Ali's Art Ch. 05

My new life seemed a world away from the rural backwater that was Denton, but I felt the thin veneer of maturity melt away as the Delta Airlines flight circled to land at BWI three days before Christmas. I had promised Mom I would come back for the holiday. I had been unable to return for Thanksgiving, and had not been home since early Fall. When I spoke with Mom on the phone she always sounded as though she missed me. I knew she wouldn't dream of saying so, because she wanted me to be where I was, wanted me to make a success of my choice, but sometimes there was a catch in her voice, and she sounded so damn happy when I said I'd be coming back for the whole week it made me feel good.

This time Ali's enterprises allowed me to fly, so instead of a fourteen hour bus journey I had just over an hour in the air.

Mom was waiting for me in the arrivals lounge and hugged me so hard I couldn't breathe for a moment.

"Tommy, you look so grown up!" she said.

I shrugged, "Not so grown up, Mom." Although I knew I was different to the boy who went away. My clothes were better, my haircut had probably cost more than Mom usually spent on food for the week. I suppose I had grown up, but it was still good to be back, good to see Mom happy and excited because I was home.

I carried my bag outside and we caught a shuttle bus to the car park. I threw my bag in the trunk of our tired old Ford, took the keys off Mom and told her I'd drive. She could sit back and relax.

That night I put Sarah to bed. Since arriving home she had hardly left my side, wanting me to tell her all about New York, what I had been doing, what Ali had been doing, and I regaled her with funny stories about all the things that had happened, censoring hard all the other stuff. By eight o'clock her eyes were starting to droop, and it was obvious the excitement of the day was taking its toll.

I took her upstairs and sat on the side of her bed, reading a story. She had moved on from the big picture books, Dr. Zeus and Roald Dahl. Now she proudly handed me a real book, as she called it, and I opened it and read to her about Mr. Toad, Ratty and Mole, making up voices to make her laugh.

She did well, lasting all of ten minutes, but then her eyes closed and stayed shut. I read for a couple more minutes, then pulled the covers up to her chin and turned off her lamp. I left the bedroom door open an inch so light from the upstairs hallway fell into her room

When I came downstairs Mom was sitting on our big old sofa. She had opened a bottle of red wine and poured two glasses.

"You do drink, don't you Tommy?" she asked with a smile.

"Uh, yeah, I have been known to."

She offered me a glass, patted the other side of the sofa.

I dropped into the corner and she scooted across, tapping my leg. I knew what she wanted so lifted my left leg against the back of the sofa and she scooted over until she sat in the cradle made by my legs and pulled my arms around her. Mom was tactile, and it felt the most natural thing in the world to have her leaning back against me. It was the way she had always held me when I was young, and sometime over the years our roles had reversed, and lately it had been her that sat against me. With my arms around her I was careful to place one hand up on her shoulder, the other down around her waist.

After we got home Mom had changed, putting on what looked like a new dress. I was sure she had lost a little weight since I'd been gone, and the dress showed off her slim waist and large breasts. It was well made, fashioned of a fine linen-cotton mix, pale tan in color. Small buttons closed the dress all the way up the front. The top was lower cut than Mom usually wore and showed her deep cleavage. The hem fell to just touch her knees when she was standing. Now, leaning back against me she had raised her legs and the skirt had ridden up onto her thighs.

"Tell me about New York, Tom," she said.

I told her the things I could, and skipped over the ones I couldn't, just like I had with Sarah.

"And what about girls?" She asked. "You're such a good looking young man, you must have girls chasing after you."

"A few, maybe." I admitted.

"But you're careful, Tom, aren't you?"

I nodded and looked down at her nestled against my chest, "I'm careful, Mom."

"And how's Alison?" she asked. "Is this new apartment nice? Is sharing working out?"

"It's working really well," I said.

She hugged me tight against her, "Good. I've missed you, Tom, but I'm glad you went. And thanks for coming home this week. It means a lot to me."

I kissed the top of her head, smelled the fresh shampoo in her hair. "How could I miss Christmas at home?"

