver.

We spend all morning together, talking, kissing, eating, laughing, and teasing; and I get to heal his broken heart by making him forget his pain with me. In return, Jason does the same for me by loving me, caring for me, and making me feel like I'm his teenage girlfriend with butterflies in her tummy – the ones he left in there the day he was born.

My big boobs receive love from his mouth again all afternoon, sucking my nipples until they turn into two pink bullets, and they get only harder with my son's saliva and hands as I play with his cock. He kisses me pretty much all the time, and I notice my boy is getting more and more confident, almost at complete ease with his mouth on mine and his hands all around my body all day.

Then, after making him orgasm again, we talk for so many hours that we forget we should probably be doing something productive, like house chores or homework. However, seems like our time is much more precious to us today, so we continue talking, joking, and making out.

While his young spurt leaves teenage crusts of dried cum on my skin and clothes, the rest of the day feels like a beautiful, lewd dream I never want to end, with both of us completely lost in love for each other.

He even talks about the girl who hurt him so much the previous day, and I manage not to get annoyed or jealous, instead choosing to focus on his feelings and not on mine for once, the way he's talking to me about how he doesn't even know if they're still dating anymore or what's going on with her. And I don't really care about that too much now, because he's with me, and I see his love for me shining in his eyes.

Jason is in love with me.

A good mother always knows. He's as obsessed with his mother as I am with my boy, but he most likely hasn't noticed yet. I've known that for some time now.

At some point, I make the fourteen-year-old admit his mom has been a much more reliable friend to him than the girl he dates – or did date –, and I couldn't be prouder when I hear that. I was there with him in school, I helped him with his homework, I drove him to his friends' houses, and I did my best to be with him most of the time I could, even when I was at work, doing everything I could to spend quality time together and make our bond stronger.

All those years, I didn't see the fruits of my efforts most of the time. Now, I'm sure it was all worth it.

I deliberately ignore every time I've made him suffer for my selfishness or that I've manipulated him into giving me all I needed. I choose to see my motherhood as we both like it to be, like it should be: as a perfect relationship between the most wonderful couple on Earth, mother and son, even if we've already stepped beyond the bounds of what a family should be, even if we've crossed so many lines we could probably never be able to step back and be like we were before all of this started.

Because there's no turning back.

That girl, Amanda, she possibly was never a threat to our love, was she? I think I see that right now. She could never replace me as the female figure he wants and needs in his life. Because a mother's love, unlike a lover's, a wife's, or a girlfriend's, is something unique.

A man can find another lover, girlfriend, or wife one day, maybe, but no matter what, there's only one mother for each child.

Jason has one. Me.

And I'm much more than just a mother to him.

We even talk about Mario, and he's surprised when I tell him I haven't seen him since before Christmas. I haven't even spoken with him for about a week, so the poor man surely is feeling wretched, since I don't need his services anymore.

But Jason is so respectful, so awfully good, that he doesn't even show his satisfaction about it. Or rather, he makes a big effort not to show it, if nothing else, but I see how much it pleases him. He plays dumb instead, and he's even right when tells me I should speak with the doctor if I believe our relationship should be over.

What a cute, mature kid I've raised, honestly.

After dinner, I let Jason play video games on his new console, and I take a quick shower in the upstairs bathroom before joining him in the living room to read one of the many books I still need to finish. It's not that I've been slacking off lately, but I've been too distracted by our constant teasing and grumpiness to read as much as I'd like.

I join him on the sofa, wearing a black T-shirt with no bra under it and shorts. I get a blanket that covers both our legs, and we sit close, not talking for a while but enjoying each other's company in the warm living room of our house.

I read and caress his thigh, hearing his breathing and his voice cursing out loud a couple of times as he plays.

"Again, language, baby," I say.

"Sorry, Mom," he whispers and smiles as his thumbs dance around his controller's buttons.

Every now and then, I notice him turning his head and glancing at my tits, only covered by the T-shirt, my nipples poking at the soft fabric. I pretend I don't notice the weight of his eyes on me, how his penis gets a little erect as he continues playing.

And of course, I ask for a kiss from time to time, and he grants me my requests with a sweet smile. After the tenth time, when my boy sees me faking anger when he says "One second," he leaves his video game on the menu and leans over to give me the kiss I want.

It's a brief peck on my lips, which makes me ask for a second one, this time deeper and sweeter until we almost lose track of how long we've been kissing, and he goes back to his stupid game as if nothing had happened. As if this fourteen-year-old boy hadn't made out with his own mother on the living room couch, not only once but several times today. And I almost laugh, realizing how natural it's becoming for both of us now.

What a beautiful day.

That night, he asks to sleep with me again, and I suggest we go to my room.

"We're going to need a big bed for you and me," I say, teasing him a bit. "Do you wanna join me in mine tonight?"

Later, after giving him the sloppiest blowjob of his life, almost choking myself on his cum, we sleep naked one more time, and one of the best twenty-four hours in my forty-three-year-old life comes to an end much to my sorrow.

Within the next few days, everything settles down pretty quickly, like it was destined to be.

It's really funny, actually, how the line between a mother and a lover has become blurry for me during what I know has been the happiest January in my life.

One second I'm scolding him, or praising him when he gets a good grade or does something for me; then the other I'm touching his sensitive thing, masturbating him and almost making him ejaculate inside of his pants. Unbelievably, when that's over, I just kiss him with the same mouth that was full of his cum at some point that day, and I make him lunch or ask if he needs help with homework.

I don't know when it all became so easy for us to shift gears. Or so fast. But it feels so natural and organic when he calls me 'Mom' the moment I give him a kiss, and when I do things only a lover would do, like rubbing his thigh during dinner, or just playing with him with my eyes and a smile, as if he were a piece of candy I'd like to gobble up in the middle of our kitchen.

Then, just like that, we get back to the mundane chores of daily life again, and Jason is as carefree as any normal, teen boy would be when I remind him of his responsibilities.

I get frustrated when he says "Later" and leaves his chores for another time of the day, but he manages to melt my heart when he tells me "I love you" every time he finds me in our house and he stops for a moment to kiss me.

But even if today it's as easy as it's always been for me to be strict and commanding with my son, I see him growing bolder with each day that passes. Now, he comes to me more often than ever, even teasing me at the worst times, like when he asks to touch my breasts from behind while I'm busy working in my office. Or when I'm cooking or vacuuming, and I catch him out of the corner of my eye with that smile, knowing full well he's up to no good, with that spark of desire in his eyes.

And I do the exact same thing with him except for one obvious difference. And that is that I never ask for permission, because a mother never needs her son's approval to give him the love he craves.

He can be doing his homework at his desk, with a glass of orange juice beside his computer, and I'll come behind him to caress his chest, kiss him on the back of his head, and touch his groin with the palm of my hand, massaging with my fingertips and nails on his head, as if it needed some checking out every few minutes. He grows hard under my touch, and a tiny, perverted smile, a trick I'm not sure when I taught him, appears at the corner of his mouth as I loosen my grip, plant another kiss on his head, and whisper, "Just dropped by to say 'hi' to my baby."

Right now, his smooth, teenage cock is for me to enjoy every morning when we wake up together. Sometimes, I interrupt his breakfasts with my hand playing with him under the table, and before taking him to school, my mouth becomes the perfect receptacle for him to unload all of his delicious teenage sperm until we head out for the day. I use my lips, my tongue, my breasts, or my hand to take care of him during the day, whenever I want, wherever I want; but only when he's done his homework or when he's done the chores for the day. It gets even rare for us to go through an entire afternoon without my hand stroking his penis on his pants. Even on those nights, when he has school the next day, I still manage to tease him every evening, forcing my boy to have another orgasm during dinner time. And if the moment we get in bed we're still hungry for each other, I'll gladly finish the night by getting that salty spunk out of him with my mouth one final time, even Back-to-back.

Then, we sleep together in my bed, every single night and always. Occasionally, he wears his briefs at bedtime, but most of the nights I take them off from him and we embrace each other, finding warmth and solace in the other's arms, just like we did for the first time that Christmas' Eve night almost a month back.

The few times I suggest he go back to his bed if he wants to, he answers me with the same, sweet "I prefer to sleep with you. I sleep better that way, Mom."

He's so mine.

And keeping his word, the fourteen-year-old boy also makes his mother's needs a new priority. The very moment I tell him my clitoris needs to be rubbed and sucked, he's happy to get his face buried between my legs right before I verbalize my wish. And dear Lord, God knows how much I enjoy watching his eager visage, all sweet and soft, with those pimples here and there, and his eyes full of innocence and joy; it's all enough to get me there, making my toes curl, thrust against him, and gush all over his hungry lips.

It's only fair that he has as much of my body as I have his, right?

"You're just horny all the time, aren't you?" I tell him one day.

"I guess so. It feels like my own mother put a spell on me."

I laugh tenderly, because this is the Jason I know. The one who jokes around whenever he gets the chance, even with a hint of lust and embarrassment in his tone. He's still a shy boy though, and I like that about him, but I like it even more when his bold side appears. It makes it special. Unexpected. It shows his confidence when it's him who reaches out for my breasts while we're kissing and it makes me shiver in his hands, or when his voice sounds manly as he suggests I keep my hands to myself for once and let him please me, all by himself.

Because I know this is all my fault.

I've awakened the sexual monster inside of him, and I love that little brat so much.

So, yeah, that's how our life has been for about a week now. We've become insatiable.

In a way, I can't stop thinking he's such a privileged young man. I mean, how many boys his age have the opportunity to grow up in a home with such a wonderful mother as I am? The kind that can go from an emotional shoulder to cry on when he needs, to a lover and sex teacher when he wants? Someone who knows when to give him a stern look when she feels like he's becoming too spoiled, and when to look at him with lust and need? How lucky is he to know that I won't stop acting like a concerned mother even when his glans are caressed by my tongue? How many boys can take such a full ride when it comes to love in the hands of such an expert and passionate woman as I am?

How many kids his age can enjoy such a perfect life as Jason has with me?

It's no surprise it doesn't take long before we realize we've fallen into a pattern. A pattern neither of us would want to change, and it's in the midst of one of those pleasant days that I plan a little something for him.

Today I'm going to be more of a lover than I've ever been.

The black thong I bought just a few days ago barely contains my pussy lips. I pair it with black heels too, and considering I'm already a pretty tall woman, they make me tower over six feet in height, which is exactly why I don't usually wear any.

I dress in a beautiful tight tank top specifically designed for racks like mine. It covers everything and shows nothing except for my often stiff nipples, clearly not restrained by a bra today, showing how naturally huge they are without any artificial help as they hang down heavily on my chest and touch my stomach just enough.

When I look at myself in the mirror, my hair in a sophisticated bun, I realize I can be both the best and the sexiest mother in the world.

"Woah," I say to the woman reflecting in the mirror. "You've outdone yourself today, Samantha."

Jason never asks for sexy clothes and he wouldn't dare either. I'm sure he probably loves me better in my daily clothes than in fancy underwear anyway, so I dress the way he likes to see me best, the way it's most comfortable for me. But I've never given him the opportunity to see me wearing anything like this.

I can't even remember the last time I rocked a sultry look like today. It's probably been too long, but when you have a son to look after, you just don't get that many occasions to get dressed up.

The last time I got ready for a night out on the town was with Mario, but that was more of a doll up than a 'look that'll drive him mad' kind of getup.

Jason wants to see his mother when he looks at me, but that's not always what I want, even if it makes me a little bit sick to think what would he think of his mother if he saw her like this. However, it's time for him to learn that a woman – a mother – can be many different things at once, even if he might think otherwise. I need him to learn that. I want to show him that the woman who's the best at being the person who feeds, takes care of, and teaches him how to become a good man in life, can also be the best lover a boy his age can hope for. I need him to know I'm more than that, and I'm doing all of this because I want him to never, ever, in his whole life, look for a girlfriend, a lover, or a wife other than his mother.

And I don't want him to get bored either.

But I'm not entirely doing it for him. I'm doing this mostly for myself.

"Today is for me," I say.

Then, I make the final adjustments and walk down the stairs, wearing the sluttiest thong and tank top combo, a perfect match for my heels. As I arrive on the ground floor, I start my cooking ritual for his school day dinner, all while waiting for my sweet son to come home from practice, which I missed today in order to prepare his surprise.

When he comes home from soccer and he sees me like that, taller than ever, wearing only a tank top and the new piece of lingerie, he doesn't pay any attention to the food I've prepared for him with much care and attention.

His eyes, instead, seem glued to the meaty flesh that pops out of my skimpy, black piece of underwear and especially to the flesh of my chest that, looking at me from behind, protrudes on the sides of my figure as I cook.

"Hey, baby. How was practice?" I ask, as if my whole attention was on the food and not the shock in my boy's face. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it today. I had things to take care of here."

"U-Uh... Good. Practice was good."

I keep my head half-turning towards him while my hand continues to move a wooden spoon in one of the pans with food cooking there, and my back, ass, and legs on full display.

"I missed you a lot," I continue. "It gets a bit dull at home all by myself when I can't see my boy. There's nothing that fills this lonely house as much as the presence of my sweet fourteen-year-old," I chuckle a little and stop the play for a second. I turn my head around completely so he can see my whole face and body. "But it was for a good cause."

The young man is still dressed in his soccer uniform and a big jacket that covers his upper body.

Despite I don't know how many times I've asked him to buy a sports bag for soccer, his school backpack with his daily clothes and surely a couple of books inside hangs from his shoulders, and since he's too shy to shower with his teammates, the dry sweat from running and playing soccer clings to his face, which is still a bit pink.

He doesn't move a muscle as his eyes run from my face down to the cleavage that exposes almost half of my massive breasts and continues down to the area of my inner thigh where the thong barely hides anything of importance, as my fat labia lips threaten to spill out of the lacey, skimpy piece of lingerie.

I grab my phone from the counter and pretend to pay attention to it, ignoring how he can't stop looking at me.

If you think about it, it's ridiculous how a boy that's so used to seeing me naked and with his own cum all over me, could still blush when his mother is barely clothed in front of him.

It's endearing.

"W-Why are you dressed like that, Mom?"

I smile and put the phone away, my face still a little turned away from him and my attention seemingly elsewhere, all to tease him and drive him crazy.

"Like what, honey? Am I not allowed to dress up for my boy?" I give him the side of my eye and continue cooking, leaving my back exposed once again for his pleasure.

I make a show of bending over a little to take something from the lower drawer. As I stand back up, my hands with cooking utensils still in hand, my ass in his field of view, I'm able to see out of the corner of my eye how my son is almost frozen in his spot.

"Well, at least tell me what you think. I hope it doesn't make you think any less of your own mother."

The teenager is so overwhelmed by this that his voice can't find the words. I crack up and finally turn around to look him in the eye.

I'm loving how I can be so hypnotizing for my boy sometimes.

"Aren't you going to answer?"

"I… I do," he replies quickly. "You… You look beautiful. It looks very good on you."

"Are you sure?" I ask, attempting a seductive tone, but still a little bit unsure if this kind of underwear is meant for a woman like me. "Look, you see? My ass is not what it used to be, sweetie. I think I might've gained some pounds here," I say, rubbing my right ass cheek. "It's been a long time since the last time I bought a piece like this, you know? Your father never seemed to care too much, and with all these stretch marks, and cellulite here and there... Whatever, do you really like it?"

