Heaven's Below

He cleared his throat, "That's, um, good. I mean, not that it would bother me either way."

My son was clearly a worse actor than I was an actress, "Glad to hear it," I told him, totally unsure what the hell I meant by that, "But getting back to the real world and on a totally different subject, what time do you have to be out tomorrow morning?"

He shrugged, "I don't have to be out by any particular time. I said I'd meet Tom sometime but we were going to go online at home before we meet up anyway."

"Playing silly games on your thingy-box?"

"X, and yeah. Why do you ask?"

"The builders will be here around nine to look at your ceiling and there's a chance I'll need to go into the office first thing, so if you're going to be around that would help me a ton."

Nathan gave another of his trademark shrugs, "Sure, no probs, mum. I, um, guess... well.."

"What?"

"I was just going to say that it's probably fair anyway. I mean if you're sure you don't mind me stealing some bed space for another night?"

"I'm sure," I assured him, managing to control my features, "But I think I'll pop a sleeping pill tonight to make sure I sleep through until the alarm. It could be a busy day."

"Oh, um, yeah, well whatever. I'll, er, try to be as quiet as possible."

The tension was becoming unbearable and I closed my laptop, heading for the door, "Shouldn't matter with those pills, but it's appreciated anyway." I just hoped he didn't see how much I was starting to tremble on my way out.

It was another three hours before it was time for bed -- a mutually agreed time between Nathan and me, based on tiredness levels, the expected times we had to be up the next morning, and how long it would be before fatigue overcame nervousness and embarrassment at what might happen next -- mutually exclusive sentiments as far as we both knew.

When the time finally rolled around we were full of that false bonhomie that is normally only found at the worst kinds of business meeting, or when saying thank you to ageing relatives, face to face, for those wonderful hand-knitted birthday presents that are just so perfectly crafted that you wonder how you've managed without a three-armed cardigan for so long. In that shade of brown.

By some form of mental mind-meld agreement that would have embarrassed Spock with it's efficiency, we managed to time final trips to the bathroom to change into our nightwear, followed by dives under the covers, so that somehow, we never saw each other before our heads were both on our pillows. Not easy, but a relief when achieved with such aplomb.

I have no idea to this day exactly what Nathan was thinking as I shut off the bedside lamp, but I was fairly certain he must be able to hear the mad whirl of my thoughts. Or maybe, my heart hammering away at my ribs. Somehow I managed to mutter something about the 'pill kicking in', yawned a few times, and forced my breathing pattern to settle into a gentle, deep rhythm. I drew the line at faking a couple of snores, though. Give me some credit...

I knew that Nathan wouldn't be bold enough to try anything too quickly, whether my sleeping pill act was Oscar-worthy or not, but at the same time knew that I wouldn't fall asleep too easily. I lay there thinking.

Right and wrong, and truths and lies -- these were completely different arguments, different subjects. Whether I was doing a right thing or a wrong thing, I was at least doing something that was truthful to myself rather than trying to justify a lie by avoiding these new feelings. I had no idea what (or rather how) I was going to be feeling come morning, or indeed, whether anything would happen to trigger any feelings at all, but the knowledge that I could just be blowing things out of all proportion and that nothing at all might happen, simply didn't calm me. Back to truth and lies, and I realised that the plain truth was that I wanted something to happen. Equally true was that I had no idea exactly what I wanted to happen, just that I didn't want anything too... extreme. I wondered how I would ever manage to deal with the disappointment if nothing happened at all... and that was the last thought I recall before sleep took me.

Déjà vu, or possibly déjà touché... I awoke just as I had in the early hours of the morning before, weak pre-dawn light filtering into the room. Just like twenty-four hours earlier I sensed Nathan close behind me, facing the same way as me, his hand once more upon my upper arm. I was even managing to keep my breathing nice and even.

That impression of a perfect replay of the previous day's events was lost as Nathan shuffled closer to me, his already tumescent excitement making it's hungry presence felt against my bum. A soft, whispered 'mum?', couple with a soft tightening of his hand on my arm cleared my mind of any confusion. My boy was trying to make sure that I was fully under the influence of the sleeping pill that I had supposedly taken a few hours earlier. Keeping my breathing deep and even after that realisation was even harder, but I evidently managed well enough -- or Nathan was simply too desperate to notice any change in my demeanour -- because, evidently too eager to check any more thoroughly, he pressed even tighter against me.

Even though my boy was wearing boxers and my t-shirt nightie came down to mid-thigh, I swear I could feel the veins in his erection as it rested hard and hot against me. One of my doubts evaporated, and when Nathan's hand moved from my upper arm and on to the side of my breast, the rest turned to vapour as well. Nathan, my boy, my son, was holding me, excited and aroused as only a man can be, and my body and mind were in ecstasy.

For what seemed like an eternity, Nathan never moved a muscle, just a deep pulse within his erect member letting me know that he was present in body and mind. Then his hand slipped further around my chest, cupping my breast with a gentleness that almost brought a moan from my lips. My nipples were both hard and erect -- had been ever since I awoke -- and my son's palm covered one with a firm heat that felt like no touch I had ever experienced.

