The Sketchbook

"You know I would never want to bad mouth Dad, but I'll never understand why he never paid more attention to such a beautiful, sexy woman like you, Mom," he said.

"Please son," I said, trying to discourage him. As much as I enjoyed his words, at the moment I didn't really have the nerve to continue.

"I'm sorry," Steven replied. "But you really are beautiful."

It wasn't so much what Steven said as how he said it that left a tension in the room so heavy that I was left speechless. His bright, brown eyes, his warm smile, all of him communicated to me with unspoken promises of his warmth, longing, and desire. Steven took in his arms and held me close, my head against his chest.

"Sorry, Mom, but I love you so much," he said, "I guess I always have." I looked up into my son's caring eyes, wanting to tell him the same thing but lacking the courage. He kissed me on the cheek to try and increase the intimacy of the moment, and I could tell he was trying to gauge me for a signal, anything that might tell him it was OK to take our relationship further.

"I love you too, Steven," I managed to blurt out. Whether it was the lack of certainty in my voice or his nerve failing him, Steven took my response as a rebuff and pulled away. He appeared clearly disappointed, and within moments managed to quickly excuse himself for the night.

I went back to my room to get ready for bed but I couldn't sleep. I was angry with myself. I hated what I done to Steven, and moreover I hated myself for having been such a coward. In a fit of rage that consumed my sensibility I decided to come completely clean and pay for my sins all in one stoke. I didn't know what the future held, nor did I know how Steven would react, but I knocked on Steven's bedroom door, making sure to be back safely in my room before he got to his door. And on the floor, in front of Steven's door, I left my private sketchbook.

Back in my room, I sat up on my bed with my hands folded on my knees. Once in a while, my eyes would look at my clock, noticing how much time had passed. Five minutes... ten minutes... the more time that passed, the more I felt consumed with feelings of horror. What if I had somehow been misreading Steven all this time? If that were true, I had irrevocably harmed my relationship with my son in a blind moment of thoughtlessness. I wasn't sure if I had the mettle to ever face him again.

There was a faint knock at my door, followed by another a minute later, but I was too scared to answer. The door to my room opened, and there, in the faint moonlight, I saw my son standing there with the sketchbook in his hands.

Steven came over and set it on the nightstand next to the bed, then sat on the bed next to me and put his arm around my shoulder. At first it felt like an act of trying to calm or relax me rather than a sexual advance, but something told me the time was finally right to let go the last of my inhibitions. Besides, now that Steven had seen the sketchbook there was no sense in trying to hide my feelings for him any longer. And with that, I put my hand gently on Steven's cheek and gently pulled his head towards mine. We were so close I could feel his hot breath on me now. Slowly I moved even closer until my lips lightly brushed back and forth against his.

"Mom I..." he managed to stammer.

"It's OK Steven," I replied, "everything is OK now." Covering his lips fully with mine, we settled slow, steamy kiss. And everything really was OK for me at this point. Whatever force of nature that had caused my son and I to feel this way about each other had brought us to where we were now, and I knew that the only choice I could live with was to journey this river of our passion we were traveling and see where it took us. I'd come a long way emotionally since that fateful day of catching my son on the way to the shower. I may have merely desired him sexually at first, but now I knew I wanted him as a lover too.

I pulled excitedly at my son's shirt, exposing his strong chest and arms and he responded with one of his sexy, boyish smiles. I climbed onto Steven and straddled his thighs, and then he reciprocated my earlier actions by pulling off my nightdress so that I was only clad in my panties. I then leaned forward and he took one of my already excited nipples into his mouth, sucking on it hard.

"Oh Steven, yes, yes!" I cried. I had said the words in my mind a thousand times before but now I said them aloud for both of us to hear. It was the first time in ages I had spoken such words of desire in my bedroom, but after the long years of loneliness that came with a passionless marriage saying them now felt wonderful. My young lover continued his skillful ministrations on my breasts, making me moan loudly in approval and quiver in delight.

I managed to move enough so that I could unzip Steven's pants and get my hand in. A jolt of arousal passed through me when I encircled Steven's exposed cock with my fingers, and the whole bed gave a savage vibration as his hips instinctively lunged forward to meet my hand. I stroked his cock hard and fast as he continued feasting on my breasts with his lips and tongue. Now the room filled with both sounds of both a male and a female moaning. I knew Steven was close, but I didn't care. If anything, it made me increase the intensity of my handjob.