My son seems unable to speak or even move. It's fine, I get why. He's never seen me like this before.

"I have to tell you, Mom, I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Come on, baby. Don't play dumb," I giggle. "You know how I worry sometimes about my body. I know I should work out once in a while, but taking care of this house and you can be such an extreme sport too."

I see how my boy's eyes focus on the curve of my waist and then travel all the way up to the round, enormous mountains that are my tits, now barely contained by the fabric of my top, which also highlights the softness of my stomach.

"Mom, really, I don't know what that is. I mean, I've heard of cellulite and stuff before, but... I don't really know how that works. You look… Fine. More than fine."

He should be old enough to know, but the innocent boy really has no clue what I'm talking about. And if he knows about it, then I can bet he doesn't care about it either.

"Oh, you silly," I chuckle. "You really don't know, huh? You see the lines in here?" I say, pointing to the sides of my booty, where I'm sure he sees the small, visible signs of age. "And... you see that little mark here?" I point at the upper part of my tits. "Those are all stretch marks. They come when your skin stretches and can't go back to its original form. With this thing on me…" I say, holding the underwear's ribbons, "I mean, it's not dramatic, but nobody likes to see them on their bodies."

He looks at me intently and shows a subtle nod.

"And cellulite," I continue, now grabbing with my fingers a fair amount of the skin in my thighs, "it's a… How can I explain this to you? It's a dimple-like pattern of fat under your skin, sweetheart, see? All these small folds. It's not like I have much of it, but it's there."

His eyes move along the small imperfections I see too when I look at myself in the improvised mirror that the oven provides me. His expression, which was one of excitement a moment before, seems now frozen in a mix of curiosity and confusion, as if he's not sure what I'm talking about, if it even makes any sense at all, or if he even cares about it.

I've always liked my body, probably too much, but that doesn't imply I'm totally fine with everything that comes with being a woman my age. Sometimes, I can't avoid those negative thoughts in my head, the ones that make me question how a forty-three-year-old mother can wear an outfit like this and call herself attractive, much less seductive, even if I am all that to him and much more. And still, I can't deceive myself, not even with my own insecurities, because I'm sublime, alluring, exuberant, and I know I could make any man succumb even more easily to me than I've brought Jason to his knees in my domain.

Often, while it used to happen more often before he met Amanda, there are still times when Jason's self-esteem takes a hit, kind of like any teenager these days. He'll come and ask me if I believe he's too skinny, maybe if his bones are sticking out too much. I always tell him the same thing, what I really think, that his body is perfect for a boy his age, with his sinewy muscles and his soft, flawless skin.

"Isn't that like... super common in women?" He asks.

"You're right about that," I give him a half smile. "In men too, actually. Every man, every boy, and every girl or woman has some imperfections. Even if you can't see them. There's something wrong in almost everybody, baby, and it can be beautiful to look at, or it can be ugly, and that depends on each person's eyes."

"Mom," he says, almost cutting me off.

"Yes?"

"I see no imperfections."

The look on his face, the conviction in his words, and how they reach the center of my soul make my legs feel like jelly, almost bringing a tear to my slit.

My little man goes on.

"Honestly, I think those things you said look kind of... sexy. They look just right for you. I mean, if I had to choose between a tiny ass with no flesh and a skin as smooth as glass… Sorry, let me rephrase. Your skin is smooth too," he says, looking away for a tiny moment, and then turning to stare at the booty I know he loves so much, "But if I had to pick between that and… one with meat, like yours... just the way it is, with those stretch marks and cellu-whatever... I'd go for yours in a second, Mom. No doubt. Always."

Well, I bet Amanda's is just like the first he described.

I take the food off the heat.

I walk the two steps that separate us, the sound of my heels echoing in the room, and with the palm of my hand I cup my son's chin, forcing him to look into my eyes and no where else, as he blushes hard and a big smile comes to my lips. The scent of dry sweat comes to my nose, mixed with the smell of the fresh grass from the school's field coming from his kit, and it's delicious. It makes me want to do nothing but ravish my little boy right then and there, and tell him to strip naked, so I can suck the sweat off his cock, balls, and face.

"I know," I tease again, smiling and running a hand over his chest. "I just love messing with you. But you've earned your reward with those compliments for your man-validation needing mother."

With his bag still hanging on his back and the soccer shorts outlining the perfect form of his boyish erection, my hands caress the collar of his jersey while the look of shock doesn't disappear from my boy's face. I'm almost tempted to drop down on my knees right then and there and suck his cock with the ferocity of a beast, but I hold back the urge for now.

Instead, I make it short. My tongue penetrates my son's mouth, and his head tilts up to accommodate for the height difference between us, our lips smacking against each other, wet and needy, all while Jason's hands, no longer so shy to be close to my body, find my hips. He holds me, grabbing my sides as I pull him against me. His hard boner finds my leg, making me get a more dominant grip of the hair on his nape, our kiss now full of hunger and need.

It feels so good to know how my own son is growing in both experience and boldness, all thanks to his devoted mother.

"Ah, Mom, my hair," the boy winces and lets out a small moan.

"Sorry," I mumble against his lips, and my hand reaches the hem of his soccer shirt. My fingers trail upwards along his abs and stomach until they touch the bottom of his chest. "Your mom's weak, honey. She can't keep her hands off you," I say, our faces just an inch from each other, as our hot breaths intermix between us. "She can't stop herself."

I continue the assault, and because of the five or six inches I have on him in my heels, I have to stretch my arm down as far as possible for my fingers to play with the outline of his erection. It's there, already pulsing hard for me, just waiting for his mom, for me, to have fun with it until it releases another load of that creamy spunk only he's capable of producing.

"You don't want me to take care of this?" I ask him with a playful tone.

My hands explore his bulge over his pants and he squirms, and when my fingertips move around his sensitive head, my little Jason shutters against me.

"Maybe," he says, his grin full of teenage lust. "I'm not really sure yet. You... You'll have to convince me."

Is this tired, sweaty, and smelly youngster actually teasing me?

The same boy who got – and gets – all uneasy and timid every time I gave him a peck on the lips when there were people around to see us? The one that I had to train with hours of caresses and kisses for him to become more comfortable with me touching him? The same young man who looked at me in disbelief when I first gave him a handjob in his bed last November? The one that had his mind blown the first time he saw me swallowing his cum?

Damn, baby.

He's learning.

"Really? You think your own mom can't convince you to have fun with her?" I giggle uncontrollably. "Because I will not tolerate that attitude, young man."

My fingers slide inside his underwear and I free my son's cock from its prison, the precious shaft pointing upfront in a perfect line to my body. I cup my palm around the boy's shaft, and Jason's eyes roll to the back of his head, his knees bending for a second like he's going to lose his balance.

"Sit there, my big boy."

The pressure of my hand on his shoulder, making him sit on one of the dining chairs around the table, is gentle, almost sweet, but when he gets there, I can only laugh at the sight.

It's almost pathetic, in a way.

A fourteen-year-old handsome boy, still a bit shy in moments like this, with his Blue River High shorts and briefs around his ankles, sitting uncomfortably because his backpack continues to inconvenience his posture in the chair, while the thing between his legs stands proud and hard like a red-hot rod, all swollen, veiny and leaking with pre-cum.

I don't need any other words or invitation.

My knees touch the floor as my body falls in front of his, and my lips start to kiss the smoothness of his balls. My fingers massage the wrinkly surface of my boy's little nutsack, and then, I travel upwards to the base of his penis, all the way to the pinkness of the glans.

"I can't stop thinking about this thing all day, sweetie. How bad is that? A mother thinking about her boy's penis like that?" My confession is almost a whisper.

I laugh as my hand holds him close, stroking it at the base of his shaft and bringing my face even closer to his erection, breathing the sweet and pungent odor that comes from his penis and sweat accumulated around his thighs.

"All day, honey. Even while I work in my office. Even if it's during a meeting or a conference call. It doesn't matter. I think about this beautiful thing and its owner," I say, although I know its real owner is the one stroking it.

Jason's lips remain closed, his body trembling with the sensation of the softness of my hands and my breath on his shaft.

Then I release my tits, making them bounce a little more than necessary when they come out of my tank top in a blink.

I point at their upper surface. "See? These are the stretch marks I was talking about. You can see them better now," I continue, caressing my bosom with one hand while I masturbate him with the other. "When I was young, these were already pretty big, you know? You should see the pictures, Jason. They were just big," I smile, "but not this much. When I had you, my boobs, my body, they grew a little bigger." I sigh, getting my thong moister with the fluids slowly coming out. "That's why I don't hate them, Jason. They're heavy, they hurt sometimes. But I don't hate them, and not just because they're pretty. I love them because they're marks of your arrival, of my love. My love for you, sweetheart. Of all the love I had, I still have, and will always have for you. For you."

"Mom," the boy almost cries when I imprison his manhood between them, finding a spot between his legs and letting them fall on the sides

I spit on the tiny gap between them, a drop of saliva that rolls down the gap, moistening them up as I increase the pressure of my tits around him.

I know he likes to see that, the wet, glistening tip going out of my cleavage, then sinking again inside the two pillows that hold him tight and warm.

We've tried this before a few times, but he usually gets impatient and I end up sucking his handsome cock. However, today, I see my son is trying to hold on, to enjoy the sensation of them enveloping his teenage thing, and I'm doing my best to give him as much pleasure as possible, not rushing, just stroking, rubbing, and squeezing.

So, I keep pressing the flesh in circular motions with my hands up and down against my boy's penis. When I make sure the head is pressed tight, even though his is a good size for his age, I'm able to hide it all between the fat of my bosoms with no effort, the cockhead comes out a little, and then I hide it one more time.

And the process starts again.

The boy starts moving his hips to my rhythm with subtle shakes, fucking my boobs slowly but steadily, and my eyes remain fixed on his, watching the way his expression changes every time he sinks in between them, enjoying their warmness and wetness.

"I love your body, Mom," he whispers. "I swear. Your tits..."

He caresses my hands, and I replace them with his, now holding his mom's boobs, letting him choose the strength of the squeeze. My torso keeps moving, but my fingers find his legs and I scratch them while his cock disappears between the fleshy orbs of my breasts.

"They're yours," I encourage him, kissing the head of his dick when it peeks out between my breasts. "They were from the very first time I breastfed you."

I smile at the look in his eyes when I say those words. His hands look even tinier than mine in comparison to my enormous rack, and he keeps assembling them, sometimes too much, but never hard enough for a pervert like his mother. I can feel his love for it – for the way they jiggle under his grasp, the softness of my skin in contrast with the hardness of his member.

And when his breathing stops and his body suddenly paralyzes, I know he's just on the edge.

My hands smash into his, squeezing even tighter, making his penis disappear one last time between them as a final, delicious squashing. The muscles in his stomach tremble, his abs tighten, and the tension in his legs makes him even harder.

The moment he tries to say something, he lets out a sound I have never heard before. A moan, almost like a growl, deep from inside his chest as he thrusts upwards and his penis emerges from the top of my tits' dividing line.

Then, when I was expecting a normal orgasm from my son, his first spurt of cum leaves his cock, going a mile a second, and crashes against the skin of my neck.

"Oh, My God!" I cry. "Jason!"

But Jason is busy, breathing with his mouth open now, and another thick, warm load hits the underside of my chin. A couple of seconds later, a third weaker stream hits the top of my boobs, and it continues like that for half a minute.

"Mom!"

The hotness of his next loads burns my flesh when they touch my tits, filling the valley of them with the rest of his hot liquid. His penis keeps dripping, the white, viscous liquid flowing down my chest as his cock moves inside his mother's breasts once again, shuddering and throbbing.

His smell hits me, mixed with those coming from the sweat and the food, almost making me savor his delicious juice on my tongue. It's strong, manly, and powerful, and I feel myself getting even hornier when I feel it on my skin and flowing down to my stomach.

Dear Lord, it doesn't seem like he can stop cumming.

His whole body seems to spasm and tense all over again, like a horse about to get rid of an uncomfortable rider. He grunts and shakes his legs, almost losing control of his body while my elbows hold him steady on the chair and my hands keep massaging the fatness of my breasts as if to keep him focused and still.

A smile divides my face, an expression full of pure joy, and a whole minute later, when he's all finished, my boobs are a complete mess.

And I love it.

"Mom," he whispers again.

My hands slowly go up to his face, and I pull him into a deep kiss.

I surround him, my tits smearing his sports clothes while my lips don't want to release his. Of course, he kisses me back, not caring about the semen resting on my neck and tits.

I'm there for just a couple of minutes, leaning forward, staining his clothes with his own semen, as my fingers explore his cheeks, neck, and then the back of his hair, all the while continuing to kiss my son's gorgeous, plump lips.

We don't need words now.

When I stand up a while later, my knees hurt from the way they've been pressed against the floor for so long, but I couldn't care less, just like that day in the bathroom cabin at the lake.

I take my new black thong off, and, with the sickest grin of satisfaction appearing on my mug, I hold it in line with Jason's face so that he can see the way my juices are moistening the crotch's inner area.

Then, shocked now that I'm using the soft fabric as a towel to dry his penis carefully, and then my own body, he says something. "What... What are you doing, Mom? Those are your new panties."

"You know these aren't panties, Jason. It's a thong. And it's fine," I reply, "it's not the most comfortable underwear in the world either. I really liked how you looked at it, though. It was specifically meant to tease you. But you know what? You're right. There's no need to take it off."

To his surprise, the little puddles of seed on the silk remain there the second I put it back on after wiping his cock and my boobs, and I get goosebumps in my back sensing the colder cum on my pubic hair and slit, as my juices and my boy's semen mix together and start dripping inside my underwear.

"But the stains..." he points out.

I let my hair down and shake my head.

"You mean these ones here?" I ask, pointing at my messy piece of underwear. "I'll take care of the stains, honey." I caress the wet, silky fabric of the black thong and let him watch how the semen slowly dries into it. "This... I won't get rid of it just yet. Maybe tonight, when I shower," I say, getting close and pressing my lips against his in another motherly peck.

Jason's eyes follow me, still unable to comprehend what he's seeing. "Mom, you… Can't you get...?"

My gaze widens at the sound of that.

He can't be serious. He can't be asking that.

"Pregnant?" I die laughing at the idea of being knocked up by a couple of drying cum stains on my pubes and thong at forty-three. "Really? No, baby. That's not how it works, Jason!"

I kneel again and pull him close to me by the chin, giving him another silly peck on his nose.

"I... Alright. I just... I didn't know, Mom. I thought maybe…" His gaze flying away again, showing his shame as he keeps his body still, not able to find a response to me talking about getting pregnant.

"Don't worry about that, sweetie," I kiss his ear. "This was just another proof of how much I love my son."

Still laughing, my following embrace helps me notice his school bag remains there, on his back, so I make him turn around with my hands and take it off him. I peel off his soccer jersey too, and after that, I bend my knees to remove his underwear and his socks, so he raises his legs a little awkwardly.

