That night I lay in bed reliving the poignant events of the day. There was no denying what had transpired, nor was there any point in denying that the feelings of intense love and desire for my own mother had always been there, just below the surface of conscious acknowledgement. The truth was I didn’t have a steady girlfriend because I had always been in love. I wanted my first time to be with someone special. Someone with whom I was so in love, that the experience would stretch the boundaries of sensory perception beyond imagination. One can only lose one’s virginity once. I could either lose it in an explosion of teenage hormonal lust with the first girl I found cute enough to bed or I could lose it in a way that was a life-long cherished memory. I had chosen the latter much to the chagrin of a couple of young ladies who felt we had reached a stage in our relationship where we ought to have consummated it and transitioned past the platonic. Call me old fashioned but I wanted more than just sex, only to discover the sad truth was that I wanted more than just sex with the one woman who I couldn’t possible have; the woman I had always loved, my own mother. It isn’t much of a stretch to say that having one’s own mother sexually is certainly a social taboo. I vaguely recall in my younger days learning that there might even be legally unpleasant consequences but that might have been age related. To boot, it was pretty much explicitly forbidden by just about any religion. Bit of a pickle. Boy falls in love. With the one woman he can’t have, Boy too naïve or idealistic to just jump nice girl but insists on first time being with love-of-life. Boy makes love-of-life his own mother. Boy is moron.
With that undeniable conclusion, I took a book from my bedside table and immersed myself into it so that I would eventually fall asleep. Thank God for Dean Koontz.
The next morning I awoke despondent. Took a while for my groggy mind to figure out why I was despondent. Ah yes, boy was a moron, or is a moron. Looking at the moron in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, optimism began to seep in. Must have been the sight of my lips wrapped around the handle of my tooth brush, that brought back the memory of my mother’s lips on them. The mind blowing sensations that had followed. Maybe, just maybe, mom would consider … hmmm, consider what? Did I expect her to start dating me? Oh sure, that made a whole lot of sense. I would just walk up to mom and ask her if she would date me because I was madly in love with her. She would of course be delighted to throw away her marriage and date her own son instead. Boy was really a moron.
Sighing I finished up and walked down for breakfast. Still lost in gloom but not thinking, I made my way to the breakfast nook with the bay windows. Early spring sun was streaming through the windows framing an angel. Her hair shone like gold silk threads. The sun weaved into her blonde hair, the glow of a halo with electric bahis firmaları sparks dissolving into rainbows. Her body clearly visible under her translucent robe. The sunlight making a mockery of her robe, exhibiting her body, like nature’s cherished treasure for all to behold. Well, we were at home, and there was just me, but you get the idea. Her breasts thrusting out, B cups that were modest yet feminine. Her lithe figure perfectly sculpted. Her head tilted up just ever so slightly as she read the paper, emphasizing her graceful neckline. Her legs crossed gracefully, yet tantalizingly, emphasizing the sheer length and slimness.
Her voice interrupted my revere, my ears first celebrating the soft modulation of sound before my mind caught up to comprehend the words, “Would you like to come and join me for breakfast or do you plan on standing there and watching me eat?” Her tone was filled with amusement. I was watching her in profile and had forgotten how aware she always was.
“Uh, good morning mom. I … I,” I what? I had been busted ogling my own mother. I decided the best defense was silence as I slipped into a chair opposite her whilst wishing I could rewind the clock, keep the memory of the sight of her and skip past the embarrassment.
She slowly put down the paper and blue eyes looked at me frankly with a twinkle in her eyes. “So, are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or will you make me guess?”
I swallowed hard. She was always very good at reading me, “Uh, I’m just a little distracted.”
She gave her patented soft gentle laugh, “Well, we feeling like stating the obvious this morning then,” as she poured me orange juice without asking. She always seemed to know what I wanted too.
I sighed, “Well, I … I think I’m in love.” There, out in the open.
“I had noticed the signs honey. You may find this hard to believe but it seems to happen a lot around me. Although I claim to do nothing to encourage the state. So many people are superficial and only look at me and think they are in love.”
Her eyes took me in while sharing all this. The eyes that could make the whole world disappear. It was so hard to concentrate when those eyes were on me. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound, “The thing is I’m in love with someone I can’t have, mom.”
She just smiled, “That would be a matter of perspective. Does she love you?”
“Yes, but perhaps not the way I want her to.”
“Now that’s interesting.” She let the silence hang in the air as her eyes penetrated my soul. I clung to the silence in desperation. She raised her cup to her lips slowly, taking in a long slow sip of coffee, sighed, contently. “Shall I ask the obvious question or would you be so kind?.”