Mom poured more wine and drank hers quickly, then wriggled back so she was pressed hard against my stomach. I could see she was getting a little drunk, a little silly, and it felt like fun and I wanted her to be happy after the tough times she had been through. I slid my arms around her again, one up, one down. Mom put her hand on my upper forearm and pulled it downwards. I could feel my wrist pressing against the swell of her breasts and she sighed and stopped tugging. It was still OK, just, but I was very aware of the rise of her breast under my arm, and very aware also that I was growing hard and worried Mom must have felt it as well because she was pressed tight back against my crotch.

She either really didn't notice, or pretended not to, although she did wriggle her ass a bit further back, and I wondered if she was teasing me.

"This is great, Tommy. Give Mom a kiss."

She angled her face back and up to me and I bent and kissed her on the lips. We were not cheek kissers, never had been. But this time I felt her hand on the back of my neck and she held me against her for longer than usual.

When we broke she smiled and put her head back on my chest, "Thanks. Just what I needed."

I sat there feeling weird. Had my Mom just made a pass at me?

If it hadn't been Mom I would have been flattered. Because she had given birth to me so young she was still only 37 and had kept her figure and skin tone and could easily pass for someone ten years younger. She was on the short side, standing about five-three without shoes, and had blonde hair, curly like mine and cut only a little longer. Her face was pretty if not beautiful, and her body was the kind you just had to look at, and stay looking at. She was vivacious.

"What about you, Mom? No tall handsome man on the horizon?"

She laughed, the moment of tension, if there had been one and it had not just been me, broken. She pulled away and tipped the bottle into her glass. A tiny dribble of wine emerged. "Shit," she muttered, then covered her mouth with her hands, "Sorry, Tommy."

I laughed. "I do swear, Mom, now and then."

She got up and smiled, "Yes, you're a grown man now, aren't you?" She padded through to the kitchen and came back with another bottle, gave it and the corkscrew to me to open. I uncorked the wine and topped her glass, put a lesser amount into mine.

Mom drained half hers in a swallow and held her glass out for more.

"Are you sure, Mom?" I said.

"I want to get drunk, Tommy. It's just so great to have you home, and I feel so happy, I just want to get a bit drunk and cuddle up to you."

"Don't blame me for your bad head in the morning then," I said, and refilled her glass.

Mom sipped from her glass and leaned back on me. She lifted herself up and when she sat back it was on my lap and my swollen cock now rested between the round, firm cheeks of her ass.

I could feel her bare leg against my jeans where her dress had risen up.

Mom pulled my arms tight around her and again I felt that tug as she moved my upper arm down. The wine was getting to me as well, and what I should have done was make some excuse and move away. But I didn't. Instead I let the hand that was wrapped around her stomach rise until it very lightly cupped the underside of her left breast. We sat that way for a while. I didn't want to move any further in case Mom thought my hand cupping her was accidental and wasn't going to say anything. But she seemed relaxed, and she seemed to be pressing pretty firmly back against me.

Very slowly I began to stroke her skin with the fingers of my other hand, where it rested against her shoulder. My fingers slid gently inside the open neck of the dress and I stroked her warm smooth skin. Still she said nothing, still she made no move away.

My cock was now painfully hard inside my pants and I desperately wanted to move to ease it but did not dare disturb what was happening.

Instead I allowed my fingers to continue their gentle massage of her shoulder blade and slide beneath the strap of her bra. Slowly, very slowly they drifted down. I felt the upper curve of her breast and continued. My fingers reached the top of her bra and I stopped, my heart fluttering inside my chest, my mind flipping back and forward over what to do. Was I really trying to get my hands on my Mom's tits? Was I willing to let this go where it appeared to be going?

"That's nice, Tommy," Mom murmured. "You've got soft fingers."

She must know what I was doing, but she was offering no objection or resistance.

I continued to run my fingertips along the upper edge of her bra, not daring to make any attempt to slide them further. I had to make a decision, now, about where this was going. I realized that if I let things go on I might end up making a pass at my mother. I found I was not as shocked at the idea as I should be, and could easily imagine the pleasure we might experience. My mother was very attractive, and I had definitely had fantasies about her when I was growing up. But now, the reality was beginning to overwhelm me.

I sighed and withdrew my hand from the warm curve of her breast. For a moment her fingers tugged at my wrist and tried to move my hand back, but when I kept up the pressure she released and let me go. She laid her head back to look up at me and I kissed her once, briefly, and said, "Mom, I think you've had a little too much to drink. You need to go to bed."