My lips kiss his cock and his stomach one last time before standing up. The smell, the smoothness, and his boyish face looking at me in awe make it hard for me to stop myself, but I need to stop if I want to feed him dinner, because if I don't, I'll end up eating something else entirely.

How has it become so natural for us to act this wicked all the time?

"Now go shower," I command. "I'll take care of your stuff. You can come and have something to eat with me once you're nice and clean."

Before doing as I say, Jason looks at my hanging mounds once again and then at his backpack on the kitchen table, where I left it.

"Can you take my school bag to my room?" He asks.

"You spoiled brat," I reply with a grin. "Sure, I can do that for you."

Jason turns around to start his way to the bathroom.

I give a playful smack on his cute, soft butt, encouraging him to hurry up ahead. "Go," I command, giggling a bit, watching the teenager's naked body jump as he leaves me there, ready to keep doing stuff for him while my pussy lips are bathed in his seed.

Chapter 16: You Shall Honor Your Father and Your Mother

Notes:

Hey everyone!

First of all, sorry for the wait, but as I mentioned in a comment here, I've been dealing with some anxiety and struggling to find the motivation and time to write.

This Christmas, one of the things I prioritized was to do a mental reset and get back to writing normally. I wanted to have the chapter ready before responding to all of you, so now that it's published, over the next few hours, I'll be catching up on all the comments, messages, and everything that has come my way in the last month.

Oh, and one more thing, I know I said this was going to be a short chapter, but in the end, I added a scene that took me more time to write, turning it into a regular-length chapter, so forget what I said.

Thanks to everyone for the support and for continuing to care about these two perverted devils!

Chapter Text

"Come on, Jason! It's just a kiss," I say, and the young man checks his surroundings.

It's still early in the morning, but the teenagers are already crowding together outside the Blue River High building, ready to start their school day. It's pretty cold and humid outside the car. Here instead, in vast space between our seats, it feels nice and warm enough to not freeze.

It feels safe.

Jason looks at me from the side, displaying those shy, innocent, adorable blue eyes of his.

"There's too many people," he mumbles.

"Oh, yeah? That's too bad. Look at all these people waiting to watch my boy kiss his mother in public," I turn my face from side to side and see not one soul paying any attention to my car.

He chuckles a bit and shakes his head. "That's not funny."

"It's kind of funny."

My son smiles, still looking a little bit unsure of what to do.

"It's just a mother-son kiss, Jason. Same as always. Nothing weird about it. I'm not asking you to French me in front of your friends, okay?" I explain, but Jason rolls his eyes at my comment, and I give him a smirk, holding his chin to bring his attention back to me. "Hey, I'm not dumb. I know the risk we're taking. All the time. Just trust me."

His gaze lingers on mine, and the tension slowly melts away from his features. He's always liked that I can make him laugh even in situations like this one.

I know my boy. I've got him.

"So? Will you let your poor mother go back home without her kiss? On a freezing morning like today's?" I ask him again, already bringing my face towards his. "That's so cruel."

A last moment of hesitation takes him, his eyes darting to the outside, then back to my lips, and finally to my eyes. "Okay. Just a peck."

His lips are so soft and gentle when we connect for our little smooch, making me want to suck them until it hurts him a little.

But I'm good. I behave myself, because I know how this could end up.

I rub his cheek one more time, and then, my fingers travel down his jaw until my thumb is pressed on his lips. I wish I could show everybody what we have.

"How about one more?" I ask with the same innocent tone I've used all along. "This is the last one. I swear."

"Just one more."

I nod and bite my lower lip, and like that, our second kiss arrives quicker than the previous one, but it's somehow slower and softer, my body leaning in front, closer to my boy. I hold back again, keeping my lips closed like a good mother should.

For just a second, I wish I could open his schoolbag, get inside, and hide there all day, watching him walk through his school life, and I'm so distracted by that thought that I give him a quick, sensual lick on his cute lips as a parting gift before we separate.

He flinches back, eyes widened, and looks around.

"Mom!"

I giggle like a dumb bitch at the look on his face, knowing we haven't done anything too extreme, but the fact that his mother has taken advantage of the moment and done something as slightly sexual as that surrounded by some guys his age is more than enough to make him anxious.

"It was an accident," I smile, shrugging and moving to give him a peck on the cheek. "Now go."

Two kisses later, Jason leaves the car, relieved no one saw his beautiful – but perverted – mother do something like that.

He starts his walk toward the school and turns his head one last time. I roll down the window to send him a flying kiss, and I see the little blush that creeps into his face before turning around.

As the boy nears the big building, I start the car, but I don't drive away just yet. I'm a good mother. I'll leave only when I know he's inside, safe and sound.

"Your mom loves you very, very much, Jason," I whisper. "See you in the afternoon."

And with that, I finally pull off, turning my back on my son when my gaze drifts toward the girl rushing into school.

I slow the car down just enough to keep an eye on her.

She's still far away, but I can recognize that posture from anywhere. For a couple of seconds, my hands remain on the wheel, my gaze following the young, small, thin brunette, who, unlike my boy, doesn't bother to say hi to the students and workers at the entrance.

I feel my blood start to boil, but I'm able to remain calm and not start the day on the wrong foot. I have work to do today, and I really don't need this now.

Icily, I remind myself of how the little whore has become a secondary problem for my interests over the last couple of weeks. She hasn't once tried to approach Jason since that tense conversation she and I had on the phone. At least, that's what my son's been telling me.

I need to trust him for the sake of our relationship.

However, the thing that has really caught my attention is how the little slut has stopped being that insistent and annoying with Jason to the point where I almost forget about her sometimes.

Of course, I can't help but feel sick when I remember he gets to see the stupid girl every fucking school day, and although he swears she barely looks him in the face, or even talks to him at all, the idea of her being in the same class as him still gets under my skin and makes me all paranoid.

Because, yeah, when he told me he was pretty sure that he and the scrawny Amanda were done in one go, I finally decided to dump Mario once and for all. Well, maybe not 'once and for all' exactly, given that I chose to keep an ace up in my sleeve. I told him how I needed my own time to think, that my divorce was still an open wound, that my relationship with my son was all I was thinking about, and, even if I missed his company, I wasn't sure when I'd be ready to get involved in any new relationship.

I have to say I ended up pretty proud of how I performed in that conversation.

Mario answered with understanding and sweetness, as always. He assured me he was very busy at the clinic too and was willing to give me all the time and space I needed, but he made it very clear he didn't know if he'd be available then, when I felt ready, especially if I took a long time to talk with him again.

Still, I'm very sure he will if I ask him to come back to me. Because I know men like Mario. They never turn down a chance with a woman like me.

So, again, as I drive, the crazy idea that this is all a test for the next weeks to come – for the moment Jason will ask again – hits me and leaves me strained.

With the coldest determination, I've built a very clear ceiling for my son in our relationship: the fourth base rule, which keeps both his ultimate urges and mine at bay for now.

But things are already at risk of taking an awkward turn if I'm not careful enough with my boundaries. I can't have Jason starting to get frustrated over the limits I've drawn. I need him to be eager to try, to ask me again, to go on with this game as long as it takes, even if he has to wait a bit longer.

I know I'll do everything in my power to ensure he doesn't grow bored of it, of me, because if that were to happen, I'd be the most miserable woman on earth.

Timing is crucial, and of course, as the adult, it falls on me to lead and supervise this slow progression. I want him to yearn for more each day, for many years to come.

That's why making that happen, and still not forgetting I'm his mom, is a seriously tough task. There's no way am I gonna risk messing up all we've built, all the little steps I've taken over these last few months.

"Fuck," I tell myself, suddenly feeling the boiling anxiety rising up from the pit of my stomach.

I mean, how is this supposed to work just fine? Seriously, what's a mom supposed to do if she wants to keep a grip on her son's heart? To avoid losing her boy's affection? Why am I freaking out about not being the center of his desires anymore?

Suddenly, I'm barely able to breathe.

What if people find out? What if my family finds out? Sweet Jesus, what if my father knows about the way his own daughter behaves around her fourteen-year-old son? What will happen if my parents discover the kind of relationship Jason and I have, the way we act? How is this situation even sustainable?

Why am I still so fucking afraid?

I shake my head, doing my best to stop myself from overthinking, to forget about all those silly fears, and to move on with my day, focusing on what matters.

"It's okay, Sam. Stop being such a wuss. He's yours," I mumble. "He's yours," I repeat, convincing myself and calming my heart. "Your son loves you more than anyone," I keep telling myself. "Nothing will change that."

How many things was I afraid of before I finally understood that, maybe, to be the best mother possible, I first needed to become the woman to make my boy's heart throb with desire? I'm just facing another of those moments when I have to get out of my comfort zone and go into the unknown.

I just need to be brave. Just once more. And then again, and again, and again.

Right now, what I actually need to ask myself is how far I'm willing to go with this. How long am I gonna keep myself at that imaginary line, as close as I can be to it, but never really crossing it?

Because his motherly conditioning is still setting in.

What are his desires, his expectations? What if he's unable to take the leap and ask his own mother to be his first? Will he have the guts? Or is that a decision only I can make? What's he going to do if I tell him he can finally have that ultimate prize? Will he take it, or is he going to chicken out?

What if he chickens out?

Oh, fuck. What if he chickens out?!

I don't know if I can deal with that kind of rejection. I'm fucking anxious again.

"Stop!" I yell, hitting the steering wheel with the palm of my hand. "Get your shit together."

I close my eyes, breathe in and out for a second, and I remind myself there's only one way to do this right. And I already know how. I've meditated, reflected, and calculated this for days and days now.

How much do I want from my boy?

And the answer is pretty obvious: I have to become his first. It's the only way for both of us to overcome the mental barriers I'm afraid might keep Jason away. But God knows that's not the only thing I want.

Everything.

I want everything.

And just a few hours later, everything is about to collapse again, when my phone rings with an incoming call I was hoping would never happen.

All around me, moms and dads cheer for their sons as they run on the field. It's the first game in a series of friendly matches for Blue River High School soccer team before Spring Season, and Jason, who plays as a right-back – I think that means he's usually on the right side –, is getting his ass kicked on the pitch by a team that seems much better prepared than ours.

I've shown up in practice all week, watching from the minuscule stands as his coach yelled at my son and his teammates to build the physical strength and stamina they're going to need until the season ends.

My boy, the only fourteen-year-old among the fifteen and sixteen-year-olds in the team, isn't the most skilled, strong, or tall, but he's fast as hell compared to the other boys. His legs seem to fly in the pitch when he dribbles between his opponents or runs all along the sideline. He tries hard like he always does, and I can see he enjoys every time he gets the chance to make a play or steal the ball from the other team.

And I won't lie, it turns me on to see his swollen butt bouncing around as he runs. His toned, pale legs make me think of all the times I've held them while I sucked his teenage cock. And those soccer pants are short enough for me to see his white briefs from time to time as he jumps and bends, getting me in the mood to keep yelling his name.

But, if I'm being honest, he's making me even prouder than horny.

My phone keeps ringing.

"Come on, Jason!" I scream, getting my phone from my bag as it keeps ringing. "Run, run!"

I'm busy staring at him, so I don't take the trouble to look at the screen to read the number calling. My eyes remain fixed on the field as the ball keeps moving between players, but the voice on the other side of the line catches my attention right away.

"Sam?"

"John?" I reply, my eyes widening and my face turning pale.

"Yeah, it's me."

I feel the sudden need to breathe in, deeply. This is probably the worst call I could ever receive.

"Why are you calling?" I ask.

Abruptly, as if the stars had aligned and the universe decided to throw a party at me, out of nowhere, my son's English teacher, Tanya Williams, shows up right next to my seat. Just like me, it seems she's here to catch the high school team's game.

With this much happening at once – my ex-husband's voice in my ear, my son's soccer game, and the quick greeting I exchange with the English teacher –, I can hardly focus on any of the things going on. I can barely hear John talk over the cheering and screaming of the people surrounding me, so I use one of my fingers to plug one of my ears to try and focus better on what he's saying.

"I'm sure you know why. It's been about a year since the day we signed the papers. Six months since last summer," he says, still talking. "Since I last saw Jason."

Son of a bitch.

I knew.

How does he even have the nerve?

This man has been ignoring his son for months, only calling him a couple of times all this time, and he remembers he's his father now? How convenient is that? How can he be such a jerk to remember, only when it suits him, that clause in Jason's custody sentence?

"Oh, really? That long?"

He chuckles at my answer, and I don't know how to take that reaction, so I do the same, unsure if we're already having an amicable conversation.

Oh, no. I'm pretty sure this won't be a sweet debate about our son's life.

It's ridiculous. I haven't heard his voice since last August. I removed him from my friends on Instagram after our divorce. I know nothing about his recent life, and now, he's calling me on the phone like everything's cool, as if nothing has happened between us, like he hasn't been avoiding our boy like the plague for all these months.

And there's more. The Husband Hunter must have given birth to his new child by now, I assume. Not long after he let his family down and abandoned us, I found out his new girlfriend was already pregnant.

"How's Alicia?" I ask him with no subtlety. "Is she happy with you? What about your… kid?"

"Do you actually care?" He answers back in a snarky tone.

"That's harsh. But you're right, John. Not really," I reply, unable to avoid a small smile to appear in the corners of my lips knowing I pissed him off a bit. "You called me first, so what is it?"

"So, listen... I called to see if..." he hesitates. Is he nervous now? "Come on, Sam. You know. I was hoping he'd come with me next month."

I take a long breath, and I'm not sure what the teacher that's next to me is going to think when she hears me. I don't think I care, either.

I don't fucking care at all.

"Oh, but it's not the best timing for him, John. He really can't leave right now. Your son is just in the middle of Spring soccer season. He has school, he has friends. You'd break his heart."

He clears his throat.

"Well, yes... but we have this clause, you know? He's supposed to stay with me for fifteen days. And that happens every six months, so... It's what the judge said," he says, trying to sound firm.

But he's never been really firm with me. He was always soft.

All of a sudden, my concentration is interrupted by Jason colliding on a rival and stealing the soccer ball from him. The ball leaves his feet in a jiff, landing on a teammate's path, and like a graceful gazelle, he begins a run through the whole length of the field with so much speed that his body looks like he's barely touching the ground.

It makes my heart race. My boy. The way he moves, the way he plays, the way his face is so serious when he's focused... I can't stop myself from getting goosebumps from how adorable he looks in his blue soccer shirt and shorts.

"Yes!" I can't help but shout. "Yes, baby! Run!"

John shuts his mouth for a second, waiting for me to talk again.

"That's what he said, yeah," I answer. "But you're his father, and you should know better, shouldn't you?"

"Shit, Samantha, you know this is the best for-"

Then, a loud 'thud' coming from the soccer field makes me cut him off. A bigger boy has just rushed towards my son and flung himself violently onto his path. Jason's body flies as if he's a piece of paper, making him fall down on the grass.

"Ref!!" I scream, my lungs almost blowing out.

The people's shocked murmur starts as I stand up with my hand making a quick, aggressive gesture.

"Oh my God," says Tanya.

"Where are your fucking eyes?! That's a foul! Jason, are you okay?! That boy's an animal! Send him out, ref!"

