Hanukkah Miracle

Aaron Babshinsky sat in his bedroom and looked out the window, staring across the sky. It was only about 6 in the evening, and it was already dark out. And snowing. He didn't fancy having to dig his car out of the snow tomorrow morning before going over to the community college.

"Aaron honey," he heard his mother calling from downstairs, "Aren't you going to come downstairs to light the menorah?"

It was the first night of Hanukkah, an eight night long holiday that reminded him that his was the only Jewish family in town. They weren't especially conservative mind you, just abstaining from pork, going to Temple on the Shabbat, and of course, celebrating Hanukkah (and Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Pesach).

But this year it was different. Aaron's father had run off on them, marrying his secretary and moving half-way across the country. He left Aaron and his mother to fend for themselves. The wounds were still fresh, but Aaron soldiered on as best he could, taking on some of his father's responsibilities.

Aaron sat up from his bed, reached over and put on his yarmulke. He then went downstairs by the front window to join his mother. She was already there, wearing a nice looking black dress.

She wasn't crying, but Aaron knew that she was still hurting inside. It had been over ten months since his father walked out - almost a year! - and yet she still hadn't gotten over the bastard.

Aaron didn't say anything, of course. He simply looked over and his mother and smiled, then picked up the electric torch.

"I suppose I should do the honors," he said.

He utter a prayer in Hebrew as best he could from memory. Aaron surprised himself with how much he actually remembered. He then lit the torch and brought it over to the first waxen candle, and then began to sing Ma'or Tzur. His mother began to join in.

Afterward, Aaron recited some more prayers and then looked over at his mother again. He still didn't understand how his father could just walk out on her! Sure, she was in her forties, but she looked better than many women half her age. Her hair, not cut short and stylish, was a beautiful shade of jet black. It went wonderful with her olive colored skin. She had put on a little weight, but it almost all had gone to her breast and ass, giving her a nice curvy figure.

Suddenly, his mother began to cry. Aaron went over to comfort her.

"Mama," he said, "What's wrong?"

She struggled to hold back her tears.

"It's nothing dear," she said calming down a little, "It's just... when you said the prayers there... it was so much like..."

"My father," Aaron asked, finishing his mother's sentence for her.

She didn't respond. She was too busy crying. All she could do was simply nod, but Aaron hardly needed any confirmation on her part. Ever since he was little, his family had always told him how much he was like his father. Now that the bastard had run away, that only made Aaron hate himself. In fact, he could feel himself clenching his fist at the very thought.

"Mom," Aaron said, his hear full of compassion, "You shouldn't put yourself through this for an asshole like dad."

His mother tried to hold back her tears, but without much success. Aaron went to hug her.

"You're too good for a little piece of shit like him," he whispered as they embraced one another, "You're still gorgeous. You could find someone else... someone who would actually love and respect you."

His mother gradually stopped sobbing.

"That's so sweet of you honey," she said, "Do you... you really think so? But who would want a... a middle aged woman like me?"

What happened next would change the entire course of the night, indeed, it would permanently change the very nature of their relationship as mother and son.

As if compelled by some unseen force, Aaron leaned forward and kissed his mother on the lips. His tongue went into her mouth, mixing with her own hot, sticky saliva in an embrace far too passionate for relatives to ever have. Taken a back by this turn of events, she fought him at first but eventually conceded, returning his passion with her own.

And then, as if he realized what he had done, Aaron broke off.

"Lot's of guys would," he whispered to his mother, "I would!"

Having said that, he kissed her once again, his tongue snaking even deeper into his mother's mouth. His own mother! God, a psychologist would probably have a field day with that! But at the moment, Aaron didn't care about that. He was too caught up in the passion that enveloped them both.

Slowly, he ran his arm down across his mother's back, stopping to tightly grab her big, curvy ass. The move elicited a soft moan of pleasure from his mother, she he kept it up. Soon her hands were moving all over his body. He felt her go towards his chest and slowly start unbuttoning his shirt.

Soon it was off, leaving the twenty year old bare chested and still making out with his sexy middle aged mom. Slowly he slid his hand back down over her back, looking for any sort of zipper to that black dress she was wearing. It took him a while, but eventually he found it, and slid that dress off of her. Much to his frustration, his mother was wearing a bra - a lacey black thing that went along with her outfit - but it wasn't long before that too came off, leaving her huge olive-toned breasts exposed. Her big dark nipples were already perky from the excitement of her taboo escapade.

"You look absolutely gorgeous," he said as he admired his mother in all of her naked, middle aged glory.

It almost made her blush a little.

"Maybe we should go over to the couch to finish this," Aaron said, motioning his mother towards the couch.

"But... but sweety," she said, "The windows are open! What if someone sees us? What would the neighbors think of all this?"

Underneath the still flickering candle light of the menorah, Aaron Babshinsky took his mother on the couch that magical Hanukkah night. She spread her full thighs, letting her own son come between her legs. The very thought of doing this act - one of the greatest taboos anyone could commit, Jew or Gentile - made her wet. Aaron fingering her, savoring his mother's sticky juices before he dropped his pants. He was rock hard, and it excited his mother to see the tiny drop of precum dripping from the tip of his cock. He lined it up with his mother's cunt, pressing a little before plunging his virile young manhood deep into the inner mysteries of his own mother's womanhood.

Aaron's mother moaned as she rocked back and forth on her couch, getting thoroughly fucked by her own flesh and blood. Aaron lovingly ran his fingers through her short, jet black hair. They were both covered in sticky sheen of sweat as they kept up their passionate love making, Aaron softly squeezing on her full middle aged breasts while he rammed in and out of her. It was a beautiful sight, but it wasn't much longer before Aaron finally shot his first load up into his mother's womb. For a brief moment, he hugged her, somewhat aroused by the slim possibility that he might have gotten her pregnant.

"Wow," said his mother as she tried to catch her breath after their vigorous love making, "That was... so wonderful sweety. I haven't done anything like that since your father was still here..."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence and she almost regretted saying it. The two sat on the couch, still embraced not as mother and son, but as lovers, the flickering light of the single candle in the menorah casting their long shadows across the room. But then, both of them realized that they no longer needed Aaron's father in the picture. They had both moved on, found a strange sort of equilibrium, and now Aaron had taken over his father's role. It may not have been "normal," but it didn't matter, because they felt a deeper bond than any other lovers ever could.

"It's a Hanukkah miracle," Aaron finally said, his seed still dripping out from between his own mother's thighs.

His mother chuckled.

"And just think," she said, "We've still got seven more nights to give each other presents."