I felt her wriggle her ass back against my crotch, and I tried to stop my cock responding. I pushed her gently away again.

"Go on," I said. "I'll lock up. You need to sleep."

"You can come up with me if you want, Tommy," she said softly.

"I know I could, Mom. And it's tempting. But I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

She looked at me and then slowly nodded. "I understand, Tommy. Goodnight." She lifted herself off me and walked unsteadily to the stairs, climbed them slowly. Half way up she paused and turned back. "You're sure?"

"No, Mom, I'm not. Sleep well."

She smiled and disappeared onto the top hallway.

I sat for five minutes, breathing deeply. I looked down at the bulge in my jeans and smiled to myself. There was a big damp patch half way along the outlined length of my cock where my Mom had been sitting on me.

Fuck, I thought, and got up and checked the doors and windows, turned out the lights and put the guard in front of the fireplace. I followed my Mom upstairs. I noticed she had left her door ajar, and made myself walk past it to the end of the hallway.

"Goodnight, Tommy," I heard her call softly.

"Goodnight Mom," I replied.

The following morning I was downstairs before Mom. Sarah was up early as usual. I made her breakfast and chatted with her while we ate and then she bounced up and dashed back upstairs to wash. When Mom finally descended the stairs she looked pale and unsteady on her feet.

"You OK, Mom?" I asked.

She lowered herself into a chair at the kitchen table and put her face in her hands. "I feel like crap, Tom," she said. "How much did I have to drink last night?"

"Quite a bit."

"A bit too much," she said. She looked across at me and gave a crooked smile and I thought she looked utterly beautiful. "Thanks for being a gentleman last night."

So she remembered. "It wasn't easy, Mom."

She continued to stare at me and eventually I had to look away and pretend to be busy with my plate.

"It's OK Mom, really," I said, getting up and taking my things to the sink. "We were both a bit excited, and tired, and drunk. I was flattered."

"But Tommy," she whispered, "I think I was going to let you touch me! No - I wanted you to touch me. I wanted you to do more than just touch me. I'm a fucking terrible mother."

I was startled to hear Mom swear, to come right out and say the same as had been in my mind. Things were certainly changing around the house.

"You're not a terrible mother," I said. "And it's me should be apologizing. I was weak. You are very beautiful, Mom, and any man would want you."

"But I'm your Mom," she whispered back. "I'm not supposed to want sex with my son!"

She had come out and said it, the big thing. "It happens," I said. "I think it probably happens more than we know. We'll just have to be careful."

"Careful?" she said.

"Mom, you are a really, really attractive woman, and you're not all that much older than me. And I'm a young guy whose dick has a mind of its own, and I can tell you now my dick wanted you last night!" If Mom could use dirty words in front of me, then I could do the same back.

She nodded. "Yes, we should be careful," she said, but I was worried that I didn't hear a great deal of conviction in her voice, but just then Sarah came back and jumped at me and I had to grab her.

"Tommy, take me out for a walk. I want to show you where I play."

I laughed and twirled her round. "Come on then, pumpkin. But make sure you dress up warm. I'll see you later Mom, unless you want to come too?"

She shook her head, "I need to do the washing, and I want to clean the house. Have a good time. I'll see you later."

Sarah took me around all her favorite sites, showed me where she played, where her friend's houses were. We walked into town and I took her to McDonald's and then asked if she wanted to see a movie. She chose a cartoon I had never heard of, but it was still fun sitting with my little sister in the theater and hearing her giggle at all the stupid jokes.

It was getting dark by the time we arrived back home, and we were both hungry again.

Mom was in the kitchen preparing food. "Spaghetti," she said.

Sarah jumped up and down, still wrapped in her coat. "I love spagheretti!"

I helped her out of her coat and then made her go upstairs and wash.

"Did you have a good time?" Mom asked.

"We had a great time," I said.

She smiled over her shoulder at me. During the day she had changed and now wore another dress I hadn't seen before. It was dark blue and made of a fine material that showed her curves off to perfection. I studied the way it fell from her shoulders, pulled in over the small waist and then flaring over her hips. The hem fell to just above her knees and I let my eyes drift down her smooth legs. She looked like she had given herself a spring clean as well as the house.

I walked over and put my arms round her waist, kissed her on the neck. "I love you, Mom."

