A Mother's Touch Ch. 01

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Author's Note: This is a 40K word story, divided into chapters for easier read. It was initially thought as a short story that grown into a bigger work, and it's a slow burn because that's how I enjoy writing at the moment. Your comments and opinions are welcomed.

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Chapter 1 - Personal Revelations

Marge was finishing getting her makeup ready when the front door was violently closed, the echo reverberating through the mirror of her bedroom and the lipstick overflowing her thick lips. A low rumbling voice like thunder, heavy footsteps like giants, and another door being thrown without consideration in the room next door, a bed squealing under the weight of her son.

She corrected her lipstick, checked if the makeup was as flawless as her tight black dress, and put a cardigan over her shoulders after cleaning her hands and putting away her set in the middle drawer of her cabinet. One last look at her curvaceous body, and for a second, she doubted that was a good look just to go out with her friends. Her heels were waiting for her at the doorway, but she made a detour to her son's bedroom.

"Adam, can I come in?"

"Go away mom!" His voice carried so much energy that sometimes she wondered if it was wrong to feel a sting of attraction. It was like watching a movie, where the lead is a handsome young male, with a firm jaw and arms that could carry you down the aisle.

She ignored his request and threw a hand to the doorknob, opening up a fringe. "Do you want to talk?"

He was laying down, hands on his head, looking straight up, his sweatshirt lifted just enough to show his sturdy set of abs. A tear had run down both sides of his face, leaving a shining trail in its absence.

"Feet off the bed, young man," she scolded him, using her best momma voice. He looked at her, suddenly mesmerized by his mother's appearance, and his mouth remained open. "You heard me."

Adam could only murmur a "yes" and removed his trainers in a slow, fluid movement, without taking his eyes from his mother. He noticed her bare neck, the fine gold necklace around it, her breast carefully held by a seamless bra, a black dress embracing her curves. He had noticed it before, the need to let his eyes wander a little bit more, to be closed to his mother, especially after dad leaving.

Plenty of times his mother came to his mind, but never so strong, never like this.

"Mom..." but that was all he said.

She was already bending down, picking up his laundry, tidying up his mess. "I swear to you, young man, I -"

"Mom, stop!" he asked her, a velvety voice, so smooth but with a sting of darkness. "You don't have to do that."

"I'm not seeing you doing anything, am I? You're almost twenty-one, Adam."

He sat up in the bed, staring at her. "Drop that, it's fine. I'll tidy this tomorrow, mom, I promise."

"Tomorrow will be another thing. Don't you have a game tomorrow?"

He nodded. She knew it was a big game. "Is that why you tore down the door?" Marge put down the used gym equipment, and a couple of socks and underwear on a chair, and came closer to her son, sitting down on the bed as he shimmy to the side.

"It's not that. It's nothing. Sorry if I used too much force."

It was easy to see his force. Even with the sweatshirt on, his muscles didn't go unnoticed. Large bulging biceps, a broad chest, and thick thighs. He grew up to be a heartbreaker, especially with his dad's eyes, dark pools of oceans that you could drown so easily. Marge grabbed her son's hand, and caressed it, as a mother would.

"What is it?" Red lips, sweet eyes, soft words. She never seen her son crying, not in many good years, but his eyes were red instead of white, and his face was carved with guilt and rage.

"It's nothing, mom, just... it's fucking nothing."

She put a finger between his dry lips, "language," and caressed his face, his buzz cut and five o'clock shadow, feeling the hard jaw and soft skin. "Sure, it must be something. Last month, how many times you came home, banged the door, and hide your face in these pillows? Your happiness, you can't seem to find it. Something shifted, and you're suffering, Adam."

"You wouldn't understand, mom."

A tear rolled out, and Marge thought why must men be so complicated when it comes to say what breaks their souls? He leaned forward, accepting the invitation of her open arms, repeating, "it's nothing," and nestled his sadness on her chest, while she caressed him.

"It's ok. Everything's going to be ok."

She ignored her phone, vibrating on her purse, and let Adam absorbed her motherly love. An urge to cry smothered her son's voice, but he resisted it. "Jenny broke up with me, mom."

A burning sting spread through her chest, and she held him closer. How dare she, hurting the most precious thing in the world? Adam wrapped his arms around her waist, his head laid heavy on her bosom, and she couldn't avoid feeling things she didn't want to.