"Oh, god yeah," Steven groaned, his chest flexing hard as he came. His thick semen covered my fingers with its stickiness and slowly ran then them to his black-haired groin. Steven had to rest for a bit until his strength returned, and I took the opportunity to remove what remained of our clothing. Steven still lay on his back when I stood up to take off my panties. When he saw me completely naked for the first time he smiled like a kid in a candy store and said, "I've wanted you for so long. This like a dream come true."

I smiled back and lay on top of him, our hot flesh now molding into one, and began kissing him forcefully on the lips as our hands eagerly explored each other's bodies for the first time. In a strange way, I felt like I had caressed Steven's nude body many times before as my pencil had lustfully traced every inch of him onto countless sheets of paper, but of course nothing compared to the real thing. And right now I could think of nothing that I wanted more in the world I than to feel the real thing deep inside me.

I rose onto my haunches and, hovering over Steven's loins like a woman possessed by lust, sank onto his manhood, screaming as I felt it fill me with its hardness. And in this position I made love to him, slowly and seductively at first, wildly and enthusiastically as my climax approached. The bed shook beneath me and the mattress springs signaled the sounds of our lust as my young lover's hands caressed me all over to increase my pleasure. Finally, the moment that I had waited over a year to share with Steven had arrived.

"I'm cumming baby!" I screamed loudly, bucking so hard on Steven's cock that I nearly lost balance. Steven held me in place as I shook from the excitement, and began pistoning into me hard from below as I rode out one hell of an orgasm. I needed some time to recover so I lay next to Steven with my head on his shoulder. His cock was still at full mast, and I gently stroked it for him. Doing so was starting to get me excited again, and I knew it wouldn't be long before I was ready for more.

With deftness that certainly demonstrated experience, Steven rolled us both into the missionary position in one smooth motion. He was rubbing his hard cock on my excited slit, driving me once again into a frenzy of lust.

"Put it in Steven," I moaned. "Fuck me good." I had never been the type to talk dirty before, but the exhilaration of casting off my earlier inhibitions now made me want to act wilder than usual. Steven began rocking back and forth into me, fucking me with an enthusiasm that only a horny, virile stud can produce.

"Oh yes, Steven yes," I cried, practically delirious now, "your cock feels so good!" I didn't think it was possible, but my encouragement somehow spurred Steven to fuck even harder. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself determined to show him that even an older woman was capable of matching his energy in the bedroom when she was properly motivated. Grinding my hips hard back and forth into Steven, I matched his fierce thrusting stroke for stroke, my lust giving me the stamina to keep up with him.

Our copulation became heated and intense, and for the first time in my life I experienced what some might call the "making of beautiful music" of lovemaking that only a male and female in perfect unison can produce. Steven groaned that he was cumming, and that was enough to send me to my crescendo with him. The force of our orgasms traveled through each of us like a wave of ecstacy, flowing from one lover and into the other, and we clutched each other tightly as it passed, savoring the experience of being joined together both in body and in soul.

"I love you so much," Steven said, looking tenderly into my eyes, and I repeated the words back to him, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. I smiled at my son, and for the first time I was no longer afraid of what future lay before us. There was no doubt of the openness in the declaration of our love, no doubt that we could speak to each other not only as a mother and son who loved each other but also as a man and a woman who were in love. I knew that our love for each other hadn't died by what we had done - it had grown. We spent the rest of the night joyously consummating that love, and by morning I felt like a new woman, ready for whatever challenges the world laid before her.

When I woke up the next morning Steven was already up and taking a shower. On the nightstand I noticed my sketchbook and, picking it up, sat in bed and began lazily flipping though the pages. I was the first time I'd looked though it in quite some time, as even last night I had left the book in front of Steven's door without opening it.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed, "I gave him the wrong one." I flipped through the pages, looking at the harmless drawings of trees and so forth in utter disbelief. I had stopped hiding the secret sketchbook after my husband left, keeping it with the identical one I had bought the same day. And in my frazzled state from the night before, I had accidentally given Steven the wrong book.

"Oh well," I chuckled, "I guess we have even more to talk about then I realized."