"I know you do, Tommy." For a brief moment I felt her press back against me, then she said, "There's beer in the fridge if you want one."

I laughed and let her go, "I don't know if alcohol is a good idea, Mom."

She tossed her head and looked at me. "We've decided to be good, Tommy. Have a beer."

"PK." I twisted a can off the six pack she had put on the bottom shelf, and flopped on the sofa to watch tv for a while. We didn't have a tv in New York, and I found it strange to sit and be entertained (or not) in such a passive way.

Sarah came down and snuggled in beside me, took the remote and changed the channel to something she wanted. Life felt good.

After supper was cleared away we sat around the kitchen table and played silly games with Sarah which made her laugh a lot, and which also made Mom and me laugh as well.

At eight o'clock Mom said, "OK Sarah honey, time for bed."

"Oh Mo-om," Sarah complained.

Mom shook her head. "Go on, brush your teeth and wash your face and I'll come and tuck you in."

"Tommy," Sarah said. "I want Tommy to read again."

Mom looked at me and I nodded, "Sure. I'd love to, Sarah. Go get ready and give me a shout."

From the short time until she called down the stairs, I'm not sure how well she washed, but I went up anyway. She was snuggled down under her cartoon duvet and had replace The Wind in the Willows with an old picture book.

I sat down and opened it. "Anything special, honey?"

"The princess one," she said.

I paged through and found the right story and started to read. Despite Sarah's protestations of not being tired, fifteen minutes later her eyes had closed and she started to breath slowly and I knew she was sound asleep. I turned off her light and kissed her brow, left her door open so that a little light fell into the room, and went downstairs.

Mom was sitting in the corner of the sofa, her legs tucked under her, the new dress just letting her knees peek out. A bottle of wine and two glasses had been placed on the coffee table but not poured. Mom was looking down at her hands resting in her lap. Her eyes were red and I realized she was quietly crying.

I went across and knelt in front of her, resting my hands on her thighs just above her knees.

"Mom, what is it?"

She sniffed and wiped her arm across her eyes. "I'm sorry, Tommy. It's just that I was sitting here, thinking about you reading to Sarah, and how you're all grown up now and I've started to lose you, and how it felt like for tonight anyway we were all one family, and I felt good, and I don't know, I just started to cry. But I'm not sad, Tommy. Really, I'm not sad."

"You're not going to lose me, Mom. You'll never lose me."

She smiled at me. "But your growing up, Tommy. You've grown up. I saw it yesterday when you came off the plane. You're so much more confident, more mature than when you went away."

I smiled to myself and took her hands from her lap and held them. "But I'll always be here for you, Mom, you know that don't you?"

She shook her head, smiling, "I don't know, Tommy, you say that now, but one day you'll be married, have kids of your own and-"

"And you'll find someone too, Mom. You're a beautiful woman, and you're still young. You'll find someone and they'll make you happy."

"You make me happy, Tommy," she said. "And all the men I meet are ether married, or single and stupid. Men my age are single for a reason, Tom."

"Then get yourself a toy boy, Mom," I grinned.

"They're all so into themselves I couldn't stand one. You're not like that though, Tom. You're just perfect."

"Thanks Mom."

She sat up and twisted her legs out from underneath her, sniffed and wiped her hands over her face, straightened up and said, "Open the wine, Tommy, and then hold me like you did last night. Let's just enjoy this week together."

I smiled and poured a glass for each of us then sat in the corner of the sofa and parted my legs. Mom sat between them and leant back against me. I clinked my glass against hers. "What shall we toast to?" I said.

"Us," Mom said.

"To us," I said and clinked her glass again. Mom took a small sip and put her glass back on the table.

"I'm not getting drunk tonight, Tommy. I don't want to make a fool of myself again."

I opened my arms and she slid back inside them and wriggled herself against me.

"You didn't make a fool of yourself, Mom, no way. In fact I was flattered."

She snorted, "Yeah, middle aged Mom makes a pass at her boy. Very flattering."

I kissed her hair. "It was, Mom, it really was. And no way are you middle aged. I bet if we went out together people would think we were a couple."

She hugged her arms over mine tight around my waist, "Thanks, Tommy. But you need a girl your own age. Someone like Alison - although she's your cousin, I know, but someone like her."