Past And Present Ch. 01

It had been a long time since he was last here. Even now he wasn't sure why he was here, though he knew the circumstances. What place could he have in her life? He had happy memories from his childhood; why had the 2 of them been drawn together and ruined them?

It had begun years ago if he was honest. He had quite a crush on her and it became more intense as the years moved on, maybe to the point of being obsessive. Eventually it got to where orgasm escaped him unless he had a picture of her firmly fixed in his head. That wasn't a problem in the time he spent alone in his room under the duvet, but it did bother him when real young women came into his life and he couldn't even maintain an erection without thoughts of her.

Throughout his teenage years just a smile from her, or a hand on his shoulder as she passed him would have him stirring and needing to head off to his room for some private time later. Even a rough game of football or banter with mates couldn't take his mind off her and he knew he'd have no peace of mind until he reached his room and relieved himself. How many times did he do that...too many probably than was good for him!

At this moment you're probably expecting his thoughts to be of a sexy young teacher with skirts too short and blouses too far open but you'd be wrong. His thoughts were of his 40 year old mother who had long given up on short skirts and didn't have the confidence in herself to wear anything that had more than the neck button opened. What attracted him to her he'd never been able to fathom and maybe didn't want to. Could be that once he saw what it was, the spell would be broken.

It wasn't something he was particularly aware of in his early teens, it was possibly more around the age of 18. She'd started to talk to him more as an equal; his opinions suddenly seemed to matter and she asked for his help more and more with his father being away on business so much. He was never sure it was business that kept him away most weekends but he had to take his mom's word for it. He seemed different as he left the house. It has to be said he looked younger and more relaxed and smelt very different from day to day life at home. This went on for a year or two, then when he reached 20, things changed.

One evening, Friday to be precise, his mom and dad had been arguing quite fiercely. He wasn't sure what about but his dad stormed out, slamming the door behind him and mom didn't appear to prepare supper as she usually did. When she did eventually appear it was obvious she'd been crying, although she'd tried very hard to hide it with more make-up than he was used to seeing.

It made her more attractive in his eyes, but it didn't hide the puffiness and redness her crying had caused. He deliberated over speaking to her but he needn't to have worried. She spoke first as she reached into the cupboard where the vodka was kept and poured herself a large one. She'd got 2 glasses out and without asking him, had poured him one too. As she handed it to him she'd asked if he had any plans for the evening; deep down hoping he would be staying home as she craved his company. He had been debating meeting up with a few mates for a night on the pull as they so delicately put it but seeing her like this had made his mind up and he told her gently he would be keeping her company tonight.

She had already downed her drink and was pouring a second. He was a bit alarmed because he wasn't even half way down his glass and he's had a less generous amount than she. Trying to make light of it, he suggested the night was still young and maybe she should go shower and change while she was still able to stand upright in the shower. She thought for a few seconds, took a gulp of the next shot, and nodded, on the condition that he rustled up a snack for her return.

He was happy to oblige if it took her away from the booze. He didn't mind giving up his night of possible promise, but not to watch her drift into a booze-filled stupor. He loved her but a boy his age had needs. After rifling through the fridge and cupboards, he threw a few things into a pan, some meat into the oven and settled down with his glass, his thoughts straying to his mom, up there naked underneath the water. Her body would be covered in suds and he couldn't help wondering where she was soaping now.

She'd been a while now so he turned off the gases and stood at the foot at the stairs ready to shout up that supper wouldn't be too long but he realised that with the water running and the door shut, she wouldn't hear him. Instead he went up the stairs and tapped on the door, turned and was going to head back downstairs. He stopped in his tracks when she shouted for him to come on in.

He wasn't sure but she must be decent if she was asking him in so slowly he opened the door and peeped inside. She was behind the shower screen but he could still make out the outline of her body. Not enough in itself to turn him on but his imagination certainly was. He didn't hear her ask for a towel at first but he saw her hand appear outstretched so he duly passed one over to her.

She stepped out from behind the screen, towel wrapped around her, hair dripping down onto it. Gracefully she lifted one leg out, but the drink must have been taking it's toll because as she lifted the other foot she overbalanced and in her haste to steady herself, let go of the towel. There they were, face-to-face, mother and son; she totally naked, him with a growing bulge as his eyes took in the body he had never seen but fantasised so many times about.

He hadn't been far off the mark in his mind; maybe the breasts weren't as pert as his thoughts had suggested, and he hadn't allowed for the signs of the older woman on her cheeks and thighs. Even so, she was a very sexy lady and he wanted to scoop her up, carry to her room and explore every inch of her.

For her part, when she bent down to pick up her towel, she came eye level with the growing bulge in the front of his shorts. They were the clingy, lycra type and she couldn't take her eyes away. Surely that wasn't down to her? Had he been touching himself again...she knew he often did...while she was in the shower? That would be a more sensible and acceptable explanation for it. Quickly she gathered her thoughts, and the towel, and brushed past him into the bedroom, turning to him as she did and asking him to bring her drink up to her while she dried and slipped into her nightdress and robe.

