A Mother's Touch Ch. 03-05

But he kept his hand there.

Marge knew what he was doing, and she looked the other way. To the question "don't you need a man in your life," her answer would be "maybe," but it would never be "I already have a man in my life, and that man is you," like Adam would like to hear for some reason she couldn't fully grasp. That she dreamed about him, that was easy to understand, wasn't it? His body was a work of art, a young muscular god, dedicated to sports, an adonis made mortal. Now, why would he look at her? An old hag, that was it, the perfect name, as she watched her face in the reflex of the glass panel in front of her.

But his hand was making her feel things she hadn't felt in a long while. And then he adjusted his hand up, and she shivered. "Maybe that's high enough, Adam," and he purred. He felt his erection trying to burst from its underwear prison, but he stood his ground as he was parking the car in the garage. As he stood out of the car, he tried to conceal his erection as best as he could, but there was only so much he could do.

Adam let her go first, falling behind just enough not to look too desperate, but the way his mother was moving was tempting to him. He could already feel the precum soaking up his briefs again, like a curse. He once thought it could be a superpower, but now he realized how super powers can be daunting on its own accord.

Marge turned on the speaker, and connected her phone to it, playing a slow tune, and there, in the dim lights of the entrance, she danced.

For Adam, was a magnetic attraction. Something he must be pulled into, inescapable. He watched her move her body with slow movements, her legs dragging her shoes sensually, undulating, enticing, calling him to her. She wasn't, was she? But he would never know if he didn't step in. His jacket was still over her shoulders, that blue dress moving so sensually in front of his eyes, his cock throbbing.

No, it was all wrong. Didn't he hear all his life how forbidden it was to want your mother in this way? But Adam told himself, what is wrong with dancing with her? Nothing more innocent than that.

It would be innocent if his cock wasn't in the way.

He offered his hand, and she took it, accommodating him into her dance, hands moving into his body, wanting the moment to last.

"I missed dancing with someone," and with her head against his chest, they moved in circles, enjoying the smooth voice of the singer and the magical notes they were embraced with.

Without shame, Adam pressed onto her body - he wanted her to know how he felt for her, all these weeks, non-stop thinking about her. "I missed dancing with you," he told her in confidence.

How far is too far? And how do you get back? That was what Marge asked herself as she touched her son's erection with her body, and then she ignored it. They were just dancing, and young men like him can't really control their reactions. She would be the bigger person, and move forward, enjoying a wonderful moment, a special bounding. His arms were so swollen, and his chest so comfortable, that she could detect his slow heartbeat, so confident, yet so destroyed. She wouldn't let any woman break his confidence again.

His hands grabbed her gently, wrapping her in a tight embrace, one he didn't want to let go of. Her skin was so delicious that he dared to touch it with his lips. He drew an invisible line on her neck and put a lock of hair behind her ear, uncovering her sweet secrets. Marge allowed him, as she found protection in his strength, and so did she let her hands wander where she wanted them, caressing his large biceps, and solid pecs.

"You ok?" He asked her again, reading from her emotions.

"Is this right?" she asked, placing a small hand against a large bulging muscle over his t-shirt.

"I think it is. We're just dancing," he said, and still, his cock throbbed against her body.

"It's more than just dancing."

But this time, Adam placed a finger on her lips, and smiled at her, gently opening her mouth with it. "We're just dancing. Just let me have this moment with you."

Her mouth opened and for a second, it was like she was going to take his finger inside, but she kissed it instead, returning her head to his chest, where Adam placed a hand over, kissing her hair one more time. He wanted so much to take all his clothes off and make love to her, but he knew this was as much as he was going to get before breaking all the illusion.

"It feels so right to have you here, mom," he told her one more time, and she could taste his voice coming from his lungs, strong and powerful, and the way his cock was still throbbing against her leg was making her panties soaking in desire. All the red flags were gone, and now she was in his hands, and if he wanted, she was his.

And that was the scary part. The moment where she could never return from. The moment where she lost her son, and that was something she wouldn't let happen.

But, instead of pushing him away, she pulled him towards her lust, pressing against his urging erection, and gasping at feeling its magnitude. He let her feel him, even with his body, wanting her hands and mouth around it, but not daring to make such a bold request.

He drew another line from her chest to her mouth, and leaned down, kissing her neck, as Marge leaned her head on the other side. Her hands were exploring her son's body, and she wanted to know what it was like to touch his abs, to trace that sensuality and masculinity, and gasped as she pulled the hem of his t-shirt and touched his hard skin.

There was a shiver on his part. A moment of electric shock. "Mom," he gasped, but she didn't stop, and let her hands touch him, attempting to grab his immensity, but unable to touch each other on his back. All he could feel was her breasts smashing against his chest, and making him feel like never before, a thrill of testosterone that could render him blind with lust. It took all his strength not to rip her dress and fuck her until there was nothing left of the two of them.

His lips pressed harder against her chest, and his hands wanted to taste her skin, lifting her dress, feeling her heat, his cock leaking, and getting near to the point of no return, Adam cursing his life, why was he so easily triggered?

And he pulled her head back, looked into her eyes, and kissed her.

A kiss like no other.

She was shy at the start, but as soon as his tongue tried to enter her, she opened up, grabbing his head and pushing him to her. He lifted her up in his arms, light as a feather, her wet cunt grinding against his hard prick, and the emotion soon became too much.

He never thought his mother would be such a passionate kisser, but he walked backwards falling onto the couch, and she kept on top of him, a long, hard kiss, with his hands lifting her dress up, caressing her naked back, and then, he shivered. He was too close now.

