Every Other Weekend Ch. 02

Thanks for the feedback, both positive and negative. The positive feedback lets me know where I'm doing okay; the negative, where I need to improve. Lord knows we all need improvement. All feedback is welcome.

Some opined that the story is too long-winded. I won't disagree that it is long, but I don't apologize for it. I like lengthy, drawn out stories on this site and, generally speaking, I'm going to write what I like. And just cross my fingers and hope others like it, also.

I did lose the ALL CAPS, as a couple of folks commented they were a distraction. I had been on the fence about the ALL CAPS thing anyway.

And to the gentleman who suggested a can of Del Monte cream style corn and clothes pins be used in a foot fetish scene, thanks, but while the idea is somewhat intriguing, I don't feel such a scenario will fit in this story. But I'll keep it mind.

*

My lover seemed to ooze into the mattress. As much as I would have liked to snuggle with him, the intensity of our morning had drained him and he was asleep before I could whisper, "I love you, honey."

I leaned toward Jim and lightly kissed his cheek. He mumbled something that was unintelligible and resumed a light snoring.

Sitting up, I slid to the edge of the bed and grimaced inwardly as I felt our mingled fluids begin draining. I clenched my vaginal muscles and slipped from the bedroom.

The snow storm continued unabated; the snow piling up on the balcony was already over a foot deep. I grinned at the possibility I wouldn't be able to leave Sunday as I plugged the new cassette I made for Jim into his stereo and pressed 'play.'

In the bathroom, I found a damp towel, stuffed it between my legs and relaxed, allowing Jim's semen to seep out of my body. "It feels nice." I whispered softly to myself.

As I waited, I examined the woman who stared out at me from the cracked mirror above the sink. I looked for signs of guilt or shame. I found none. What I found instead was peace and contentment and clarity of purpose that was beginning to round into shape.

I felt sated, for the first time in years. I felt delicious. My vaginal muscles were a little sore, but it was a wonderful feeling. Likewise, I could tell my thigh muscles would be complaining energetically in a day or so. It had been a long time since I had used them so vigorously.

No, I wasn't wracked with regret for having entered into a sexual relationship with my son. I was sure I wasn't going to take out a flier in the Daily Mining Gazette announcing the fact, but I wasn't about put an end to it, either.

I disposed of the towel in the hamper and took a few minutes to quickly rinse myself off in the shower. I donned a clean pair of cotton panties and bra and wrapped myself in my robe. I padded to the kitchen for a lukewarm cup of coffee and returned to the couch.

Curling my feet up underneath me, I sipped at the coffee and tried to map out where Jim and I were headed.

Gluck provided a soundtrack for my thoughts.

We hadn't done much talking since my arriving, and it is hard to be introspective with a hard penis in your vagina. At the very least, it was hard for Jim's dear and beloved mother to be reflective under those conditions.

I wasn't foolish. Things could be very difficult for Jim and me. Regardless of my personal views on the subject, I was fairly certain there were statutes on the books that prohibited the kind of relationship I had entered into with my son. I wasn't at all sure what the penalties were for incest, but I was sure there were legal consequences.

Still, my heart cried out silently that it wasn't wrong. God and man might frown on what I had done with Jim, but I knew in my heart of hearts that it wasn't wrong! Especially when I considered how good he made me feel.

I'd always loved sex. I had adored everything about the act and all its myriad pieces and parts since a high school boyfriend showed me what it was all about. And then when, a couple of years later, Paul came along, I was shown how it could be with love wrapped up in the trappings.

But comparatively speaking, sex with Paul didn't even come close to sex with our son. Jim showed me how it could be with love wrapped up in the trappings and with a man with a generously proprotioned penis.

It wasn't my fault my husband left me high and dry. It wasn't Jim's fault he developed an unusual attraction to me that he'd not been able to tame. I supposed, sipping my tepid java that it wasn't about fault at that point. We were where we were and the real job was in determining where to go from that point.

In the back of my mind, as surely as I knew anything, I knew I was talking crap to myself. I was confident that when Jim woke from his sex-induced slumber and walked into view, my vision would again color with the hot, crimson haze of lust and I'd again be lost.

And I also recognized that I really didn't want to be found.

Another problem was the very real and very powerful fear that I would do lasting damage to my baby. And I couldn't live with that.