"I'm sorry, honey," she said, caressing his big, muscular arms. Why was she feeling that tingling fire burning inside her, that indistinct murmur in the depths of her soul? She laid one kiss on his head and let him cry.

She told her friends she reconsidered and would stay home. Her son was more important than a night out, and any possible new boyfriend. He protested, encouraging her to go, but she said she wouldn't.

"Mom, it's the first time I see you going out since you and dad, you know."

"I'll make some popcorn and we'll watch a movie, just like the old times."

He nodded. Somehow, Adam was happy that he told his mom what was going on in his heart, although the story was more complex from what it appear at surface level.

She went to change into more easy-to-use clothes around the house - a white t-shirt, black leggings, and she tied her hair up, and got to the living room where Adam was setting up the movies, and she had to stare at his strong back, and perfectly shaped ass. Those jeans were a blessing in disguise, she thought to herself.

"Ah, you changed clothes," he said, a sadness in his voice.

"Can't watch the movie in that dress," she laughed, knowing perfectly well her cheeks were giving away her mood.

Adam tried a smile, but the events from that night were still laying heavy in his heart. He went through the list of movies on the streaming service and picked an interesting thriller he thought his mom would like to see. The smell from the popcorns took him to the kitchen, and he leaned over her shoulder.

"I missed this so much."

She giggled, enjoying his presence. "You grew up so fast," she said, looking at him. "When did you become this big?"

He smiled at her, the first genuine smile in a while, "it's all you, mom. From your love."

"Don't be silly. It's all those steroids they give you in training."

Adam was used to his mom making jokes about that, and she knew he was a hard worker. It wasn't steroids, but dedication. He looked at her, and where once was a cleavage worth remembering, now there was a neck, naked, that he wanted to touch. He didn't know why, but the feeling was the same.

"Come, let's watch the movie," she said, taking one bowl of popcorn and grabbing his hand to the living room. It was like it set an electric current between the two, and Adam didn't want to let go.

The movie was fast-paced. A few scenes were more violent, and that took Marge to shield in Adam's protective arms, but it was when a love scene came along that they both went silent.

It was a scene that went on for a little too long. "Damn, they can't get enough, can they?" Marge jokingly said, her leg against her son's strong thigh.

Adam was silent. His throat had difficulty swallowing, and having his mother so close was a double-edge sword.

"Almost like a porno," Marge continued. There was something in that scene and the proximity of Adam that was making her shift uncomfortably in her seat. "Do you want more popcorn?" she asked him, making Adam turn his face to her. His cock was engorging inside his jeans, and he was sweating.

"That's a good idea. Shall we just skip this scene?"

"No skipping. Come, give me a hand, big boy."

Adam followed her, and Marge had difficulty in not staring at her son's bulge. Such a sinful proposition. Tall, beautiful, muscular, and generously gifted in the size department. If she was 20 years younger, and not his mother, she wouldn't have resisted him.

"And how are you feeling now?" she asked him, watching the popcorn popping.

"Like shit?"

"I'm sorry, honey."

His lips were a thin line, and he played with the hem of his sweatshirt, pulling it up as he'd normally do, and revealing a nice package. "Don't be sorry. It was bound to happen, anyway."

And Adam lifted his eyes, catching his mom staring directly at his body, no, at his crotch area. She immediately looked the other way, pretending she wasn't looking.

"And she gave any reason?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"I... we had issues."

"I see," Marge said, readjusting her ponytail, "Issues. All couples have issues. Adam, you're my son. And I know maybe your dad would be a better person to talk to you about your issues, but I still know a thing or two about dating."

"Mom, it's ok. I'll get over it."

"Don't play all tough with me just because of your muscles. Mister. Men need to talk too. Don't make that mistake. The things you don't say just make all worse."

The movie resumed, and they shared the popcorn. Adam placed his arm around his mother, and she enjoyed his warmth. All she could feel was muscles. His body was built like a god, a work of art. His heart was beating slow, a loud thud, reverberating in her body and, when the credits rolled, they stood motionless, neither of them wanting to break the embrace.

Then, Marge placed a hand on her son's thick thigh, "do you have the remote?" and Adam woke up from his dream. His mother had a special scent, one he was detecting right at that moment, and his memories were pleasant. He was confused about his own emotions, with having her body so close to his. She was still young, a 45-year-old woman, with large breasts and perfect lips, and for a second too long he wished she wasn't his mother, but someone he could love in a more intimate way.