The referee whistles, but the inept prick doesn't even give the aggressor a yellow card, and now I'm yelling so hard I feel the veins of my neck and throat bursting. My son's face shows his pain as he remains on the ground, trying to get up in a bubbly way.

I see how, just as shocked, the English teacher looks at me for a second. Then she follows my gaze. Her eyes fall on my son, who's already standing, brushing off his pants.

"Sam, I'm talking with you," says the manly voice coming from the other side of the call.

"One second, John. Your son still has a parent that cares for him," I answer with no consideration whatsoever. "Did you see that?" I ask Tanya, not really expecting an answer.

"It looked painful," she replies.

I nod, still unable to look away from my son's figure on the field, a bit smaller and thinner compared to the other players. I can breathe when he starts running again, showing no injuries, and my body relaxes for a moment. My hands clap, proudly, as hard as they can, while my voice explodes once again in a joyful cheer. "That's it, Jason! Don't let them scare you! Run, run!"

My fourteen-year-old gives me a shy smile in return. I can tell he's pleased at hearing me cheering him, but at the same time, the other players' parents have started looking in our direction too, probably wondering why this crazy mom is so loud when everybody else is quiet.

"She always has to be that extra, you know?" I can hear John muttering under his breath, talking to his new girl on the other side of the line. "So, I was just saying..."

"That clause, yeah," I say in a sharp, commanding tone. "You're trying to take Jason away from me for two weeks. Is that it?"

A long silence follows.

"Look, I just wanted to ask nicely."

I honestly think it would be better if he just forgot about his son.

"Ask me what, John?" My tone shows my anger. Mrs. Williams seems to notice this time, but my voice doesn't waver. "You don't have to ask anything. It's a court sentence. But make no mistake: if you think that everything you're doing to your son won't come back to haunt you just because you're going to play the role of a good father for two weeks, you're very wrong. Your son is no fool, John. He's fourteen already, and he's aware of what happens around him."

"Sam, look. I know you're still mad at me," he says. "But this isn't fair. This isn't fair for our son. Nor for me! He needs a father too, you know? If he has that Spring soccer thing and school, he can continue with that as soon as he's back. It'll be just a couple of weeks, for fuck's sake!"

I breathe out.

He needs a father, he says.

Now?

"Do whatever the fuck you want, John, as you always do. If taking him with you twice a year makes you feel like you're a better father," I continue, giving a quick gaze to Tanya, who seems now more interested in our conversation than in the soccer match even if she isn't looking at me, "then do it, but don't play with his heart. You lost your family, and he blames you for that as much as I do. If he's that naïve and still has some faith in you, he'll think for a moment you've come back to us somehow. And you'll never come back to us. You should make that clear to him too, okay?"

"I think I've called at a bad time. I'll talk to him later, alright?" he replies, sounding annoyed now. "Have a good day, Samantha."

"Hey," I say before he hangs up, "if you take him with you and your secretary, make sure you give my boy back to me before February 14th."

"And why is that?" He sounds surprised.

I laugh.

"Are you actually asking me that? After all these years? Some things never change, huh? I pity that poor secretary of yours," I respond with a bit of sass. "It's Valentine's Day, John. You know I don't spend Valentine's Day by myself."

Now it's him the one laughing.

"You should get a boyfriend, Sam."

He hangs up before I can reply, but a wide, sincere smile has formed on my lips after hearing him say those words.

"If you only knew," I mumble, putting my phone away. "If you only knew."

"What if I refuse? Can we turn around if I refuse?" Jason asks. "It should be my decision, Mom. Can't I just say I don't want to go?"

There's some traffic, but we're moving at a decent speed. The highway stretches all over the horizon as we get closer to the exit that leads us to John's new apartment downtown.

"Baby, you know we can't refuse," I respond, glancing at him for a moment while I hold his hand over his lap. "But it'll be your full decision once you turn eighteen."

Jason's body relaxes at the touch of my warm hand, my fingers tracing invisible patterns on his skin. His eyes, though, focused on the landscape outside, give him an air of sadness and dejection. Of defeat.

I still can't believe the idiot I spent sixteen years of my life with made me bring my son to this city again. I didn't want to come, Jason didn't want to come, and I'm pretty certain the young woman who lives with John doesn't want us to come either. But here we are, getting closer and closer to our destination, and my sister's words over the phone help me remember why I'm making us suffer this much by bringing him here.

If the custody and visitation sentence clearly states that the father has the right to have the child during certain periods, then technically, John can insist on that agreement being followed, even if it means the child will have to miss school or soccer, she explained. Especially if there's no agreement between the two of you. You can't just refuse to follow what a judge ordered, Sam.

Ever since the divorce, I haven't been able to afford legal counsel, so she acts as my practical lawyer occasionally. It sounds fair to me given that I've been to her more of a marriage counselor than an older sister for the last two years.

"I just don't know how this whole thing is going to turn out, Mom. It's going to be so weird," his voice is low.

I need to be strong for him, but he has the right to be angry as much as me.

He has been this nervous and upset about going back to his father for a couple of days, and I strongly believe everyone could relate to him. He hasn't seen John in almost half a year, and his absence has become a whole new routine for both of us.

But I don't want to be one of those mothers who turn their children against their father. Or to put it in another way, what I mean is I don't want to look like one to my son, even though it's sort of the truth. John deserves to be kicked out of our lives, but he's his father, and there's a custody sentence. Jason will have to deal with him until he's an adult, at least.

So, since I know it will be the best for my boy's bond with me, I try my best to look impartial, especially taking into consideration my ex-husband is already very good at messing up their relationship all by himself.

"Come on, sweetie. We talked about this already. You know this isn't easy for me either, right?" I remind him, taking my gaze off the road and giving him a tender smile.

His blue eyes find me again. My fingers tighten their hold on his hand, and his gaze drifts down, from my chest to my legs, to the steering wheel, and then back to my eyes again. He takes a deep breath before speaking.

"Yeah, right, Mom. But I… I just... You know I feel bad when I talk with him. I can't even imagine staying with him for two weeks."

"I know," is all I can say now.

Jason turns his body around, his elbow falling on the armrest in the door as his face travels back to the view of the outside world through his window.

I bring his hand up and give it a little kiss. I hold it for a bit, kissing him again, before lowering my lips to his knuckles.

I'm trying to keep the atmosphere light and positive for my son. It's been hard enough for me to accept that I have no way of keeping Jason's sweet, adorable face by my side these days, but for some reason, it's much easier to be brave in front of my boy and let him know that he shouldn't be afraid. That, even if we're going to be separated for fourteen days, I'll be calling him every time I get the chance, and everything will be fine.

I guess this is going to be a big test for our relationship. And for his love for his mother.

"Baby," I call out for his attention, "look at me. Please, look at your mother."

Slowly, he turns his head, facing me.

He's so handsome.

I give him the umpteenth reassuring smile I've given him over the last few days.

"I'm going to miss you."

The sadness in his eyes doesn't vanish, and neither does mine.

"Me too, Mom."

He looks a bit like John in a way, but my son's features are much more refined and tender, like mine. After hours driving, my eyes can't help but check out his whole body as he rests his head back and stares through his window, not saying another word until I finally remember something.

I have to make him want to be with me after we part. He doesn't need any more sad vibes. The moment his father and his new family are in front of his eyes, I need to know I'll always be on the back of my son's head. I want my Jason to remember, after two weeks of whatever my ex has planned, I'm the one he belongs with, and above all, the one he wants to be with.

"What are you going to miss the most?" I ask, offering a more sincere smile.

His eyes grow larger for a moment and he grins back, relaxing a bit and breathing deeper than before.

"Really? Is my mother trying to get a compliment?"

"What if I am?"

He shrugs his shoulders, still smiling. "That's fine, I guess. I'm getting used to that side of you."

"Of course you are. And I love your compliments," I bite my lips. He glows, giving sharp glances at my boobs before continuing.

"I'll miss... your cooking."

For a couple of seconds, I don't know if he's serious or not. "Are you serious? That's a lame thing to say. Just my food?"

The son of a bitch – me – laughs his ass off. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. You know what I meant."

"I guess," I mumble with a sigh.

"And... Your company. The way you try so hard to keep me from getting bored," he smiles and pauses before going on, "I'll miss... the way you say good morning to me."

I know what that actually means.

"Good start," I answer. "What else?"

"The way you hold me tight," he replies.

"Keep going," I tell him with my voice turning sensual.

"The way your hands..." He trails off and swallows as he notices me touching his hand again, rubbing my palm against it while my gaze returns to the road. "Your hands..." He blushes. "Mom, you... you know what I'm going to miss about you."

"Tell me anyway, sweetie. Tell me. Make me feel special for these last ten minutes we have together," I say with my stare at the road now.

I feel his eyes on me. They drift all around my body as my hand continues caressing his skin. His hand. His arm. The touch is sensual. Slow, deliberate.

I want to feel those little butterflies inside me one more time before we arrive.

"Your kisses, Mom."

"My kisses? Go on."

"The way your mouth tastes like... like your rinse and toothpaste. Or just like your mouth. Or something you ate... Ugh, that sounds kind of gross, doesn't it? Sorry," he blushes harder.

"It doesn't sound gross to me," I reply, giggling and giving him another peck on the hand. I caress my lips against it, moving my fingers slowly towards his forearm now.

"I... I like it when you kiss me. When your tongue... when it's in my mouth. The way your tongue feels when you lick my neck," he says in a low voice. "When we sleep, the way you snuggle up next to me. I... I like how soft you are, Mom. I love the smell of your hair on your pillows. The way your perfume lingers all over the house, even if you're not at home, the way it reminds me of you... and I..." He hesitates, not knowing what else to say.

"Jesus Christ, baby," I murmur under my breath.

This is just what I needed to hear. This is what I want him to remember when he's with John: the way we can talk about stuff like this. I have to bite my lip, staring at him like the horny bitch that I am. I know he's nervous now, but it's impossible for me to look away from him.

"You're being a little charmer again, aren't you? That's what you are. My hopeless romantic. You have me melting," I reply as my hand starts moving upwards on his biceps. "You make it sound like I'm a good mother."

His lips curve upward.

"You are a great mother. The best mother. You know that. You just have your own way of... taking care of me."

"That sounds kind of cheesy," I chuckle.

"Maybe," he admits, his body posture relaxing now that he feels my hand massaging his upper arm. "But it's true."

"Seems like you're doing better after our small talk," he nods at my words, and I take the lead. "Alright. I'll miss… The way you hug me when you see me waiting for you after school. Or after practice. I love to hold you tight, to feel your heartbeat. To kiss your soft, full, wet lips, sweetie. To hold you in my arms and kiss your ear while my fingers trace your back."

I knead his arm, just the way I know he likes it, and the look in his eyes gets me in the mood. I can't stop myself now, my voice so seductive I'm sure I've gotten to my boy, "I'll miss those moments we spend alone, watching How I Met Your Mother on the couch, or just what's on TV, with my head on your shoulder and my fingers playing with your hair while we cuddle. Your hands, sweetie... They make me shiver whenever you touch me. Your body. Your chest and… Your six-pack. How hot you get when I rub you under your clothes. Or the way your mouth breathes hard into my neck. Your fingers... when they travel down my body... my stomach and..." I hesitate now. My breath gets heavy when my gaze wanders to his lap, to his growing bulge, but I don't want to sound dirty. "And... God... your eyes. Your sweet, loving eyes when you look at me..."

My hand keeps massaging his muscles and his arms, moving from his triceps to his biceps, back to his shoulders, and his palm again, only to go back and forth to his arms. It's all done in slow, deliberate moves, and I know my words are turning him on because, every time my eyes go to his face, his breathing gets heavier and more and more uneven.

Then, his gaze gives me a hint of what to say next.

"And I'll miss the way you look at these all the time," I whisper, my eyes drifting down to my tits for a second and then back to his face, seeing a huge blush appearing in his cheeks.

He can't stop himself from smiling in that nervous way that gets me even hotter for him. "Well, they're hard to miss."

"They sure are."

"I'll miss when you..." Jason begins to say. "When you do it. When you... When you take my penis and you make me..."

Unable to continue with that train of thought, the red in his cheeks seems to spread even more through his body, his eyes fixating on my blouse, on the loose first button of my cleavage.

"Cum," I say.

"Yeah."

His answer is simple. Just a word. But the way he says it makes me feel loved and desired like nobody ever loved and desired me.

"But as a mother, you shouldn't say that word," he says with a smile, looking back outside the car again.

"Why not?"

"Because you're educating me, as you said."

I can't help but grin at his cute comment.

We're approaching his dad's apartment building now. It's not far. Maybe we're less than five minutes away from there, but now, after those last words he said, I know we're going to be late.

I turn the car right, but Jason knows this exit doesn't lead to his father's new house.

"What are you doing?" He asks, surprised.

"Educating you," I respond, making the engine roar the moment we leave the highway. "I'm sorry. We're gonna be a little bit late."

He blinks. "What about Dad? I don't want him to-"

"You let me handle your father."

His eyes follow my every movement as I pull up near the entrance of a convenience store. I park the car outside and take off my seatbelt. His confused expression doesn't seem to know what I'm planning on doing, even if I know he's clever enough to know exactly what's happening before him.

"Give me your best sick-looking face, Jason," I instruct, opening the door on my side.

"What? Why? Mom?"

"You heard me. Come with me."

And just like that, we step out of the car and head towards the shop's door.

Jason looks like he's in a daze as he walks by my side, looking all nervous, not really understanding why I pulled off the highway when he was about to see his father for the first time in so many months. My body quivers at the thought of what we're about to do together, and I don't even look at him when I stop in front of the cashier.

The girl attending the counter must be in her late teens, and she's reading something on her phone like she doesn't give a fuck about anything.

"Lady, please," I tell her in an exasperated, nervous tone. The girl glances up briefly to look at us, and my arm envelops my son's back, my hand resting on his waist, just below his chest. "This is my son, Jason. He's not feeling well, and… Sweet Jesus, I'm afraid he'll throw up anytime. Please, is there any bathroom we can use? We'd really appreciate it if you let us use it."

My son blinks in confusion and embarrassment as the cashier gives him a funny look before her attention returns to her phone, and without any more words, she points a finger in the direction of the restroom, handing the key to my son, who walks towards it as fast as he can, not even daring to look at me.

I'm not sure if he's the best actor in the universe or, on the contrary, just an average teenager embarrassed by his mother.

"Thank you," I tell the girl. "You don't know how much you've helped us. He'll be really quick."

She mumbles a quick, "Sure."

"Jason! Wait, wait," I shout when my son is already halfway across the convenience store. "I'll help you, baby."

Without hesitation, I turn around, making my way behind Jason.

The lights inside the store's bathroom flicker to life, illuminating a very narrow space. It smells of ammonia, bleach, and something filthy I can't quite describe. Jason is in front of the small mirror, now fully grasping why his mother just asked him to come inside the convenience store.

He's the one locking the door today.

"I know I gave you a good farewell before lunch, but it doesn't mean I won't miss you as hell for the next fourteen days, baby," I tell him as my arms lock around his neck. He blushes at my words but can't avoid a small smile that lights up his face.