My thoughts fell silent and I snuggled deeper into the threadbare sofa and enjoyed the quiet solitude of a snowbound afternoon and the relaxing sounds of Mozart and Bach and Debussy.

I fell asleep for what could have been two minutes or two hours. The next thing I became aware of was being gently woken by the love of my life. My bleary eyes slowly swam into focus and found Jim staring at me.

"Hi." He smiled with devotion written all over his striking, almost feline features.

"Hi, honey." I yawned, stretching my arms over my head and reveling in the luscious sensation of my muscles pulling taut and then releasing. "What are you doing?"

"Just watching you sleep, mom." He reached up and brushed...

...her cheek with my fingertips. "I like watching you sleep. Your face is like an angel's when it is relaxed."

"And when it's not?" I smirked.

He laughed and cupped my chin, "When it isn't relaxed it is warm and generous and makes my heart swell."

Mom blushed and smiled broadly, but she didn't disagree. "Thank you, honey. It makes me feel nice to hear such things."

She leaned toward me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pulled me into her. Her warm softness made me feel alive and safe. Her scent was clean and fresh. I rested my head on her bosom and was content to just hold her.

She was my special place. My happy place. She was all that I yearned for in life and she was mine, of that I was sure. I had ached for her with an unholy passion and now she was mine. I had obsessed over her since shortly after my voice changed and I noticed mom had interesting bumps and curves that dad and I didn't.

I quietly vowed, at that moment, with mom's warm breath on my neck and her hands slowly caressing my back, that I would never do anything to make her wonder about how I felt.

I raised my face to hers and looked intently in her deep brown eyes. "I love you, mom."

"I know you do, honey, but what don't you love?"

"Pop music, broccoli, and remakes of classic movies." I kissed her chin. "But I don't think you understand, mom. I'm in love with you, in every way possible for a man to love a woman."

Mom's eyes closed as I lightly kissed her pert little nose. "I think I knew that, darling. I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you, too, if I'm not already there."

I delicately kissed mom's eyes and lips. Soft, feather-light kisses. Her skin felt like satin on my lips.

Mendelssohn drifted dreamily in the apartment as two people confessed their heart's truths. I could see mom's truth shining in her eyes and I could feel it in her gentle touch. It wasn't just a mother's love for a son; it was much more, much deeper.

Our lips came together as lightly as the snow that fell outside. Her soft, moist lips molded to mine and for a long and delicious eternity, we kissed. Sweetly and softly. It wasn't about lust -- which we shared in spades -- or about the natural bond that mothers and sons share. It was about two hearts becoming one.

A small tear leaked from mom's eye when we broke apart and stared at each other. I kissed it away.

"Honey," She whispered hoarsely, "You make me feel things that I've never felt before. You've touched my heart in ways that it has never been touched. You've shown me what love should be, and I'll go to my grave loving you."

I smiled and started to answer her but she cut me off.

"I think I can fall in love with you, honey, but I'm not...sure that I should."

Her tears began falling freely. A confused look must have spread across my face because mom tightened her arms around me and pulled my head down to her chest.

"What I m...mean is, I'm not sure my being your lover won't...create problems for you. I don't think I can live with myself if being with you means I've harmed you in any way."

I almost laughed. I gripped mom's arms at the elbows and gently extricated myself from her embrace. I sat up on the couch and slid my hands up to hold her hands in mine.

"Look at me, mom." I tried hard to make my love for her echo in my voice.

Her tear streaked face turned to me and I smiled as lovingly as I could manage. "Listen, mom, there is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you. You didn't ruin me by...being with me. I was 'ruined' that way a long, long time ago, and you had nothing to do with it. You can stop what is happening with you and me, but it will change nothing as far as I'm concerned. Besides, dear heart, any 'damage' that can possibly be done, has already been done since last night."

"But honey..." Mom's gentle crying stopped. I could see her trying to gather feeble arguments.

"No buts, mom." I leaned close and kissed her softly. "Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Do I make you happy?"

"Yes, of course."

"Do you like making love with me?"

"Oh my God, yes! A thousand times yes!"

"Then there is no problem. Whether or not you and I continue together, it won't change the way I feel about you. I love you and I know you love me. We're good together and always have been. We can be good together for the rest of our lives."

Mom's self-doubt had vanished. The happy light had returned in her eyes. She nodded emphatically and used the lapel of her robe to dry her damp cheeks.