"Thanks for staying at home today," he said.

"I loved the movie. It was an easy swap, you will always come first."

He leaned his head on her shoulder, and she caressed his face, noticing her body reacting more and more to his presence. She was horny. That was the word. And that was dangerous, and forbidden. She shook her head quickly, and the idea died with it, brushed away.

"It's not fair to you. You need to get back out there."

"Out there?"

"Dating, I mean. Or having fun. Sorry if I mess up your night out."

"Don't want to hear anything about it. Time to bed now. You gotta wake up early, isn't it?"

He hummed a yes. Her skin was so soft. Her scent was so strong. "I wish Jenny was kind, like you."

"Oh you silly, you need a woman that can tame you, not kind."

"What?"

And suddenly, Marge goes red in the face. "You deserve to be happy. That's all I meant."

"You didn't like her that much, did you?"

"I'm not here to choose for you, son. Whoever you chose, it's your decision. Not mine."

He grabbed her hand, looking down. "It's complicated."

"What is?"

"Life. Things in general. I want too many things that's hard to choose, you know?"

She kept her hand in his. "I don't follow, Adam. I'm sorry."

"Don't say you're sorry." He took a big breath in, his chest expanding and making Marge's groin rush with blood, her walls getting larger, needing more, begging for more. "I have an issue, mom. And it's really complicated to talk about that. Especially with you."

She nodded. "Is that issue something for a doctor to check?"

Adam shrugs. "Maybe?"

Marge kept her silence, and Adam continue. "It's hard to talk about it, mom." She sat in front of him, and her delicate hand made sure his chin was up, looking at her.

"Adam, you are the light of my life. Anything you say, I won't judge. It's ok, son, don't stress about that." The confident and muscular son of hers was now more vulnerable than ever. Hundreds of things ran through her brain, and her heart was racing. Adam's palms were sweating.

"I think it's too much pressure, you know?"

Words were said in one go, like the stress accumulated was just too much, and he needed to pour it out.

"And..." but he went silent. Marge opened her arms, and he accepted the invitation for a hug, her sweet scent entering his brain, his hands grabbing his mother's body, her ample breasts crushing against his muscular chest. "For fuck's sake, mom," he said, a crackling voice, very different from his normal powerful one, "I... I have..." and her arms squeezed him harder. Comfort. Security. And Adam's head spun. Why, why was she having this effect on him, his groin heating, his balls heavy and loaded, and his cock growing? No, this was wrong, he told himself, wrong. How can he have such a feeling about his mother? And at this moment?

"It's ok, Adam," she said, as if she could hear his thoughts. And all he could think about was Jenny, laughing at him, not even naked, but already with his load shoot all over his jeans. And Jenny pointing out she never had a boyfriend like that. All the others could, at least, make it inside her pussy.

"I... I..." he inhaled, let it all out, and brought his mouth closer to his mother's ear, brushing his lips against her neck, making his semi turn into an erection without even realizing it. "I have premature ejaculation."

He said it. After months of thinking about the problem, and enduring his girlfriend's teasing, he finally told a soul what was happening in his mind. His mother kept on holding him, "it's ok, son, you will overcome it. Breathe, slowly, calm your heart down," she said, tasting his warmness in her breasts.

"And Jenny... she made fun of it. And I feel awful."

Like a lioness, Marge wanted to destroy that fucking slut. "She shouldn't. That doesn't help at all."

As they let go from one another, Adam noticed his cock was trying to burst out of his jockstrap, too many inches to contain, changed his position and used a pillow as a small effort to hide his emotions from his mother, but Marge was no fool, she knew what an erection looked like.

But to cause that on her own son...

...disgraceful. What kind of mother was she?

"Have you looked online? There is plenty of advice. Your dad had that when we met."

Adam's eyes open wide. "Seriously?"

"Yes. Nothing to be ashamed of. Sometimes, you're just too young, like yourself, too many hormones, too much anticipation, and you can't just hold yourself."

"But mom, I'm 21. All my friends are having sex, and here I am, a fucking disgrace. Can't even penetrate because I come too fast."

Marge wanted to tell him that was way too much information, but she would not stop what she started.

"I don't know what to do!"

