A Brief Romance Ch. 03

[The following story is fictional, and all characters are of legal age.]

I woke up alone again in my mother's bed, sleeping quite soundly after she manually brought me to a climax. The dried semen was evident on my boxers and shorts, and I wondered how my mom cleaned up her hand: my heart skipped a beat at the thought that, after I quickly went to sleep, she may have brought her hand to her lips to lick her fingers clean.

With a new pair of shorts on, I walked into the kitchen, where I found my mother eating cereal and dressed for work.

"I'm so sorry about last night," I told her before she even had a chance to wish me good morning.

She smiled, finished her bite of cereal, got up and put her hands on my shoulders.

"You have nothing to apologize for, sweetie. You're a young man with physical needs, and I just helped you out a little."

Relieved, I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer, my body already stirring in my shorts.

"That. Was. Wonderful, Momma. Thank you."

"You're welcome!" she replied, as she pulled my head down for a quick but passionate French kiss. "Now let's get ready for the day."

-----

The changes in our relationship hardly distracted me from schoolwork, not least compared to the frequent agony of an unrequited infatuation. When my mind started drifting to my mother's lips and hips and breasts, I just reminded myself to calm down, remembering that I was hers and she was mine -- and that I only had a couple more weeks until graduation.

An academic overachiever who turned 18 at the beginning of the year, I excelled at juggling the many subjects and assignments at school even now, while I realized how much I was learning at home. My mother had taught me how to kiss like a lover, and I wanted to learn so much more, but she didn't want our relationship to affect my schoolwork, so I usually kept working diligently.

Today was different. I barely paid attention as I kept thinking about what I would ask my mom that night, what I hoped she would teach me.

I could hardly sleep, laying down with my early bedtime and waiting to see the hall lights turn off as my mother headed to bed. The lights flickered off, and I almost leaped out of bed and ran through the hallway.

"I hate to bother you," I said, standing in my mother's bedroom doorway, "but can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

"Of course," she said, and I quickly crawled into what had become my side of the bed.

For some reason, I expected her to turn off the last, soft light on her nightstand before taking off the heavy cotton robe. Instead she unzipped with the light still on, and with her standing by the light in her silky and nearly sheer nightgown, I got a glimpse of her nearly nude body -- her breasts, still surprisingly firm for her age; the tiny tummy that all her exercise could never quite remove; her shapely thighs...

She laid down and turned off the light, rolling into me so I could hold her tightly.

"I love you, Momma," I said before kissing her just below her earlobe.

"I love you, too," she replied. "Good night."

"Wait," I suddenly whispered, gently squeezing her body. "About last night..."

"You want me to do that again?" she asked, as even in the dark I could tell she was grinning.

"No!" I said, quickly adding, "I mean, not tonight. I, um, want to do to you what you did to me."

"What?"

"You said I have needs, and I do, but I'm sure you have needs, too, and I want you to show me, um, how to touch you like that."

She turned her body toward me, enough that we were face to face in the dark.

"You're a very sweet boy," she said, kissing me gently.

"I'm not a boy anymore," I replied.

"You're certainly not, but you'll always be my little boy even as you've become such a thoughtful young man. Now let me teach you how to touch me."

She settled on her back and lifted her hips as she pulled her thin nightgown up to her stomach. I scooted closer to her, laying my head against hers and draping my arm across her midsection to pull her closer.

"So what do I do?" I asked.

"Just explore, very gently, and I'll give you instructions when you need them."

My hand cupped her breast as my forefinger traced where the soft but firm flesh met her abdomen. I squeezed and moved my hand up, letting my finger trace her nipple as it responded to my touch and quickly became erect.

"Can I start here?"

"Oh, yes," she sighed, "and take your time."

I did just that, but I slowly made my way to the bare skin of her stomach, spreading my hand to feel her slim waist.

Then, almost holding my breath, I let my hand explore forbidden territory. My hand reached her pelvis and the topmost edge of her silky bikini underwear. Moving further down, I felt the bush of her pubic hair through her panties.

My finger traced the edge of her panties along her inner thigh, feeling a few stray hairs, and then my entire hand covered her panties where her womanhood lay beneath. I was surprised by contours where I had imagined something like a perfectly featureless crotch, but I was more surprised by the warmth -- the heat of my mother responding to her son.

I pulled my hand up slightly to slip it into her panties, running my fingers ever so delicately through her bush. She squirmed, telling me that it tickled.

"I know," I replied with a grin, and then my fingers moved to her pussy, tracing the folds of her skin first in attentive detail and then in broader, circular strokes.

It was then that my mother grabbed my hand, guiding my middle finger to rub up and down her slit.

"Do you feel that I'm getting wet? Keep rubbing, and you'll start to go in. When you feel the opening, push your finger in."

I did as my mom instructed, amazed by every new sensation: the labial folds opening in response to my finger, the slick wetness beneath, and the hole that received my middle finger.

The rest of my hand spread wide, and I realized that my fourth finger wasn't on smooth skin. Instinctively and silently I pressed my finger against my mother's asshole, and she responded with nothing but a low moan.

"You feel that bump inside me, toward the front of my body? That's my G-spot. Gently apply pressure and start moving your finger in and out, and you'll trigger an orgasm deep within me."

I did exactly that, while my other finger continued to put pressure on the anus, to my mother's implicit, silent approval. It didn't take long for the apparent orgasm, when my mother's pussy began repeatedly contracting around my finger and was almost sucking on the fingertip.

I was amazed by how my mother's body responded to me, to the point of finding the act to be, in its own way, sexually satisfying for me as well.

"That's good, sweetie. Now gently pull out, and use the same finger to find my clitoris at the top of my pussy -- there it is, you got it. Now rub it, quickly, firmly, and I'll come again."

I did as she asked, doing my best to trigger my mother's second orgasm. She started moaning, she spread her legs a bit more, and her hips began to buck.

After a few moments, her whole body shivered and her breathing became erratic.

"Yes, yes, you did it, good boy," she whispered breathlessly.

"I like making you feel good, Momma."

"I like it too, thank you."

And with my hand still in her panties, held close by the elastic band and spread over her warm and now sopping wet pussy, I exhaled and began to drift off to sleep.