I looked up at those beautiful blue eyes, swallowed hard and went for it. “I’m in love with you mom,” while holding my breath in preparation for what I had brought on myself. I was in deep trouble but whom else was I going kaçak iddaa to tell? At least it was off my chest. I glanced up to see her eyes on her coffee mug. Her finger tracing the edge of her cup. Her response was silence. Thoughtful, pregnant silence. I felt that I had finally done it. Destroyed the relationship I had with my mother. Irreparably. I was miserable. Not only had I lost a dearly cherished relationship but also I had disappointed my own mother. God, I was in deep trouble and had lost everything that had meant anything to me. I was depressed beyond imagination. I wanted it all to end. There was nothing to look forward to.
“So, what would you like to have happen?” she asked throatily. It took me a while to clear my head enough to understand what I had been asked. Could it be? Suddenly I was filled with hope. I cleared my throat. But I hadn’t thought through this. I hadn’t thought it possible.
“I … could … it be possible for us to have something … beyond mother and son?” I asked in a voice I didn’t recognize.
She slowly looked up and met my eyes. Only this time her eyes were dead serious. She bit her lower lips slowly, “You know honey, you only know one side of me.”
I nodded slowly, “Yes mom, I only know you as my mother. You think I don’t know you as a woman?”
She smiled slowly, almost sadly, “You were always my bright young man. I’m always so proud of you honey. Yes, do you have any idea what I’m like as a woman?”
She had a point. I thought about it. Then I looked at her with conviction, “Mom, I know I love you. I love everything about you. I want to love you in every way. No bounds. No limits.”
She smiled slightly, almost sadly. “Are you sure honey? This is a big step. You know it’s not normal for a mother and son to have that kind of relationship. Are you ready to cross that line? To live like that?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My mother calmly suggesting that we have a relationship. A relationship that I thought could not be. She was calmly discussing the consequences. I wanted it so much, so bad, that I would do anything to have her. And that’s what I told her. Only I realized that there was one complication, “What about dad?” I asked softly. I didn’t want to bring it up. I wanted to ignore it. I wanted it not to be. But I had to ask. I was so close. I could almost have it. I couldn’t ignore the reality.
She took a deep breath, then looked up at me, “Honey, I am also in love with you. I’ve brought you up to be the perfect man as I imagined him to be. And you are every inch that man. Your father understands how I feel. He cares for me. Loves me deeply and wants me to be happy more than anything else. We have talked about it. He agreed to let me pursue my love and to not be in the way. I love your father. But my love for him is … different. We are both happy if we are there for each other. But what I feel for you … is … well … not platonic,” she laughed. kaçak bahis “But I needed to make sure you could handle it. It will be very different. Are you ready for that darling?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Did my mother just tell me that she had already discussed with her husband, my father, having a relationship with me? I looked at her, “Oh God mom. I want you so much. I want to have that kind of relationship with you.”
She smiled, “What kind?” she asked mischievously.
“You know,” I responded blushing.
“No honey, you need to say it. I need to make sure you can handle it.”
“Mom, I want you as my girlfriend. I want to make love to you. I want to live with you as your boyfriend. I want to share a bed with you,” I blurted eagerly.
She waited a long moment till the initial wave of heat had passed. Then she beckoned with her finger. I moved up to her and gently kissed her, tasting her sweet forbidden lips. The sensation was so incredibly intense. More so than the last time. Her soft lips felt so good, tasted incredible. Tasted so familiar. Her lips moved perfectly with mine. I felt my body tremble with excitement. Her lips were warm, tender, unhurried, yet passionately strong. I had never imagined that lips could feel like this. Her lips controlled the pace of our kissing then suddenly followed my lead.
She moved smoothly between being led and leading. Our kiss was so comfortable, so natural, that the dance between roles was completely without hesitation. As our lips parted, emphasizing the depth of our mutual desires, I lost my grip on reality, sliding into a world of sensations. Explosive, intense sensations. My whole body tingled, fireworks in my head, my lips were more alive that I had ever thought possible. I could feel every muscle of her mouth, taste every subtle pressure change of her lips. Her breathing was in tune with my heartbeat. Our mouths sealed together, sharing every breath of air. Our lives joined in sharing the most basic need for life. Without breaking the seal of our mouths, our faces moved together in a poetry of shared emotions. Intense, powerful emotions that had been denied for too long. DNA that was meant to be one finally reunited.
When our lips finally, reluctantly, parted I gasped for air, my mind whirled from the blood rushing, my whole body ached with sadness from the separation of our lips. I was physically spent from the emotional release of our kiss. Looking into my mother’s eyes I saw a mixture of deep love, sorrow and hope. We had crossed a line. A line that was never meant to have been crossed. Starting a new journey. A journey that may not have been unique but would never be shared. A journey that we had to make alone. A journey that would be filled with perils, with trials, but one we wanted to take together for what we would gain. I understood her sadness. We would experience such wonders together yet we would pay a high price. The gentle vulnerable kiss she gave me told me she would give herself completely to me and would pay the price. I knew that life existed only for what we would have together. I loved her with my heart, with my mind, with my soul.