"You're crazy, Mom," he whispers.

His eyes focus on my body. The top button of my blouse is still unbuttoned, and he doesn't dare look away, his body gets all tense against mine, and I love how his bulge is fighting against my leg, eager for me. Ready for me.

He's not only a sweet boy now. Perhaps he never was just a sweet boy, but today I'm sure my son is also an active, curious fourteen-year-old with his hormones rushing through his system. And he has a hot, insane woman willing to do everything to make him feel good, to give him all the attention he deserves, to take him as a lover and best friend. Someone to share everything he loves and cares for.

And it's the same woman who gives him food and a roof over his head. Who wouldn't want that kind of deal?

His hands find my breasts as I hold him against me, my lips touching his forehead for a few seconds before they descend to his temple, then his cheek.

He tries to reach my mouth, but I turn around to plant a kiss on the other side of his face before his lips can come closer to mine, my fingers already on his stomach, teasing him as my lips open. My tongue is in love with his face's skin, and travels all over his jaw and the side of his neck, kissing, licking, and sucking while I see him watching me through the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

"Mom," he moans in my ear. It sounds so damn good it makes my whole body melt in delight.

He's holding my tits more firmly.

"Shhhh..." I whisper in his ear. "Your father's waiting. And Mom needs to help you with your sick stomach before we leave, right?"

The door makes a sound when Jason slightly bats it with his foot, moving backward as I kiss the back of his ears. I don't find a single drop of will to stop when his body starts moving against me in an erratic, uncontrollable way.

It doesn't take long before I pull down his pants, exposing the nice erection his cock makes on his boxers, with the wet spot his pre-cum has caused in the material.

I push his shorts down too, desperate, and the little guy stands to greet me, red and swollen.

He turns his head and I find his mouth, finally connecting, our lips joining in a sweet, wet dance I never get tired of. My hands roam through his chest and my hips grind against his crotch as we kiss, our tongues dancing in front of the mirror, making my heart jump.

I'm a woman possessed, and my fist is all around him now.

"Damn, Jason," I moan between his lips, his fingers roaming around the cleavage of my blouse, our mouths meeting. "What is this?" I whisper, looking down, as if his dick's some kind of miracle I've discovered for the first time. "Look at your beautiful thing," I compliment, the fingers of my other hand traveling on his stomach. "And your abs... Jesus, you look so sexy, baby. Oh, shit, I'll be going to jail for sure."

My fist jerks him off with the sweetest, gentlest movements. Meanwhile, the other hand travels from his belly button to his chest as he just stands there, unable to stop himself from freaking out a little bit.

"Oh, fuck, Mom. Don't say that."

"My boy," I ignore his preoccupation. "Look at this. How could any woman resist something this hard? Something this beautiful, young, and delicious? This cock I gave birth to," I moan into his ear, rubbing it harder, tighter, feeling every single detail on it, every inch, every vein.

He doesn't respond, but the way his fingers squeeze my breasts lets me know he's pleased.

I see my long-nailed fingers move on his shaft, the tip of his cock looking so hard and beautiful I can barely help myself and kiss him again. I open my eyes again to see my son's reflection in the mirror next to us. Jason does the same thing and takes in the image of my fingers wrapping around his cock, pumping his teenage manhood tight and tenderly.

He moans in response and throws his head back, his hands trying to grab at the edges of the sink behind him, and he moans the very moment he finally feels my warm lips on his ear.

Once again, I do all the little things I know he loves, with the pace and grip I know he loves, and my thumb travels from the base of his penis to its tip, teasing his head.

He jumps, giving another smack to the door behind me.

"Look at that sensitive cock," I whisper again.

My lovely son caresses the flesh of my boobs between his fingers. I start to moan intensely, feeling his grope, squeezing harder, as if he was trying to hold something more, more of me, as much as he can get from his mom.

With my free hand, I open my jeans' button and unzip them, just to grab his forearm and shove his fist inside my panties, leaving only his wrist visible.

His fingers already know what to do, and they immediately begin to feel around for my clit and wet hole, pulling a few pubes his way inside.

I start moaning harder now.

I know we can get caught at any time.

But it makes me want it even more.

All the anxiety caused by the possibility of people finding out and making my life turn to shit is gone when my fingers sense the warm pre-cum oozing from him and I feel our breaths mingling with each other's, while I tell myself I never thought he'd get so good with his fingers in just a month.

It's hard to believe how the sound of wet friction is now so loud that I honestly don't know if the cashier outside can hear us from where she is.

I close my eyes to focus on his touch, on my hands, my fingers, the feel of his hard-on in my palms.

I know we're so close now. We both look like we're so close.

And he tries to stop me from making him ejaculate, his hand suddenly holding my arm. He doesn't want to cum now. I understand him, I know how he wants us both to come at the same time, but I'm going so fucking fast he's unable to control it, and his hands tighten their grip around my wrist, holding me as hard as he can without hurting me.

But something makes him release me from his grip.

"Shit," he says, bowing to reach something in his pocket. His hand brings out his cell phone as a sound rings loudly. "It's Dad."

"Pick it up," I command, my voice as firm as I can.

I slow the movements of my hand, and he looks at me in shock. "What?"

"I said, pick it up," I say again, looking at him with serious, authoritarian eyes.

"Mom," Jason protests, the cell phone ringing loudly in his hand. "Jeez. Okay. But… Are you gonna do something weird? Like last time we picked up the phone when we were in my bedroom?" he asks in a trembling, worried tone.

"It didn't turn out bad for us, right?" I say, kneeling down in front of him, taking my time, kissing his penis as he tries to keep the phone as far as possible from me. "Trust your mom. Pick up."

I take him deep inside my mouth, the salty taste of his transparent juices immediately entering my tongue and mouth.

"Oh my God. Okay," he trembles, making the phone's ringing stop, his right hand holding it up. "H-hi... Dad?"

The voice on the other side sounds upset. "Jason? Jason, what's going on? I've been waiting here for fifteen minutes."

I take his penis outside, slowly, just a second, teasing my boy as he looks at me with a gaze that pleads for my forgiveness. "Traffic," I articulate, aiming the tip of his penis to my mouth but stopping it just as my lips barely brush the side of his penis. "Tell him there was an accident on the highway," I explain in a very low voice.

"Traffic, Dad," Jason repeats. "There was a, uhm, an accident," he tells him, nervous, uneasy, but turned on all the same.

His glans go all the way in when I fully open my mouth, until my lips touch the skin at its base and his pubic hairs tickle my nose. My hands hold him close, just like he needs, thight on his hip, while the other one squeezes the skin around the base of his cock and balls.

My fourteen-year-old is so fucking hard that his erection pushes his shaft upwards, touching my palate, his tip rubbing against the upper part of my mouth as I feel it throbbing.

"Did you say 'accident'?" his dad says. "Jason, is your mother with you?"

Jason's eyes close, trying not to moan or breathe heavily, and I can feel my own getting blurry.

"Y-yeah. She's driving."

"Alright," his dad answers, "I'm gonna have to wait for you guys. There's something I want to show you when you arrive, okay? See you later. Be safe."

"Yeah, see you later."

He hangs up, and as soon as his fingers lower the phone, he drops it on the floor, like he doesn't care about it at all.

I lick him so fast his body is starting to jerk involuntarily. "Holy shit," he says, "oh, holy shit."

He tries to say something else, but he can't even speak anymore. My fingers squeeze his shaft one last time, feeling how his cockhead pulses against my tongue.

His semen feels hot, abundant, and delicious. It's a little acid this time, though, making me remember what we had for lunch before we started the trip.

The shaking legs I'm holding give another bonk to the door as his cum coats my mouth with a sticky flavor I'm sad I won't taste again for the next couple of weeks. I suck him and suck him, making my way around his head when he tries to muffle his moans once again.

I look up at him.

Jason's face is redder than ever. His mouth is agape, his hands gripping the sides of my shoulders. His eyes look down at me too, but his eyelids are almost closed tight as he breathes out slowly.

I close my mouth. My lips are sticky now, coated with his fluids, and the seed is pretty thick, probably because it's been getting consistent over the last four or five hours that my son hasn't been able to release. Still, it goes down smoothly as it mixes with the saliva, and then it's all gone.

I kiss his shaft, as I always do, just because I love seeing him shrinking again. I make my way up his torso, and he hugs me, giving me the best kiss I've gotten from him today, so warm and intense I think he's already recovered from his orgasm.

He grabs my waistband and lowers my jeans all the way, leaving me no time to think. His bold hands cup my ass, his knees fall onto the floor, and the young man I love the most rips my underwear off, spreads my legs, and his face caresses my folds with his tentative mouth.

"I'm… I'm going to miss this too, Mom," he says, trying to sound manly in a kind of shy voice, which makes it even more adorable and hot. He parts them with his fingers, revealing my most sensitive part, my clit throbbing like crazy as soon as my son's tongue touches it, circling it in the best way he can while one of his fingers slips into my sex, curling around in all directions.

His free hand roams around my butt, feeling it up, probably because he knows it turns me on so much to get my asscheeks squeezed when I'm close to orgasm, making me shudder in pleasure when he takes a handful of it and pulls my hips even harder against his face.

"Holy fuck, Jason."

I watch him eating me out in front of the sink of this fucking bathroom, the fluorescent lights reflecting in the mirror. I close my eyes and my hands grab his hair, sensing the soft surface of his mouth, his lips, and his fingers exploring my sex like no other man ever could, because Jason's the most perfect boy I've ever known in my life.

My head feels light.

My body relaxes.

I feel the warm tingling sensation inside me that spreads all around, and my mind goes blank the exact moment the wave of pleasure fills my every nerve ending, every inch of skin on my body, before my brain can register anything.

Then, it happens. And I tell myself it shouldn't be possible it always gets better. Every fucking orgasm he gives me is way better than the last one.

I feel the rush, the wave, and the trembling of my thighs as they struggle to remain straight, before his arms hold me still. He looks up to see me, but my body's convulsing and my legs shake uncontrollably, and then his hands tighten their support around me and almost pull me to the floor while I cum on top of my son.

To make it worse, as always, the cashier's voice sounds pretty loud on the other side of the door. "You guys fine?" her knocking sounds following soon after.

She knows we're sucking our brains out. She knows for sure. She's heard us. I'm sure.

But this time we don't care, like we're ready for the girl to just open the door and catch me doing the worst thing a mother could do to her son.

"We're almost done," I reply as loud as I can while trying to keep myself from moaning even harder as the last few drops of pleasure fall out from my pussy and my boy's mouth sucks them out. "My son is still trying to vomit."

"You've been there like half an hour, ma'am," the girl says, annoyed.

Jason chuckles as I push his head back. My hips can't help but grind a bit more on his mouth before I can control myself, but the girl outside doesn't stop complaining.

"I can't have the restroom taken all the time," she continues. "You have two more minutes."

"Alright, I know," I tell the girl. "Come on, Jason, you better try to get your stomach under control."

After a few seconds, we both hear, relieved, the young woman's footsteps fading as she leaves the door's side.

He takes the last drops from my clit, sort of smiling, and I look at his mouth on me like it's heaven. We remain like that for a tiny while, his tongue still moving around my clit until my whole body goes limp. And then, not too conscious of how, when I open my eyes, the boy has already pulled my pants and underwear up my legs.

We look into each other's eyes, both of us trying to catch our breath after all that effort we put into making each other come, and we start giggling at our silly faces and red cheeks. I try to zip and button my jeans while Jason pulls his boxers up and adjusts his pants as fast as he can.

Exhausted, he puts his head over my chest, his arms wrapping my waist, and I do the same to him, caressing the back of his neck with my hands.

"That's what I call a good farewell," I tell him with my best smile.

His face looks fresh, his eyes shine, and his expression looks happier than ever as if nothing in this world could bring him down after what we've just done.

I wish so hard he didn't have to go.

"Is this what I get for two weeks at Dad's place?"

"Nope," I chuckle. "Bad boy, this is what you get for being the sweet young man you are. And you'll get much more when you come back to me," I leave another gentle peck on his lips. "Much, much more."

Chapter 17: The Dividing Threshold

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The girl's presence at John's new apartment door doesn't surprise me at all when, on January 31st, a little too late in the afternoon, Jason and I come out of the elevator with a big suitcase, his school bag, and a backpack filled with his new console and a couple of books I told him to bring.

She's just there, taking small steps, swaying from one leg to the other, with a little human being in her arms, just waiting for us.

"Come on, baby," I tell Jason, who walks silently right next to me.

It ain't the first time I see this twenty-seven-year-old woman. In fact, I remember with extreme precision the day John introduced her to me as his employee. Even that day, with my guard down, her tight body didn't escape my notice. The perfectly round shape and volume of her behind, her business outfit revealing just the right amount of skin, and her innocent look made my sixth sense kick in immediately.

Today I know I was always right.

Although we've shared the same space a couple of times, and I once even had a fairly engaging conversation with her at one of those company picnic family days, this is indeed the first time I'm face to face with the result of John's mistake.

The small, bald baby girl must be about three months old tops. The new mom in front of me moves her around in her arms, and a soft cry echoes in the hallway of the fancy apartment block.

The young woman is gorgeous in a way only a new mother can look, in her comfy clothes, with her dark hair falling over her sun-kissed shoulders, her tiny little thing in her hold, and an obvious touch of anxiety in her grin when I stare at both with my unyielding gaze.

Poor thing. I see a fear in those brown eyes I haven't seen for a while.

Does she still see me as the horrible, selfish woman John surely told her about when they flirted in his office? Does she remember her boss' ex-wife's eyes and recognize the same look she got from me when I thought he was playing me around? Does she even recall how, after two glasses of wine and some inoffensive teasing between them at that picnic, I smiled at her like we could become friends? Does she feel remorse for breaking my family?

Of course, she does.

She shouldn't, though. Our family was already on track to collapse just before John hired her four years ago.

Unlike me, Alicia is a sweet, polite person; the kind of girl who'd never say anything to make anyone in the room feel uncomfortable. That probably hasn't changed. I used to call her the Husband Hunter when I confirmed my suspicions, but even then I knew she never had bad intentions. If anything, she was just stupid enough to fall in love with my husband genuinely.

But I'm reconsidering that nickname. Maybe I should be calling her my savior instead. After all, she's the real trigger to everything that's happened. If it weren't for her, I guess John would probably still be the husband who barely speaks to me. A good provider, for sure, but an absent partner and parent. And now that I'm observing him right next to his girlfriend after so much time, that new nickname feels again like a better fit.

My forty-five-year-old ex-husband looks a little bigger in his belly than how I remembered him. Those broader gym-crafted arms make quite a contrast to the lanky frame that was always typical of him. His hair, longer than it was a year ago, frames his forehead differently, his beard has grown thicker, and yet, what strikes me the most is the extra baggage his eyes seem to carry today.

Did he always look so old? I know I don't look that old.

He's wearing an ugly green shirt, a pair of khaki pants, and slippers. The fact that he didn't even try to look good considering I was coming makes my skin crawl in irritation, but I do my best to hold my facial expression when Jason's dad sees us both standing next to the elevator.

"Hey, Jasey!" The father greets his son, not even daring to approach for a hug, acting like a stranger to the teenager.