The sensation of fondling my breast brought more animation to my boy. His hips moved gently, his erection softly but rhythmically pressing firmer into the flesh of my butt. I was in heaven, knowing that my body was pleasing my son so much, that he was enjoying this taboo exploration to the point of rapture. When his hand left my breast, the moment's disappointment was almost immediately replaced with a surge of new excitement as the fingers settled on my thigh and started to inch higher, taking the hem of my t-shirt with them.

Within a few joyous seconds, one half of the bottom of my makeshift nightie slipped up and over the mound of my butt, Nathan rocking his hips away from me just long enough to free the garment. I could now feel his hardness through his boxers, directly against my bare flesh and my body reacted without my control, pressing back firmly, invitingly.

Nathan froze, and I somehow had the presence of mind to snort softly, willing him to believe that I was in the midst of a dream, before settling myself more firmly against my pillow. Once more, either he was satisfied with the veracity of my performance, or he was simply too desperate to care too much, because he left me to settle for only a few seconds before the grip of his hand on my now naked hip became a little firmer as he pressed himself more tightly to me.

When the hand left my flesh again, I was less quick to feel disappointment, instead feeling a kind of 'what now?' hope and excitement. He rocked away from me once more and I felt a rustle of material close behind me, sending a flash of excitement right to the core of me. When he rolled back against me, I realised that he hadn't pushed his boxers down very far. But far enough that the top couple of inches of his penis were free. As his hot, hard flesh touched the softness of my butt, Nathan stifled a groan -- unwittingly as I did the same.

My son's movements become less restrained, less careful. His hand quickly slid back under my t-shirt, resting first at my hip where he used it to brace me as he pressed his half-naked erection against me, and then letting it slide higher, along my side, my ribs, the fingers beating a soft, fluttering tattoo against my skin.

The whole scene was making me feel dumb with the shock of extreme desire, but I was still smart enough to realise that he was seeking my breast once more, this time under my nightie. And I wanted that touch.

Nathan's shaking fingers reached the underside of my breast, and as they stretched to cup me I felt the first shudder pulse through him. This time he didn't manage to stifle a desperate whimper, and he squeezed my breast hurriedly, yet still gently, before his hand snaked back down past my hips, grabbing for his boxers. He was rolling away from me before I realised it -- more déjà vu -- and out of my bed and my room before I could do anything too damned stupid for words. This time, though, I didn't leave myself unsatisfied, my hand sliding down to the sopping wet, hot centre of me, fingers penetrating my sex in a second, a few short caresses enough to send a delicious, dirty-minded, delightful orgasm through me. I was even fast enough to appear completely asleep before Nathan crept back into bed.

The next day was no less full of wild thoughts as the previous one, but with me needing to go into the office, I was far less preoccupied. Besides, when Nathan called me -- a tad sheepishly -- to say that the builders wouldn't be able to start on his ceiling and the roof for another couple of days, decisions and demurrals were set aside. I had no idea whether Nathan bribed the builders to say that, and it didn't and doesn't matter to me. By the time I left work I was content in the knowledge that my doubts had been cleared, and that I couldn't lie to myself about how much I had enjoyed my part in the naughtiness of the previous night. And that a third night of joy was likely.

I would tell you how the evening passed in a blur of embarrassed evasions and the avoidance of eye contact, but in truth Nathan went off to a local bar where some guitar band were getting paid to practice second-rate covers. Actually they might have been rather good, but they delayed my preparations, so I wasn't feeling that charitable towards them.

I was still awake and sitting in the kitchen when my boy got back at eleven (as I would have been at midnight, one in the morning, or just about any hour, come to that), and all I can truly recall about the half hour before we turned in was that I made a probably over-exaggerated play of 'taking my pill' (never has an M&M been so well-treated), and that neither of us were very relaxed. My body, however, evidently knew what was good for us all, and against every conceivable likelihood, it fell asleep within a few minutes of settling into bed.

My body also managed to reduce the early build-up of sexual tension for me as well, not allowing me to wake until Nathan had evidently been getting into the spirit of things for a few minutes.

My makeshift nightie was already lifted to a point where one of my butt cheeks was bared, my boy's fingers caressing my hip, but his own boxers were still keeping his super-heated erection covered. Somehow it all still felt like a surprise to wake like that, and I carefully made sure I was still apparently sleeping as far as my boy was concerned. To judge by the firmness of some of his movements, I was fairly sure that he had tried to make sure the 'pill' was working well already, and it was purely by chance -- or subconscious good fortune -- that I had been genuinely deeply asleep.

As Nathan's fingers slid smoothly along my ribs and came to rest against the soft flesh of the underside of my bare breast, I travelled from soft, waking excitement to the deepest, wildest arousal that I had ever felt in a fraction of a second. After resting there for just a second or two, those fingers moved higher, my breast falling into the welcoming cup her made of his hand, my tingling, sparking nipple pressing against his hot palm.