By the time he came back up the stairs she'd dried and slipped into a long gown and matching robe. It was black and suited her. She was busy moisturising her face and neck and smiled into the mirror at him as he walked in. She remarked that he'd brought both glasses up and suggested if he was staying he should sit down and stop looking so awkward. He'd replenished both glasses and was starting to feel a little tipsy himself. As he watched her, he was thinking about the times he'd lain in this bed while she was out shopping and soaked up her smell. Once or twice he'd even stroked himself lying under the duvet, surrounded by said smell, clutching the nightdress he knew she kept under the pillow close to him. He had really wanted to have a pair of her panties she'd worn but felt that was taking the liberty too far.

He must have drifted off because when he opened his eyes he was lying on his back and she was sitting on the end of the bed looking at him. He returned her gaze and smiled, reaching out a hand and moving her hair out of her eyes as she used to for him. As he moved his hand away, she caught his fingers and kissed them so gently, if he hadn't been watching her he would have put it down to his imagination. She let out a sigh and whispered along the lines that if things were different, if they were different....but she didn't finish the sentence.

Before she could say anymore they'd reached towards each other and lips met lips. Tentative at first, they'd explored each other's bottom lips with their tongues, he nibbling hers very softly and causing a flutter in her stomach she hadn't felt for a long time. She replied by putting her tongue into his mouth, seeking out his with the tip. This was too much for him to bear so when he noticed the strap of her gown -- she'd already removed her robe while he was dozing - had fallen off her shoulder, he slipped his hand inside and cupped her breast.

She arched her back and let out a soft moan as he played with her nipple between thumb and finger. Would she dare suggest he take it between his lips as he had so many years ago? She didn't need to; that was his next move. Suckling on his mother's nipple, he looked up at her with eyes so full of boyish love yet with the emotions of a grown man and told her he loved her.

She loved him so much too but didn't know at this moment in time whether she was hearing the son or the man telling her he loved her. She told him she loved him too and almost added 'son' but held back. If she thought about him that way it would be so wrong and yet it felt so right. For now, he was a man tenderly sucking his lover's breast.

Her mind was trying to guide her to touch him but her hands wouldn't move at their command. When he took her hand and placed it over him, there was no such barrier. She ran her fingers over his shorts, feeling him growing all the while, wanting to feel his bare skin. Deftly she slipped her hand inside his shorts, wrapping her fingers around him. This wasn't enough, he wanted her to explore him fully so he lifted himself and removed his shorts. Her fingers moved swiftly back around him, this time cupping him too. How would he feel if she wanted to touch him with her lips?

She didn't wait to be asked this time, instead planting kisses over his stomach on her way down to allow her mouth to take over from where her hand had started. He moaned as she slid her moist lips down him, once again cupping him with her hands, gently massaging him as her lips and tongue worked their magic. Magic it was; he'd never experienced anything like this, nor had his fantasy allowed him to even go there. This was way beyond anything he'd ever dreamed off, especially from her. If she carried on in this way he was going to cum and he didn't want to not yet. He didn't want this to end but knew it was going to, and soon.

He reached out and lifted her head away from him. She looked disappointed but his eyes were smouldering and she knew why he'd done it. She had hoped he would travel and kiss her down there too but he didn't show any urge to. He was once again sucking on her nipple, harder this time, cupping the other breast and squeezing it a little roughly. Then he released her as if realising she needed something more. He ran his finger over her stomach until it reached her lips. She was quite moist and as he brought his finger back to his lips, he could smell her. He put his finger towards her for her to smell too but instead she guided him to her mouth, sucked on his finger than leant over and kissed him.

He wanted her so badly, he pulled her up towards him and she moved with her legs apart, straddling him, stopping only when his tip touched her lips. She held him there, listening to his breathing getting heavier with the anticipation of being inside her, then slowly lowered herself onto him. She was filled to her womb by her son and had never felt better. He guided her rhythm, his hands gently placed on each hip, moving her body up and down in time with his own movements. She had her eyes closed and he wished so much she would open them, look into his. He needed to know that it was him she was with, him she was thinking about.

As if reading his mind, they fluttered open and she smiled once again. Where she'd been he didn't know but she was back with him now and that was all that mattered. She was there at the right time because he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. He wanted so much to give her his sperm, to be a part of her again. At the same time, she told him she needed to cum too but could she? Would it be okay for his mom to cum for him like that. He nodded and told her he couldn't hold out much longer either but it was too late for her. As she came she cried out to her son, her baby, and let waves of pleasure wash over her.

As hers subsided his was about to start. He asked her to hold him and she bent down to put her arms around him but that wasn't the 'holding' he needed. He wanted her to hold him inside her and this she did willingly once she knew what it was he was asking her for. He felt her muscles tighten around him, holding him as he orgasmed with a force he'd never experienced before. It was almost frightening and seemed never-ending, but eventually it subsided and he wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest.

They must have fallen asleep that way because the next they knew there was a tirade of abuse coming from his father's mouth, foul words he'd never heard the likes of before. His mother told him to get dressed and he didn't need telling twice. He asked was she sure she'd be okay and headed off to his room, threw a few things in a bag and left the house.

From that day to this, 5 years had passed. He'd had no contact with his father, though he did make the occasional phone call to his mother in the early days. She told him his father had returned home to 'sort things out'. There was always politeness but there was no warmth in the voice, no mention of their time that night when he thought he was the happiest man on the planet. Eventually he gave up and with a very sad heart moved on with his life. Now his father had passed away and he was back at the place it had all started, now a young man in his twenties with some living behind him, fear in his mind and a heavy heart and yet...