It makes me cringe a bit, his body language.

"That's a big bag!" says John.

"Hi, Dad."

"Sam," he smiles. "It's good to see you."

Yeah, so good.

Let's pretend this is all okay. Let's just accept he has ignored his son for months, and pretend he didn't cheat on me for over a year with this young woman. That he didn't have a kid with her.

"Hello, John."

Jason, my baby, who I'm holding by his shoulder with his suitcase by his left side, is now stuck to the ground beside me. Alicia pulls the little girl closer to her body, not moving a single step, waiting to see what's about to happen.

Am I the one causing this tension?

I don't regret being here, though. I could have bought a flight ticket for my son and sent the boy to his father's new house all by himself, but that wouldn't be me. He's a kid! What kind of parent would just let her teenage son travel alone? What kind of mother wouldn't drive five hours to spend as much time with her boy before he's taken away for two weeks?

And why? For what? So I wouldn't have to see this cheater and his new girl again? I'm a proud woman. And even though this new mom doesn't like to look me in the eyes, I know my presence here makes my position very clear: Jason already has a mother. A real, loving, caring, and responsible one.His real mom. The woman who gave birth to him.

"You want to come inside, Samantha? I... I made dinner. For you. For both of you, I mean."

Alicia sounds shy, unsure, and apparently afraid to talk to me.

"No, thanks. I'm fine, Alicia," I reply politely despite her absurd offer.

She sighs with relief.

"Damn, I almost forgot," John blurts out, and rushes back inside his new apartment like a chicken running away from a wolf. "Just... Gonna get something for you, son!"

We all wait until John comes back to the hallway. I use those fifteen seconds to take a few deep breaths to keep my mind relaxed and not ruin my boy's first minutes with his father. I want my son to be happy, and calm, even if my insides are screaming to take my boy back home and tell him to forget about his dad for the rest of his life.

"Here," my ex-husband comes back with a white box in his hands.

Jason walks in front of me, taking it from his hands and staring at its shape before looking at his dad with a puzzled face. "What is it?"

He possibly knows what it is already.

"Open it," says John.

"You're gonna like it, Jasey," Alicia tells my son, now talking to him as his new stepmother.

The realization is like a kick to my stomach.

"A new phone? Oh, shit," says the teenager, his eyes going wide.

"Language…" I mumble, both father and son ignoring me.

"It's an iPhone!"

"Yeah, it's the newest one!" John beams. "Since you lost your phone and... You know, we've been texting so rarely over the last few weeks," he says with no shame at all. As if that was the real reason for his absence. "I figured this would help us catch up more easily."

Alicia's face proves she knows exactly what's happening in my head, but to me, Jason's long, worried stare looking for approval makes it even more obvious that he doesn't really know what to say.

"Dad, uh," Jason stutters, looking at his dad now. "Thank you. Thank you, really," he tries to smile. "But this is a bit much. You didn't need to... and, you know, Mom actually bought me a new phone a couple of weeks ago, so... I'm fine, really," he insists, closing the box, giving it back to his father, whose smirk drops immediately.

I fucking need to kiss Jason so badly right now.

"That's nice of you, John. You could've asked me before, though," I tell my ex-husband in a cold tone.

"What? You can't be serious, Sam. That phone you gave him is... No offense, but it's an old flip phone! That's the most primitive thing I've ever seen."

"It's not old. It ain't even a secondhand thing. And, seriously, what's wrong with it? That phone works fine. Its main aim is to call and be called. He lost the one he had, and we made a deal: if he kept his grades up, and kept saving money from his allowance, he'd be able to get himself a new one."

"But his father just bought a new one for him. A good phone," John counterattacks.

Despite his calmer tone, you can cut the tension in the air with a knife right now. Alicia, holding her baby in her arms, seems like she wants to say something but, of course, doesn't dare open her mouth. She'd rather not be here, for sure.

"Mom, can we just-"

"It's fine, baby," I interrupt. "You can keep it. It's your father's present."

I don't want to make the situation any weirder than it already is, knowing how uneasy Jason must be feeling now, but it's impossible for me not to remain watchful and play the game this man is forcing me to.

I probably shouldn't allow this man to buy his son new toys to win his love. That's not fair, but again, making a scene out of this wouldn't be a wise move on my part, either. I know my son. Jason would hate it if I got angry and made this awkward for John or his new family. At least, I can sort of control how things go, even if it's at the cost of some of my dignity.

"Thank you, Sam," says John, just like when we were married and I let him off the hook for some dumb shit he had done.

"Yeah, thanks, Mom! Thanks, Dad!"

Jason looks me in the eye, with his honest smile, trying to ease things up for everyone, and lets out a deep, almost silent sigh. I bet my boy's trying to understand what's going through my head, as he clearly didn't expect me to be so cool about this. That's why I nod at him, hoping to reassure my baby I'm not going to start a fight in front of him and his father's girlfriend.

"This is great."

"Ali, why don't you take little Michelle inside while we finish this, alright?" John suggests.

"Sure," she heads to the apartment's door with the baby, dragging her shoes across the carpet. "Bye, Samantha."

I'm not sure if it's just me, but I could swear Alicia seems pretty relieved about heading back inside the house, and I totally get why. I'd feel the same if I were in her shoes.

"See you."

Now staring at my ex-husband in silence, I try making him more anxious with my long stare. He deserves it after making us come here, not giving a shit about his former family, upsetting his new girlfriend and his son, and leaving me the task to control my fucking anger.

This is the man I was supposed to trust in sickness and in health, and yet he does this to us.

"Let's not make this any harder than it is," he finally says. "You know this was in the custody agreement, right, Samantha? It's just for a couple of weeks. Why do you have to look that serious? He'll have fun."

I turn to the fourteen-year-old, putting my hands on both of his shoulders, finding his neck, and then caressing the back of his hair, almost refusing to let him get inside. His eyes look so much like mine. So innocent. So pure. So eager to do things right. That's why now that my taste buds are used to savoring his mouth and body, I feel painfully unsatisfied when the motherly kiss I plant on his lips lasts no more than a heartbeat.

"If you need anything, you call me. And I mean anything. Any problem. I'll be calling you too, often, okay? Every day, as I said. You know I can come and pick you up if something odd happens," I whisper to my son.

He doesn't respond, but looks at me in silence, pretty much begging me to take him with me.

"He'll be alright, Sam. He can take care of himself, right Jason? You can do whatever you want here. You can spend time with us, with your little sister, too. She's adorable-"

"Half-sister," I react, not even looking at him.

In a way, John's words seem so insignificant and far away when I open my arms wide and hold my baby for the last time. His face buries into my hair, and he hugs me tight, smelling the fragrance in it, taking all the scent he'll be missing over the next fourteen days. I caress the back of his head, scratching lovingly the locks on his nape, closing my eyes and taking in the bittersweet feeling of his body pressed against mine.

He's slipping from my grasp.

So many things could change in a couple of weeks. So, so many things I can't control. Letting him outside of my den, back with his father, could make him develop affection for that young woman and her little daughter, his now stepmom and half-sister. It could make him question our relationship. Maybe even the love between him and his father could start to grow back in a way that would make him decide not to come back home with me, in the worst possible scenario. It could actually make him realize his mother isn't the saint he believes she is; that his mother's got issues and is probably the main reason for his suffering.

Because that's just not true, right?

That can't be true.

"I love you," he takes me back to reality with a whisper.

I caress his back and close my eyes, taking a deep breath and trying my best not to start crying and ruin his day. "I love you more, young man. Go inside," I pat the boy on the back.

Jason nods, picks up his things, and takes them inside the apartment, giving me one last glance before he, the love of my life, abandons me, crossing the threshold that will divide our lives for the next couple of weeks, and enters a new place I hope will never feel like home to him.

The next thing I know, I'm left there, and it's only John and I outside the fancy apartment.

"I know me saying this is going to piss you off, but he needs a father."

"Need?" I chuckle. "Needing means he can't live without something. He sure needs someone who can take care of him and educate him. Is that you?" I ask, almost disgusted. My ex-husband is looking down at the ground. "Okay then. I'll tell you the same thing I've been saying for years: act like a father. Like a present father. You were one not too long ago. At least pretend that you love him."

"You know I love him," he says.

"Then prove it."

"You know I…" he tries to conclude. "I love both of you."

Wow. Fuck, he means it. That makes me laugh even more at him.

All of a sudden, he stares at me with those eyes that don't even try to recognize me. But I do recognize him – he's the selfish fucker I saw many years when I opened my eyes in the morning light.

"You know what I mean," he goes on with his bullshit. "Not in the way I loved you when we got married, but..."

"Just stop that already, please. I know you don't give a fuck about me," I answer, now taking my time to look at my ex-husband up and down. "And that's fine. I accepted that way before you did. But that's your boy inside," I tell him, pointing my index finger at the door of the apartment. What comes next is only a worried mother who cares for her son's self-esteem. "Be affectionate. Show him you care for him. Speak to him, and don't you dare treat him like an inconvenience."

He stares at me for a few seconds and then gives me a simple serious up-and-down head shake.

With no more words, I turn to give him my back, go inside the elevator again, and mournfully make my way out of his apartment block, alone and miserable.

Notes:

Very short chapter (not what you're used to, my spoiled readers), but I feel like it's necessary for it to be this way, to give the scene the weight it deserves and for how the series will continue. I always write what I feel the story needs.

Still busy and tired, but I wanted you all to know that I'm still here and that as soon as I have more time and energy, I'll finish this story. I hope the wait and the absence of spicy scenes don't scare away too many readers, because what's coming up I think is really, really worth it. I'll be responding to messages and posting the next update as soon as I can. I hope it won't take that long this time.

Motherly hugs and kisses to everyone 3

Chapter 18: Lonelier Than Ever

Notes:

Hello everyone, Sams and Jaseys!

There goes another update. This weekend I had some free time, and I used it to finalize this chapter, which I believe will be the last one before the final stretch of this series.

Very maternal kisses in pure Samantha style! (remember, never on the cheek)

Chapter Text

The house feels too quiet.

Empty.

…

No sounds. Just distant waves of laughter from the kids who just got out of school and are now screaming at the playground on the other side of the street, a couple of blocks away from here. With their mothers.

Why is he not here?

He could be asking me to stop working on this shitty spreadsheet and go cook him lunch.

No. That's not true.

Right now, he'd be expecting the bus, then walking home, and I'd be ready with a plate of delicious tacos I'd have made just for him. I'd ask him how was school and we would talk, laugh, and get all cozy in each other's embrace until I told him to get his ass inside his bedroom and start his homework.

But he's out there, far far away. With that man, with his father.

It's been just a few days, yeah. But what happened to the apologetic hugs he'd give me every time I'd put my hands on my hips and yell his name when I got pissed off because of how his things are thrown all around on his room's floor? Where's he slamming the door open into the kitchen when he rushes for breakfast before school? Where's the sound of his feet drumming up and down the stairs? Where's his sweaty, strong musk after he gets home from practice?

Where are his soft, curious lips on my skin? The sweet, tentative hands on my tits while Phoebe's on the other line of the phone, making me gasp, then moaning and asking him to stop, just to be left hanging when he finally runs back to his bedroom after getting bored?

Where's the only family I have left?

How can a woman possibly keep it all together when the center of her universe is living somewhere else for half a month?

By having friends, some would say. And sure, Phoebe seems like the only one around me who actually manages to make me laugh. Her sad, modest life as a full-time mom is almost as pathetic as mine. Almost. She has two other kids. She'll never feel as isolated and decadent as I do.

I don't have any other friends, coworkers, or family around, so that housewife has been my only companion for a couple of these last unbearable afternoons, coming over, or taking me to one of those stupid painting lessons again, which, surprisingly, I don't hate as much as I thought I would in the first place.

Still, not one of my hobbies isn't doing me much good at coping with solitude. My job used to be a distraction barely a few months back, but now it just feels somewhat dull. Emails, accounting reports, online meetings, same old routine. Remote work's newness was nice while it lasted, it gave me some space from the office drama and more time at home with my son, but now, when there's not that much going on, I feel like this is a cage I can't escape.

I mean, this place was already huge for two people. Without him? Jesus, how does one survive alone in a house like this? This used to be a beach house, a vacation retreat, and so it needs a family. Not a sad, single mother who works all day and tries to keep herself busy just to not feel alone.

I'm actually disappointed at myself. If twenty-five-year-old Sam could see me right now, missing someone this much, the little meaning I have left without taking care of a man –cause that's what he is after all, even if he's my son–, she'd think I'm the pathetic woman I thought I'd never become.

Is my life nothing else than this, really? A house to take care of, endless accounting shit, one single friend whose life is as pathetic as mine, and this weird desire to fuck my teenage son's brains out?

My life's turned into a fucking loop these last few months. Like I've been telling myself the same shit every day, expecting a different result. It's like I can't take any action without making my life a lot more complicated.

I guess I've learned the hard way, these last twelve months, that being lonely has nothing to do with my son, and that it's always been there, deep inside of me, even before he was born.

It's so miserable, yeah. I know, and I don't want to hear myself complaining anymore, but please, let these days just go by quickly.

He doesn't even need to be right next to me to make me feel better. Just having him close, at home, not doing anything special, would make this house warmer, fuller, livelier.

It's crazy how addicted one can get to a kid's validation, how desperate I am to be needed.

I hate to admit, though, how relieved I am that his father bought him that stupid phone. We can FaceTime three, four, or even five times a day now, whenever I need to check what he's doing. I call him often, much more than he calls me, if I'm honest, but that's just a normal parent thing to do, isn't it? I'm not just another irritating, bothersome parent, I think.

He's more prone to text me than actually speak to me when we're on the phone, which I get because he's fourteen. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not that old. I didn't grow up with a phone in my hand, but I can relate to kids his age. For now, I keep texting him when I don't feel he's in the vibe for a video call, and we get along, at least for the most part. He sends me lots of pics of himself and the apartment where his dad now lives, even a couple with Alicia's daughter, which makes me sick in the stomach, but I'd never confess that to him. So, I'm taking advantage of the situation just to fill a new hypothetical M folder with some subtle pictures of his mother in the most casual poses, making sure I always keep his interest going.

John and Alicia, the lovely couple, must be oblivious enough to not realize to what extent I've invaded my own son's private space, how I worm out of him how much he misses me, keeping him awake with some very, very dirty messages during his nights.

But if there's one thing that drives me up the wall, it's the overwhelming amount of time he spends with his young stepmother.

Stepmother. Even the word itself leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

How could it not? He looks so okay with everything she does. So nice to him every chance she gets, helping him with homework, and listening to what he has to say. Always fun to be around, for sure. I mean, of course, he'd never use those words, so I am forced to read between the lines to figure it all out.

"I think I'm ordering some pizza. Care to join, Jasey?" I heard her say the other day.

"Sure, count me in!"

"I bet you've never tried some good, Neapolitan style pizza, have you?" She asked again.

"Nope, never," Jason said, making me upset with his lies.

"Of course, you have. You just can't recall, sweetie," I whispered into the phone, almost sounding desperate to not be forgotten. "Remember that place... You know, near the school? Vesuvio Something... they were really good."