"I'm sorry, darling." She looked a little perturbed with herself, "Don't blame me for being a little...uh... hormonal. It's just that what we are...is so...unusual...and I can't help being a little fearful. But I promise, so long as you want me, I'm yours. If I get a little crazy, just talk to me, like you just did, and I'll be fine."

My lips pressed to hers, then, and I showed her with my tongue that I loved her in no uncertain terms.

Our mouths slued together hungrily, urgently and as our tongues danced the dance of love, I untied the belt on her robe and pushed it off her shoulders. And still our kiss went on. My hands caressed her shoulders, her arms, the warm, soft flesh of her quivering stomach. She surged when I lifted my hands to her bra-clad breasts, cradling, lifting, kneading. And she was groping at the rapidly rising thickness between my legs.

Gasping for oxygen, our bodies on fire, we broke apart momentarily and quickly shed our clothing. We froze for a moment to read the others mind and then scrambled to get into position. Mom slipped down onto her back on the couch and bared herself for me as I climbed between her splayed legs.

She was so incredibly sexy as she waited for me. The globes of her breasts shivering on her chest, her nipples excited and taut. Her aureoles were wrinkled with excitement. Her figure still held an hourglass shape, her waist flaring out gently to her hips. And her treasure. Covered in a thick, curly tangle of coarse pubic hair, mom's pussy drew me down to her.

Mom parted the lips of her pussy with the fingers of her left hand as I guided myself into position. We both grunted at the sensation of me lubing myself up with her moisture. My own pre-come was leaking from the slit in my helmet like faucet.

She almost pulled me into her as I leaned into her and sank almost half-way into her soupy channel. I drew back slightly and pushed forward again with my hips. Just that fast I was inside her, the head of my dick nudging against her cervix.

"Ooooooooohhhhhhh Chriiiiiiiiiiist..." Mom wheezed heavily.

Frantically, she raised her right leg and hooked it around both of mine. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders and held me tight. Her hot wetness felt spectacular on my penis and I felt as though my heart was being squeezed by the fist of a leviathan. I loved her so damned much.

Ever so slowly we began moving together. Unhurried. Almost leisurely, which was extremely curious considering the sheer intensity of the passions that were consuming us.

"I love you." We panted together, over and over. Our lips brushed. Our eyes never wavered from each others.

We were two people in love, giving and taking. Mom's pussy was grasping at my rigid cock as it slid in and out of her. The slurping, sucking sound of our coupling combined with the melodic strains of Haydn and the regular creaking of the couch.

Ever so gradually, our gentle thrusting increased. Nothing mattered except the lady that gave herself to me. She was my first and last, and I knew love would never be better. Pure love coursed through my veins as I stroked into her, and she raised her hips with each thrust.

"Ohhhhhh...honey..." She sucked at my neck, her nails dug into my back, "Your c...cock is so wonderful in my...oh...pussy. Make me come, b...baby, make me...ughn...come."

I couldn't think or focus on anything but mom's cunt. The way she felt around my cock was mind-blowing. She was a tight, wet little blast furnace that sucked at me so exquisitely I could hardly stand it. Harder and faster we coupled.

Mom achieved orgasm as mine was building. Her entire body arched beneath me and she cried out in a cry that sounded almost painful.

"Ooooooooooooooohhhh m...my G...God!" She bellowed in a decidedly unladylike manner. I'm pretty sure she drew blood on my back with her nails.

Spasms wracked her body violently as her climax rolled on and on. Her vaginal muscles gripped at my erection over and over as I continued thrusting into her. Her eyes were squeezed shut hard and she actually bit my shoulder.

And then my testicles boiled over and I achieved my own orgasm.

I couldn't help it. I screamed. "Ohhhh! Ooooohhhhhhh! Mmmmmmmmmommmmmmmm!"

I planted myself into her convulsing pussy and my own body convulsed hard as my semen shot out of my cock deep into her belly. Over and over I shook and trembled as stream after stream of my come coated her insides.

Mom could say whatever she liked, but I knew, as we shuddered and quivered together, that she loved me as much as I loved her. She proclaimed it with her whole body. The way she pushed herself up into me. With her mouth. With her hands. She loved me with everything she was capable of, of that I was certain.

And my heart swelled in the knowledge.