Marge sat upright and grabbed her son's hand. "Does that happen with masturbation?" And Adam looked at her, realizing who he was having this conversation with. In the background, a new movie had started.

"Sorry mom, I think... thank you, but maybe it's best -"

"Adam, please. Don't look at me like a mother now. You have a problem that you obviously want to talk about."

"I know, but... it's not like you're dad."

"Have you ever tell dad?"

Adam sucked a breath in. "Fuck it. Same happens masturbating. I come rather quickly."

"You watch porn?"

"Mom!"

"Oh, come on, Adam. That's a yes."

And Marge grabbed her phone and looked it up. "Maybe, they suggest, cut off some porn. There is the start and stop technique."

"What's that?"

"You make a few pauses."

"I don't even get to start. That's the fucking problem."

She looked at him. "Hum. It's mentioned can be stress related."

"It's just so fucked up. I want to make love to her, you know, but as soon as I take... it out... it's complicated."

And Marge tried not to think about her son's penis. "Ok."

"How did you and dad overcome it?"

And Marge went red in the face. "Maybe you're right. It's best to find a professional to guide you through."

"Oh, come on, who's chicken out now? I want to know. Don't think of me as your son."

Marge stood up, and brought the popcorn bowls to the kitchen, and then held onto the counter thinking about what was going on. Why was she talking about this with her son? And why was she feeling this unexplained attraction?

"Mom?"

"Sorry," she turned around to see that tower of muscles looking down at her. He stretched his arms, placing his hands behind his head. Her eyes followed down his treasure trail from his lift sweatshirt down to his bulge, that she could perceive beneath his thick jean's fabric.

"So, how did you two did it? How did dad overcome this issue? I'd do anything to know."

"It's hard to explain. It would happen just like you said. We were kissing, making out, you know? He would have his hands all over my breasts," and Marge suddenly stopped, looking at Adam, her cheeks red like fire. "Well, you know, young couple things, anyway, and when we were about to, you know, he just couldn't hold."

"Mom. Don't be ashamed. I'm opening my heart for you. You told me there is hope. Last time, I was kissing her and as soon as her hand grabbed my cock," and he grabbed his junk over his jeans, "that was it, I just came."

"And then she laughed?"

"Yes."

"Well, I never laughed. What I did, because I wanted that... christ, this is getting really awkward to talk about," she said, getting a bottle of wine from the cooler and pouring herself a glass. She smacked her lips, letting the alcohol warm her blood. "That's better."

"You can't just stop mid-sentence," Adam said, inhaling the aroma of the dark red wine, and dreaming about those big velvety lips.

"I figure it out that I wanted to know what your dad felt like, so I just started ignoring he had came, and encouraging to go for a second round."

"For real?"

"Oh yes. Worked like a charm. If he wasn't that hard, nothing like a mouth to get down to business." With each word, Marge felt her cheeks getting a darker shade of red, matching the liquid flowing down her throat.

"Oh wow. That's such a great idea. I'm sure if Jenny was like that, I could... we could... I wouldn't be a virgin, you know?" And with each word, Adam felt his body react to the possibilities.

And Marge placed one hand on Adam's chest, "and it's ok, son. That does not define you." The way Adam winced his face made her think he thought differently. "And I'm sure you'll find someone that is worth your time."

He put both hands in his pockets, visibly touching his bulge, as a young male would, without even thinking to be in front of his own mother. "I... uh, it's difficult, you know? All I think now is, what if this happens with another partner? And I'm meant to be this confident guy. Everyone thinks I'm the best and, after all, I'm not."

"But you don't know that. This is only a setback. Here," she showed him her phone, with an article about premature ejaculation, "the squeeze and pause technique too."

"Ah... so, you squeeze the head?" And he was looking over her shoulder, their bodies close together. He places one hand on her shoulder, with her back turned to him, and motionless, she made contact with his brawny chest and, most worryingly, with the volume between his legs.

"Yes. See, you can try this on your own time, so when you feel you're about to, you know, to..."

"To come?"

"Yes. Sorry, feels strange saying that."

"You're safe with me. Say it."

"Say what?"

"Don't feel embarrassed." Adam was enjoying this little interaction, his blood flowing faster to his groin, a motherly scent sneaking into his nostrils, and his mother so close, talking about his penis and his orgasms. "Say when I'm about to come."