"Uhm," my son's face looked puzzled for a couple of seconds, but he couldn't keep looking like a fool. "Right! You're right. Yeah, near the school..."

"Well, that's real Italian pizza, honey," I told him with a little smug smile, watching Alicia walk behind my son on the screen, with a clear intention to disappear. "I'm sure we can find a cool Italian pizza place here at home."

"Sure," he said, looking back at the kitchen, waiting for Alicia to get back.

And that's just one example of how well they vibe together.

My teenage young man seems to be getting along with the baby just fine, too, which is a bit shocking given his initial reaction when he first found out he'd become a half-brother to his father's bastard child. That day, he just cried for a good three hours while we held each other and told me he hated his father.

The little baby looks a bit like Jason; not as beautiful as he was, that's obvious, but with the very same tiny nose he had when he was a toddler. Though her eyes and hair are way darker than my boy's.

Fuck them both.

Mother and daughter, they don't fucking deserve his kindness. I'd be more than fine if they both vanished from my boy's life for good.

And fuck his dad even more!

He couldn't have followed my advice, no. He needs a father, he said, and apparently, the dumb fucker can't take a few days off to spend time with his son. He demands I hand him over for two weeks so that, as I suspected, his twenty-seven-year-old floozy is now the one taking care of him.

At least, Jason doesn't complain too much about his absent father. Nothing, actually. And he's had a couple of fun days, after all.

Last night, for instance, Jason met with some of his old school friends. Theo, Don, Jenny, and some other kids. Even Kyle was there. I made him call me right away to tell me how that went, considering my little guy probably was excited to see all his childhood crew members. They all went there just to meet him, to get him out of his father's house, because they still love him and think about him. That's the type of scar Jason leaves in everyone he meets: the cool, nice friend.

The kind soul that he is.

It must've been hard for him to grasp that he's not the only one growing up. They'll all soon be busy with their own lives, and the bonds they all had over the years are already fading away. He sure doesn't know he'll stop thinking about them gradually in a matter of months or, most likely, years, because distance isn't the only thing that kills our bonds with old friends; it's life.

He's still in the process to learn that. Jason is unlike me in that sense, he doesn't want to see how life turns people away from us as we move along, and he'll fight to remain in his friends' life no matter how much it costs. I don't know who taught him such a thing, but I'm proud of the way he is.

I love that about him, that he strongly believes friendship –relationships– can't be overthrown by life, because that means he won't leave me behind unless I really mess up.

And I don't want to mess up. Not more than I already have.

For once, it wasn't me who ruined things and drove us apart. He's just away because he has to, not because I fucked up big time or caused him pain, even though it feels that way. This once, I can only blame it on his father, and it doesn't make me feel that much like a creepy monster.

Enough, Sam.

I already told myself I don't wanna hear myself complain anymore. I may be sick of myself, of missing my son, my boring routine, and being so worried all the time about everything; but it's lunchtime already, and my appetite seems to be the only thing that's not as fucked up as the rest of my system. My stomach's been growling for a while, as I sit here, at my desk, in front of this exasperating Excel spreadsheet.

So, I get up from my chair and drag myself downstairs, toward the fridge, to find some leftover lasagna and whatever. Without him, there's no incentive to cook me a proper meal, it feels stupid to do it if it's only for myself, so I put myself on the hunt for any leftover red wine stashed away in the kitchen cupboards while I let my food get ready in the microwave.

When I'm done with lunch, my lazy fingers tap a bit on my cellphone screen, and my feet make their way back upstairs, through the hallway until they bring me to my son's room door. It's tidier than usual; I made him clean it up before leaving. However, teenager's scent still lingers in here, and the faint fragrance is almost enough to bring his presence back home.

The room doesn't seem that small, nor the bed so narrow without him here. His soccer shoes lay on the floor near the nightstand, and the Argentinian soccer player in the poster on the wall, that Messi guy, looks toward the stands holding his own jersey, showing the number 10 to the opposing fans with a defiant and haughty expression.

Rubbing the back of my neck, now a tiny bit stiff from sitting at my laptop for hours in my cramped office, I flop onto Jason's mattress and start searching for his contact on my phone.

I can't believe this has become my new routine already. How many times will I be able to call him until he starts getting annoyed and complaining?

The ringtone goes off. No response. It's about 3pm, and it's not like Jason has been busy these last days he's been at John's place.

I frown and call him again.

Nothing.

I get it. I'm too much. Okay.

Or he left his phone somewhere. Or maybe it's off.

Perhaps he's talking with his sweet stepmother and he forgot about the woman that actually made him.

I swear I'll murder John if she even looks at my boy with the slightest touch of flirtatious interest in those dark eyes of hers. I'll cut his balls and throw them at that whore's face before she can say 'he's such a sweet boy, Samantha, why are you such an evil mother? You've raised a wonderful son.'

Enough, Sam.

I go through the gallery application, and a picture I asked Jason to take for me a couple of days ago soon pops on the screen.

Oh, yeah, I called him early in the morning, his voice still deep and groggy, and he said he had just taken his shower.

"I want to see that," I said to him, and he replied with an adorable sleepy smile. "Come on. Take a selfie. I need something to keep my hunger in check."

My son didn't give me the perfect shot, but he got the message. The most precious part is covered by his towel, but he captured just the right amount of his body. His bare chest is all in frame, that white towel wrapped around his waist, just where the beginning of a timid bulge shows, and his skin looks fresh and moist from his shower. That face, red from the warmth of the water, seems a bit drowsy, and his lips display a crimson shade in the shape of a hearty, cute smile.

Oh, wow. This pic does things to me.

Did you ever have that one picture of your crush when you were a teenager? That one special printed photograph you'd get out when no one was around and just stare at it? Well, this is something like that. Even at fourteen, he's the man whose mere image is enough to drive me wild like no other man could.

I start rubbing my thighs together, but my hands find my way down to my sweatpants, and, without even trying to, I'm now sliding them down to my ankles, throwing them out of the way. I sigh, deeply, as my eyes go up again to the screen, finding his image, my fingers underneath the waistband of my panties already.

What was I supposed to do?

With a man like this growing up under my same roof, under my supervision, what else was I to do? Could anyone, mother or not, hand on heart, tell me they wouldn't have done the same if they were in my situation?

All sorts of lewd thoughts fire my brain with what I'd be doing with that sweet, delicious body if he was right beside me at the moment, as my middle finger makes soft, circular movements on my clit, while my other hand keeps scrolling, moving through his picture.

He looks like he's still so innocent, unaware of his own appeal. His sweet lips, that soft, warm skin, his perfect, hairless chest, and the faint trail of hairs that's just started growing on his armpit...

"Fuck," I groan.

I drop the phone, put a finger inside me, and use my other hand to work my clit as the picture of my son still shows on the screen.

If only he could see me right now.

He'd be so shy at first, but with just a kiss, and my touch guiding him, he'd become the confident lover he is whenever we're alone in this house. He'd let his eyes explore me.

"Your tits," I'd whisper into his ear while unclipping my bra.

I'd give him a sassy wink, and he'd stare at me like a wolf observing its prey, but he'd be mine instead. He'd know exactly what to do. He'd put his hands on them, his tongue would run circles around my nipples, and I would run my hand through his hair while his hands felt how smooth my skin is. I'd then touch his cock, slowly, feeling it swell under the fabric, and I'd guide my hand underneath his underwear to hold him against my thigh.

After that, I'd put his head on the pillow, my face between his legs, eating that sweet teenage cock that drives me nuts while I rode his muzzle, rubbing my pleasure against his nose and lips, forcing his head against the soft cushion.

I can almost hear the wet sucking noises from his lips when his tongue works my clit like a pro. I'm such a good teacher. He'd probably push his head up, holding my hips and bury his mouth against my sex while I moan his name, my fingernails digging on the skin of his thighs while I struggle to stay standing.

And then, when he got tired of eating me out, he'd make his way back up, his dick would go up and down the folds of my sex, my juices covering him, until...

"Shit!"

I'm awakened from my dream by the vibration of my phone against my side. My legs are wide open, and the hand inside my panties is so wet already that, before grabbing my phone and turning it up to see who the caller is, I give it a lick to taste myself, then wipe it clean on Jason's bedsheets.

Jason.

Fixing my hair, I swipe my finger to answer and hold my phone right in front of my face, letting out a long breath before that, doing my best not to look like I'm two seconds from cumming.

"Hey, finally, sweetheart," I say, as composed as possible, picking up his FaceTime call. "What took you so long?"

"Hi… sorry to make you wait," says Jason, and the lack of expression in his eyes tells me that he's in a bad mood.

But, why?

"It's fine, but you know I like you keeping an eye on the phone, right?" I tell him with a stern face. I'm not mad. Just letting him know he can't just go a full day without talking to his mother.

"It was just a couple of minutes," he says. "I'll be extra careful next time, okay?"

"I said it's all good, baby," I tell him. The boy just stays silent for a couple of seconds, his eyes still not finding mine through the camera. Something's wrong, and it makes my heart clench with worry. "Why the long face, though? Is everything okay?"

"I'm just..." he sighs, attempting to keep that smile up, but he's not fooling anyone. "Yeah, I'm alright. I'm good."

"Is it your father?" I ask, curious and caring.

He gives me a half shrug. "Not really. I'm fine, Mom. I'll... You're in my room?" Jason says, staring at me, noticing his pillow under my hair, his sheets underneath me.

I nod, showing my teeth in a wide grin. "A mother misses her boy. Do you mind?"

Jason shakes his head.

For a couple of seconds, I keep my mouth shut, trying to guess what's making him so upset. "Do you wanna talk to your me? You can tell me anything," I let the next question slip out. in a playful way.

"Uh..." He scratches the back of his neck.

"Don't give me the 'I don't wanna talk about it' card. Is it Alicia? The baby?"

"Mom, please, no," he blurts out. "You're always asking about her... She's nice. You need to give her a chance. She's nothing like what you think. I don't know, I don't hate her."

Wow, I really did not see that coming.

He's not being exactly defiant or rude, but he sure looks like he's tired of getting this kind of questions from me. That's new.

"Oh, wow," I reply with my eyebrows raised high on my forehead. "She must've made some great impression on you."

"Mom, you don't-"

"It's okay, honey. You can talk about her with me if you want," I smile to make him more comfortable, and Jason's face shows that he doesn't know how to reply. He probably thought I'd make a fuss if he mentioned that young woman to me, but I can't keep myself from throwing some shade. "You're not the first man that's fallen under her spell."

"Mom... I just told you she's not a bad person. We've been getting along, okay? And I'm not saying it just because, or to piss you off, alright? Drop it."

He seems almost sick of my comments.

I get what he means, though, because I feel the same, even after everything that has happened in our lives, I can't hate the girl. Anyone would've expected Jason to hate John's new family. Alicia for the fact she stole his father; and baby Michelle for taking away his father's time and love.

He's never used that kind of tone to speak with me. And for sure he's never called me out for acting like this before. It's shocking.

Should I just accept it?

"Okay," I sigh. "Okay, baby," I keep talking, now my face looking away from the phone's screen, pretending to check some random object in his room. "I guess she is... well, that's very mature from you."

"Thank you, Mom," Jason's tone keeps a tense note in it. "I kinda hate Dad, still."

"I get why," I confess, feeling a bit of relief in my heart. "But I think you should try a bit harder..."

"Just like he does?" says my boy, with his eyebrow raised, staring at me. "Come on, Mom. Every thing he does has one final goal: looking like a good father in front of Alicia."

I just stare back, not sure if it's okay to keep this conversation going, so I shrug my shoulders and smile at him. "We have different ways to make amends. Are they around?" I ask him, meaning if someone else can listen to the conversation.

"Nope. Dad's at work. Alicia went somewhere and took the baby with her," my son informs me, looking around as if he wants to be sure he's not being spied on.

"Then, why don't you tell me what's making you so moody?"

" I'm fine," Jason repeats. "I just miss my friends… and you. I've been here for a whole week. I feel so... isolated? Is that a word?"

"That's just the word, baby," I confirm proudly.

"It's just weird. I've never spent so much time with Dad and... well, Alicia's cool, at least." His eyes then look at me, almost asking me not to take it the wrong way. "But they're not you. This doesn't feel like home, Mom."

I do know how that feels. He's a boy who just needs a bit of love, attention, and to be listened to. I take a deep breath and stare at him for a couple of seconds in silence, while my finger runs down my collarbone, drawing the boy's attention to my sweater's low-cut neck.

"I miss you too, baby. You'll go back to me. To our hideout," I promise, my fingers going down my cleavage, my nails touching my skin just enough for the boy to get it. "And your mom's waiting for you with open arms," I confess with a low, lustful voice.

However, my son eyes look too apathetic today to enjoy the little game of teasing. "Yeah, I know," Jason sighs.

I try to get him in the mood with another seductive stare. "So, you miss me, huh? Tell me what you miss most about me?" I ask, letting out a deep breath that's got my chest expanding under the tight sweater.

Jason blinks and swallows. "I... I think it's hard to say just one thing."

What's wrong with him? Is he already bored of me?

"How about when we cuddle together and I rub your head?" I try to find something he enjoys. "Or when we watch How I Met Your Mother together in our pajamas and you let me rub your belly until you fall asleep?"

But he just nods. "Yeah... all of that."

"Or how about... you know..." I try again, biting my bottom lip and raising an eyebrow. "When I touch your..."

Again, the fourteen-year-old's nose wrinkles, his face asking me not to go on.

"What's with that face, Jason?" I'm upset at his reaction. "It's fine to say what we miss about each other. It's what keeps me going, to think about you."

"I'm… not in the mood right now," his innocent, ashamed grin showing. "Can we talk about something else?"

I pout for a second, and my eyebrows curl. "What do you mean?"

"I just wanna talk about something that's not…" the boy says, looking at me with a disappointed grin that makes my eyes squint.

I don't get where this is coming from.

"You're so... you're always asking about..." he continues stuttering. "I don't know how to say this, but looks like you only want me for... that."

He's making me feel insulted now. He shouldn't make his mother upset.

"Jason, you know that's not true."

I try to put on a concerned face for him to feel understood and, at the same time, make him feel as if my heart were a little hurt because of what he said.

"I just feel like we always have the same conversations, Mom. Always… sexual."

How stupid is that? This kid thinks I only love him because of his dick.

And the truth is, he doesn't know he makes my day better just with the sight of him playing with his new console in the living room. He doesn't know this house is like a cemetery when he's not around. He thinks I can go on with my life without him here with me. As if I only remembered I have a son when I'm rubbing one out in his bed.

He has no idea. No fucking idea.

But deep down, despite what I just said, I know it's just my own fault he believes that.

"That's so unfair," I try not to sound like I'm scolding him, but my expression reveals it anyway. "Why are you saying this to me? I don't understand."

Jason looks so much like John when he frowns, his gray-blue eyes lost for a couple of seconds before he shakes his head to clear his mind and explains himself better.

"No, wait," he stutters again. "I didn't mean-"

"No, baby, you have no idea what you're saying to your mother." I shake my head and rub my temple. "I can't believe you'd ever think I only love you for… Jesus! It's disgusting!"