Later, after we showered, mom and I lounged together on the couch and enjoyed the classical mix tape she had brought with her from Ahmeek. Bach, Vivaldi, Brahms, and Schubert. We snuggled together, occasionally kissing lightly, mostly, though, we just held each other.

And I wondered at the wisdom -- or lack thereof -- of trying to make mom's darkest fantasy a reality.

Chapter 15

Late that afternoon, Mom and I bundled up and went out. The roads were choked with snow, so we walked. Arm in arm we walked through a blanket of virgin snow down to the Econofoods. We spent a little less than half an hour browsing the isles. Mom bought a couple of locally made pasties, a frozen lasagna, and a half-gallon of milk.

We were leaving the store when mom stopped as if an epiphany hit her.

"Wait here, honey," She sounded strange, "I'll be right back."

I held the plastic bags and waited by the video rack near the entrance as mom raced toward the pharmaceutical isle. A minute or so later, I saw her return and go through the express lane.

She grinned mischievously at me when she took my arm and we walked out into a beautiful winter wonderland. It wasn't lost on me that she had tucked a small bag into the pocket of her parka.

We were walking across the parking lot when a young couple stepped from a newer model Ford van. Mom and I were practically oblivious until a man's voice called out. "JP? Mrs. P?"

Only two people ever called me 'JP' and nobody but Steve Peltonen, my oldest and closest friend, called mom 'Mrs. P.'

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, shaking his hand vigorously. "Mom, look at this, it's Steve."

"I'm getting old, honey, but my eyes still work just fine. Hello, Steven."

Mom briefly hugged him and turned to the dainty woman who stood slightly behind and to the side of him. "This must be Mary."

Steve made quick introductions. "Sweetheart, this is Mrs. Patterson, JP's mom. Mrs. P., meet Mary, the love of my life. The little bundle she's holding is Samantha."

Mom put her hand on Mary's arm and leaned into her, kissing her cheek. "You have a good one here, Mary. Hang onto him. Steven is the only one of Jim's friends I truly adored. He was like one of my own when the two of them were growing up."

"Steve and Jim have told me a lot about you, Mrs. Patterson." Mary smiled warmly at mom. "If I didn't know better, I'd say Steve was in love with you the way he talks about you."

Mom blushed a bit, but I saw her smile warmly up at Steve. "Like I said, Steven is like one of my own."

Mom gooed and gushed over four month old Samantha and for a few minutes, the four of us chit-chatted about old times. Mom and I took a rain check on Mary's invite to have dinner with them on the base the following day.

"Maybe the next time I'm in town." Mom suggested, "Which should be in a couple of weeks."

Steve and Mary nodded enthusiastically, "It's a date."

As mom and I walked away, Steve called out putting his hand to the side of his face, his pinkie extended to his mouth and his thumb to his ear, "Hey JP, call me."

I waved and nodded.

Mom looked radiant as we walked through the falling snow. I told her Steve seemed to sincerely like being in the Air Force and his job as an SP.

"They've had me out at their place a few times and Steve and I have gone clubbing a couple of times since I've been here. It's kind of nice having someone from home close by."

"She seems very nice." Mom took my hand.

The falling snow in the gathering darkness made east Marquette look like a scene from a Thomas Kincade painting. Mom and I held hands as we followed our footprints back to my place.

My hovel of an apartment was warm and inviting when we stomped the snow from our boots and hung up our coats.

Mom heated up the pasties in the oven as I started a load of laundry. Regardless of what the situation was, I still needed clean underwear.

After eating, mom plugged 'Twelve Angry Men' in the VCR and we lay back on the bed to watch. It was a tossup, as far as I was concerned, who was the better actor, Henry Fonda or Jimmy Stewart. The tie wasn't going to be decided that night.

The picture didn't exactly lend itself to romance, but that was okay. Mom and I snuggled together anyway.

We watched the whole movie through to the credits, only pressing 'pause' occasionally to kiss softly and sweetly.

After the images on the screen faded, and the cassette began automatically rewinding, mom let me know what was on her mind. She smiled up at me and pulled my mouth to hers. Her lips clung to mine, her tongue sliding between my lips, her warm hand slipping beneath the tee shirt I wore.

She woke up my little buddy.

As we kissed, my hands investigated her body. Her ass, her breasts, her groin. My fingers caressed her inner thighs. Her own hands were busy exploring me.