Tonight there was clearly more control in his movements and the vague man-odour that wafted from his hot body spoke of earlier preparations. My heart skipped a couple of beats as I realised that he had taken steps to ensure that he would be able to control himself better tonight, and a tiny little spark of undirected fear added a frisson of something altogether darker to the already scintillating excitement that coruscated through me. To double-check my theory, I let out a soft snuffle as I had the previous night, and Nathan paused rather than froze as he had before -- a sure indication that his faith in pharmacology was more secure. Indeed, as soon as I had settled deeper into my pillow, his hand attended to his boxers, freeing even more of his erect member this night.

As its heat settled against my bare butt, I became aware of just how close that erection was to my sex -- inches -- and felt another surge of excitement and another flash of that dark fear. I doubted he would take matters that far, and was sure that I would find a way out of the situation if he did. In any case, there was plenty more to come before anything like that needed serious consideration, and as if to prove the point, my boy's hand slid back to my breast.

Unlike the previous nights, he allowed himself the luxury -- for both of us -- of rocking his hips harder, pleasuring himself openly against my bare butt even as his hand explored the one of my breasts that he could feel easily. For my part, I had been pleasured before on numerous occasions, but no one had ever induced such ecstasy as my boy was doing, even though his actions were, relatively, tame. When he shifted back a fraction and his hand attempted to move me further onto my back rather than side, I offered no resistance at all.

As my shoulders settled against the mattress, I became very aware of the fact that my nightie was now settled around my waist -- and that with nothing underneath it, my pussy was bare. The sudden cessation of movement -- breathing from Nathan let me know that there was sufficient pre-dawn light for him to see a little in the bedroom. My son had bared my pussy and was staring at it... I let loose a little moan of pure pleasure, quickly turning it into a deep dream mutter, snuggling my head into the pillow.

I could handle it, I told myself, I was in control still, there was plenty of- Nathan's fingers trembled a little as they touched my belly. They trembled more as they slid oh so slowly lower. As his index finger met the top of my wet, hot lips, my legs parted a little in desperate response. Nathan paused for a fraction, but desire overrode every care, overrode caution. His finger slid along my wetness, finding the soft, welcoming centre of me. The tip of it parted me. It slid inside. Above me, I heard his soft gasp, and then, so gently, "Oh, mum, I'm so bad, but you're just so beautiful!"

It wasn't intended for my ears, I'm sure, but any man who uttered words to me that dripped with so much love and care and desire... any man who said something so beautiful would have won my heart. And my mind. And my body.

I opened my eyes and lifted a hand, placing it on top of the one he was using to stroke my moist centre. My son flinched, but I held him there.

"Nathan? I love you, you know?"

"Mum! I'm so-"

I held his hand tighter as he made to pull away once more, "Do you really think I'm so beautiful?"

"I just-"

"Do you? Really?"

His jaw was open, his eyes wide. He swallowed, "Yes. Yes, you are. I couldn't help but-"

"Thank you. And you must take after me you know?"

"What?"

"Nathan, you're a beautiful young man. Forget everything else about us and... can we... just share those feelings?"

"Mum... I don't understand."

I blinked slowly, "Let's just say we're two people -- two beautiful people if you insist -- and we love what we see. Let's just be those people and enjoy. Everything."

There was a moment's pause before he nodded. My son is not just a wonderful looking young man, he's as smart as they come. He nodded again, "Okay. If you're-"

"Shush. I am. Now can you please get this silly t-shirt off me because it's damned uncomfortable bunched up underneath me like this?"

He gave another nod and moved his hand from my groin, leaving a sense of loss adding the promise of so much joy to follow. I sat up and he pulled the makeshift nightie free of me, baring my breasts to his eager gaze. When I pointed at his boxers he finally smiled, scrambling out of them to sit naked beside me.

I returned the smile and lifted a hand to his erection, sighing as I wrapped my hand around its heat and solidity. "If," I said, a moment's uncertainty washing through me, "I said that I wanted this, would that shock or offend you?" I was rewarded with an even broader smile. "Shock, sure, but only because I didn't think I was that lucky."

"Oh, you're gonna have a happy life if you keep that sort of smooth talk up. And talking about keeping things up..."

In a trance, Nathan moved across, his knees slipping between mine, his weight hovering directly over me as I guided his hot, hard erection lower. There was a pause -- seconds or centuries -- as the head of his glorious cock rested against my sex. We stared deep into each others' eyes. I flexed my hips and the tip of that gorgeous young cock slipped easily between my lips. I'm not sure who gasped the loudest at that point, but I'm damned sure it was me as my boy started to slide deeper inside me.

We fitted together so well right from that first moment. Moved together so well, also. Within seconds, my boy, my Nathan, was making love to me like a familiar lover. The feel of his hard young cock thrilled me, thrilled my pussy, thrilled my soul, and my arousal level soared. There was no tiny spark of fear, no thought of anything except the mutual pleasure we were giving and receiving. There was no sense of anything falling short of want or need or expectation, even when Nathan climaxed suddenly and copiously, prompting a hard, fast orgasm from me.

We held each other tightly, knowing without saying a word that there would be many more times. None better, maybe, but many more. We weren't wrong.