"Mom-"

"Don't," I tell him, looking him right in the eyes with the saddest, most hurtful look I can pull, looking like he should be the one who's sorry and begging me not to get offended. "I think you should know what you're talking about when you tell me those things. And don't tell me that's not what you meant because... I'm not stupid. You should show respect."

"Mom, you're twisting it... you do know that's not what I mean, right? Come on, please, stop it. Don't act like a victim just because you don't want me to be angry with you," Jason replies, rolling his eyes in that annoying teenage way he sometimes does when I nag him too much about something.

Wow.

He's too clever for his own good.

It's one thing to know it. It's a whole other thing to be told it to your face. I mean, yeah, that was kind of my intention, but why would he point it out? How can he see through me just like that?

"Then don't make me feel bad like you did. That's what you get from me," I tell him, painfully angry, with a pout on my lips. "And don't you dare treat your mother that way, ever again. Why don't you go find your stepmother and have some fun with her? That's all that's been on your mind these past few days. She must be doing a better job at parenting than me," I tell him, acting more dramatic than I usually do. "Just be careful and don't ask her to do what your real mother does for you under the sheets. Bye"

I then hang up the call and let my head drop into the boy's pillow with force, hunting for refuge.

"God, I'm horrible," I bury my face on my hands and sigh. "But he deserved that."

He did, right? He's probably thinking of me right now, worried, wondering if I'll be in bed crying about my broken heart because he hurt his mother with what he said.

And there he is, calling me again, not five minutes after he got hung up.

Oh, give me a break!

…

I'll be dodging his calls for now.

But, shit, what do I do with this sweet boy? I can't even pretend to be mad at him. I am upset, yeah, but more at myself than at him. He's not supposed to be that self-aware already, is he?

Seeing him all grown up, speaking his mind so clearly, viewing the world as it is at just fourteen, trying not to be unfair to others but at the same time calling me out on what he thinks he can; it fills me with pride and scares the heck outta me at the same time.

Much to my surprise, there's still a damp spot in my underwear. It's just not fair that a single boy has such a hold on me.

I'll call him back in just a while. Right now? I think I need to do something about the burning warmth between my legs that his photo awakened before he called me.

"Weirdo," I call myself out loud, sucking on my fingertip as my mind begins to wander through the same thoughts that were crossing my mind a while ago.

Yet, the joy doesn't stick around for long, when suddenly, not even on the brink of my climax, the loud ringing of the house bell interrupts me before I can cum, forcing me to remove my hand from my panties and my other hand from under my sweater.

"Again? Who the fuck...?"

Oh, yeah, that must be Phoebe. It's pretty early. She usually rolls in later, but come to think of it, maybe she's just the distraction I need right now.

My hands grab the gray sweatpants that were resting on the floor, I pull them up and try to adjust my underwear as best as I can before leaving the room, walking with some bad temper to the front door to check on whoever it is.

"I'm coming!"

With that very same mood, I look for my rimmed glasses on the living room's small table and put them on before finally reaching the entrance of our home, where I pull the doorknob open to see a face I always seem to keep trying to forget, but somehow ends up coming back.

Jesus Christ!

Life wants to make this day more difficult than I had anticipated.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Matthews," the girl says.

My eyebrows arch as if the eyes under them couldn't believe what's in front of them, and my glasses lift with my nose's gesture.

Her figure seems smaller than ever to me, as my head goes up and down to look from the top of her head to her feet. She's flawlessly dressed, like every other time I've seen her, in a jacket and a long, pretty blue dress that suits her perfectly. Her dark curls are gathered in a loose bun, with two thin locks framing her round cheeks.

I get angry just looking at her. Seeing her becoming a little more womanly than a few months ago.

And I feel stupid, just like that day before John, watching me wearing these shitty sweatpants and my sweater, with no makeup on my face.

A couple of feet away, standing next to the short path in my yard, Alex and Sarah smile and say their greetings, giving me an embarrassed look as if they know this girl's presence at my home is unexpected and probably not welcomed by its owner.

I smile and wave back at them.

"Hey guys!"

But why did they come here with her? Why does this whole thing feel like a trap?

I sigh and take my gaze back to Amanda Clark.

"Girl, what are you doing here?" I greet the teenager, not being overtly rude, but still wanting her to notice I won't just forget our last conversation and what she did to my son.

She looks around until her odd gaze fixates on the door.

"I... we were nearby, and Jason… I mean, he's off with his father, so I thought... we thought he could use some help with homework and class notes," the girl explains, pointing to the bag she's holding in her hand. "I brought some stuff if that's okay."

She's trembling just a bit, not even as scared as she should be. She can't be so stupid as to think I would ever be fine with her presence at my place. I look at the twins one more time, and the way Sarah's smiling back at me makes me think they have something planned with her.

What does she want with my son anyway? He made it very clear he was done with her, didn't he? Is she trying to show me she cares about him? What does this girl really want?

"He asked you to?" My voice isn't able to hide my confusion about her coming all the way to my home.

"No," she smiles and shrugs. "But… I just wanted to do it. We did."

Sticking out my chest, I place a hand on my hip as I give her a once over with a judging gaze, not even hiding that I find her very presumptuous.

"Well, Jason has no problem with schoolwork so far. No offense, but if he needed help with it, he'd just ask, Amanda." I smile, trying to look as sincere as I can. "Besides, I know your teachers upload all of your assignments online. They've been informed about his absence, so if there's anything he lacks, I'm sure they're already helping him with it, right guys?" I ask the twins, and Alex gives me an almost unnoticeable, guilty nod. "I'm very grateful for your interest in my son's well-being, but that won't be necessary."

The twins' eyes go from the girl to me as if they're watching a tennis match.

"Mrs. Matthews, Jason and I are still friends," the girl insists.

Meaning what?

I'd like to know who invited her over to tell me what kind of relationship they have.

"Friends?" I let out a too-subtle mocking chuckle. "Listen, girl, I'm not trying to sound harsh here, but," my eyes, as calm and nice as they can, find hers, hoping they could scare this girl enough so she'll know that I mean business and don't want her around. "He doesn't wanna talk to you. You hurt him, Amanda, so much. And, as you guys will surely understand, as his mother, it's hard for me to see someone hurting my child like that. So I'd be very thankful if you could respect his wish."

"It was a silly fight, Mrs. Matthews, I swear," the teenager tries to argue. But I really care about Jason. I really do. I overreacted!"

So? Am I just going to forget all the things she said about me in her conversations with my son before Christmas? Is that what she thinks?

She doesn't stop there.

"He's a very nice person, and he's so special and... well, I know you don't like me much, but-"

"I did like you, girl. That's why it was so painful to listen to what he went through with you," I overact, "all of it because of your fickle demands towards him, with that monthiversary thing. I was trusting you with my son! Do you even have any idea of how hard it is for a mother to put her son's heart in another person's hands? That's not something I take lightly, Amanda. He cried in my arms after that discussion with you."

Then, I glance at Alex and Sarah, who seem a little out of place with the turn things are taking, but they keep their silence.

"I'm sorry you have to hear this, guys. This has nothing to do with you. I'm just..."

Trying to teach a lesson to your friend here.

She told him I was a bitch. She said I was crazy and mean to him. To my own son! She probably thinks I'm a psychopath for not wanting her to hurt my boy anymore.

But I can't say that out loud, can I? Alex and Sarah are right here. They like me, or they did, and they're my son's friends in this town. This could get ugly, and the last thing I want is for these kids to spread some shit about me at school. I mean, it's not like anyone would believe them anyway, but it'd be a big embarrassment to get involved in some messy gossip.

And my boy... God, he'd feel so bad about it. That would kill me. They're so important to him.

I need to find a way to get rid of this girl once and for all, without Alex and Sarah thinking I'm crazy. I wish I could turn them against her somehow. Perhaps Jason could, if he told them the truth about her, but I'm not even sure he'd feel okay doing that. He's too honest, too much of a good boy. He wouldn't want them to think badly of Amanda if they're still friends with her.

We'll see about that.

"I'm being a bit rude, right?" I chuckle lightly. "I'll talk to you as grownups, okay?" I continue, still holding onto a very thin line between not saying all I'm thinking about and still trying to show my feelings. "I know I was... let's say, crazy and mean, on you on that call, Amanda. I should've never done that to you. I'm an adult, and you guys are not. I'm sorry for that," I fake my best apologetic expression and sigh. "But this is just a mother speaking, and my job is to protect my child. It's my most sacred duty. I don't wanna see him suffer. And, even if you care about Jason as much as you say, which I know you do, I just want you to respect his wish."

My wish. My desire.

"Jason doesn't want you talking to him right now."

Yeah, like that. Plain and simple.

The girl's eyes look so lost now, like she doesn't want to leave this place before I tell her what she wants to hear. But she gets it.

"Do you think he'll ever..."

"Want to make up with you? Forgive you?" I complete her question.

She just nods hopefully, making me feel like I have the real power right now. Like I should give this girl some hope, given that I don't want these teenagers to believe I'm some sort of psycho who'd hold a grudge against some kid because she dated my son once.

"You guys are still kids, Amanda. You make mistakes, all the time, as you should. You're just learning how to deal with your little troubles and emotions," I look at the girl with some sort of understanding in my eyes, as if I were sorry for the way I treated her last time. "Jason has a big heart. Bigger than any other boy his age. He's nice and special, as you just said. I'm sure he'll come to you if he ever needs a friend, but for now, the best you can do is let him have some space. Give him time."

I hope that time means forever.

The girl and her friends stand before me, in silence, exchanging looks. Alex and Sarah shrug, giving Amanda a face of defeat.

I wonder if it was their idea to do this, or if she walked here of her own accord and they thought it could work if they were the ones who came with her. Maybe they thought that, to bring them back together, she needed to win me over, which is kind of funny.

Because it's true, but it will never happen.

Amanda nods and shows a forced smile on her face, showing that she's not mad at me. Faking it, maybe? She knows it's best not to go against my wishes, that this is a game, and she just got defeated. Or she's just dumb enough to believe she could ever make up with me.

"Thank you, Mrs. Matthews. For the counsel, for letting me know how he feels," says the girl. "I'm sorry we bothered you. I just wanted to be helpful," she shrugs, holding back the tears and still looking as innocent and sweet as she did the day I met her.

Her good manners and innocent looks will surely get her far in life.

She doesn't fool me, though. Not one bit.

"That's okay. Anyways, this is no place, or time, to talk about it," I tell her, being polite enough, and not giving any chances to the kids to keep insisting. "Do you need anything else?"

"Will you..." The girl stares at me for a few seconds, "will you please tell him we were here? That I was here?"

Huh. Clever.

"Sure," I nod, not feeling sorry for her, not wanting to make an effort for a single second, "I'll let him know."

She can't even look into my eyes before turning around and leaving. I'm a bitch to her, after all. Crazy and mean. A mean, crazy bitch with so much power over the young man she loves.

Only then, as they walk away, my pocket starts vibrating with a new message, and I've got this big smile plastered on my face when I read it.

'I hope I'm not bothering u, but can I please call u back? I feel just bad. I didn't mean to make u feel that way.'

I know you didn't.

'But it's the way you made me feel,' I type. 'You say I play the victim, but now you're the one suddenly feeling bad, when I'm the one feeling worst for the things you said to me. I just wanted to check on my son, who I THOUGHT was missing his mother. Just wanted to cheer you up.'

It takes him some seconds to answer. He's typing, then he's not. Then he types again.

'Mom, I know. I'm sorry.'

'Ok,' I reply, still typing while I make my way into the living room. 'If you're really sorry, then you can call me.'

The call doesn't take long to arrive.

"Hey," he says. I don't respond at first, just a subtle expression to show him I'm really upset.

There he is, the young man I've been raising all these years, now looking more grown-up than ever, with a face like a kicked puppy, all sorry for making his mom feel bad.

"I'm... really sorry. I didn't want you to feel like that. I don't feel that way."

"But you said it to me. How else could I feel about what you told me?"

He stays silent.

"You made your mother feel like shit," I go on. "Remember the day we had that massive fight? You said you felt like I was always using you." He nods. "I thought we were past that crap."

I'm not sure, am I invalidating his feelings right now? Am I gaslighting him, as people his age say? Or am I being the reasonable mom here, after the hurtful things he said to me? Because what he's hinted at is serious stuff. And a lie.

I can't let this slide, but at the same time, it's like I'm putting the boy down to the point he can't even find his own words to speak back at me.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he apologizes. "I... I just miss you. It feels weird here, with them."

Great. And now I can't even tell if he's being honest or just saying it to keep me from getting pissed. What the hell did I do? What the hell is wrong with me?

"You mean it?" I ask him. "I don't want you to say just what I want to hear, Jason."

I sound so bitter, but what else do I do? I need to be sure my kid's not lying to me.

He's so shy he doesn't even dare look at me. "You're my family. They are not. This city isn't my place anymore. I mean, this will never be home to me without you around."

"What about the thing you said earlier, that thing about your mother only wanting to see you when she's horny," I ask, sounding hurt. "Do you still think that?"

He shakes his head, "It sounds ridiculous to me now. I shouldn't have said it."

Now he's telling the truth.

"I know," I nod. "But I want you to think about your words before you speak to me. I need you to be careful with me. I'm sensitive. I'm your mother, and you'll never be my toy boy. I could spend hours a day talking to you, baby, and I'd never get bored. It's so good to see you, to have you near, to hear you laugh at something silly I've done, to just... look at you while you eat my food. I just don't want to be annoying, calling you every time, and..." I pause and look for the right words, "...and asking for your picture every other day. I know that was... it can be weird for you, even after all the fun we've had, because... you know, you're still a little boy in many ways. My son. So, I'll try not to ask for such things all the time."

"That's fine," says my son. "I liked it when you asked me to send you that pic."

"I liked it too."

I can see his eyes smiling through the camera. I do feel bad about all of this.

"I don't mind doing things for you, Mom. I don't see any... harm in that, at this point," the boy goes on. "It's fine for me if we call, and... talk, like you said, you know. I didn't mean to upset you. It can be overwhelming. I'm back here, you're away, I'm with them now, and..." he laughs a little and scratches his nose. "No, Mom, Alicia could never do a better job than you. And she's not all I think about these last days! That was mean of you to say," Jason frowns, and his voice sounds a little angrier this time, but also playful, in that cute way only he can be.

I give him my sweetest smile. "I was mad," I giggle.

"She's…"

"She's fine, yeah, I get it."

The teenager laughs hard, and I laugh with him.

"Well, I do have to agree Dad and Alicia together make me sick sometimes, and not in the fun way you do," he tells me.

"Agree with what? I don't care about them," I confess, "I'm just a jealous mom."

"You shouldn't," he shakes his head. "But I'm getting that's just your love language."

"Love language?" My face expresses my curiosity.

"Yeah," Jason chuckles, "When you get all grabby and... protective."

I smile at him, trying to hide my teeth.

"You're now getting to know your mother, Jason," I chuckle back. "So, are we cool again?"

"Super cool," he moves his head up and down, and a subtle change in his gaze lets me know he's interested in hearing what I want from him right now. "Mom, do you... Do you need another pic? For the weekend?"