"Don't stop," he begged, not caring about anything in this world, watching his mom riding him through his jeans, her breasts heavy on his chest, and her lips glued to his.

And he growled inside her mouth, a long loud lustful moment of pure sensuality. His mother was shivering on top of him, her mouth open, and screaming, her groin grinding violently against his enormous bulge, and a flood happened in his jeans, her wet panties leaving their mark, but his massive load going everywhere.

She collapsed on top of him, panting, and Adam didn't dare to move.

"What have we done?" her voice was cracked, guilty, nervous. "What have I done, oh my god, oh Adam," she said, getting off from him, "I am so sorry, it must have been the -"

"It's ok mom. I wanted it too."

"What do you mean? You don't want this. I don't want this, what are you talking about? Oh my gosh, why?"

She went to the kitchen, returning with paper towels, "go clean yourself. Adam, this... this never happened. This can't happen."

"Hey, don't do this to me. I -"

"You don't know what you're talking about. Enough, I need to wake up early tomorrow." And she left the living room in quick steps, locking her bedroom door, and sliding down the door, crying.

Sometimes the things you want the most are the ones that break your heart.

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Chapter 5 - In Your Arms

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Marge still shivered when she thought about her actions the night before. As the days went by, she avoided her son as much as she could, his hard cock throbbing under her weight, still imprinted in her being. Why, god, why was this such a torture to live without?

But when Adam lost yet another game, she knew something had to give. She couldn't leave him alone during what must be the worse time of his life. She waited in the dark for him to return home, in the living room couch, torturing herself with the blame of making it all worse. If it wasn't for her nagging at the start, she would never know about his problem, and she would never walk into his room, and she would never... it was such a sequence of events.

Tonight, it would be just the two of them. No wine, no excuses. A serious conversation, to clarify whatever that was the other night. She was determined to keep things between them as a mother and a son would, and that was sacred. Oh, but she was languid to be held in his arms again, to feel his erection succumbing to her body, to make him want her. And why, her son, the hardest curse of them all? Maybe a glass of wine will help to settle her nerves, she thought, opening a bottle, and cursing doing so.

As it stood, she also seconded guess her clothing options, the white and red polka dot skirt with the blouse she adored, adding heels to the mixture - she was sure she wanted the attention of her son again, she needed to feel wanted, for someone to grab her and say "you are mine."

Was she just being lazy? Going to the easiest thing around?

But the door opened, and a tired Adam entered her house. The scent of candles greeted him, that Marge had lit in the living room, as she was feeling nervous in the surrounding darkness.

"Mother? Is that you?" he asked, but she told him not to turn on the lights. His eyes feasted on her legs, long and beautiful, and that blouse she got on was delightful. "It's nice to see you," he said, dropping his gym bag on the floor. "What's this all about?"

"I think we need to talk."

Adam gave his abs a long rub, making his mother look at him, and smiled. "Talk? I want more than talking, mom. I want what we had that other night."

"That's exactly why we need to talk. Come, sit with me."

"I don't want to sit down. Don't you see? You're denying yourself, again. Living for another, for whatever people want you to think."

"That's not fair. I thought this would be easier. Don't go," but Adam already left the living room, going up the stairs three by three. Marge stayed staring at him until he was gone. Back in her living room, she sank into the couch, thinking where did she go wrong.

She waited. But he didn't come downstairs. She turned the TV on and fell asleep watching a movie, glass in hand. It was probably two in the morning when Adam found her.

"I was a fucking brute, wasn't I?" he muttered as he turned off the television, but before, he gave his mother a long look. She was beautiful, her long legs, the heels were enough to turn him on. Marge had such fire in her, why... no, it wasn't fair for her to have her own son mutilating her happiness. She needed to go out, meet a man that treated her good, and forget all about what they did. It was the least he could do to her.

But why would he? She wanted this; she wanted the same as he did, and he was determined to show his mother exactly that - the more they fought their feelings, the more distraught they'll be.

He placed his arms underneath her body, careful not to wake her up, and took her up the stairs, laying her on the bed. He thought if he should help her change into her nightgown, but that would be one step too far. Just taking off her heels was a struggle to keep his composure.

Still, he waited, hard cock in his shorts, for her to open her eyes. She did as he covered her, and she grabbed his hand. "Adam?"

"It's me mom."

"What happened? Why am I dressed in bed?" A sudden fear passed through her eyes, "did we -"

"No, mom. You fell asleep, that's all. Sorry if I was rude to you."

She sat on the bed, and looked at him - her big boy, nude except for shorts that did nothing to hide his erection. "You weren't. But this is exactly the reason we can't have anything between us."

"Didn't you feel a connection when we kissed?" he asked, desperate for a meaning. She nodded, but remained silent, taking off the bedcovers and instead using the dim moonlight to remove her blouse, keeping only her bra. "What are you doing?" he asked, trembling lips and cracking voice.

"I'm changing. Can't sleep in this, can I?"

"But I'm here," he said, trying to comprehend.

"I know you are. I just don't care, too tired, son. I wanted to tell you how thin the walls between decency and judgment were, and how easy it is to fall from that precipice."

Adam remained with his mouth open without saying a word, as she removed her bra, staying naked from the waist up in front of him. Large breasts, with large nipples that he always dreamed about, were so real and just right in front of him. He could reach with his hand and grabbed one of them if he wanted. Marge looked at her son's leaking cock, so big that the head of the monster was slipping through the leg, a thick string of precum falling on the floor beneath him, and she sighed.

"If we give into this, Adam, there is no turning back. You lose a mother, and I lose a son. Is this what we want? To have such a terrible secret we can tell no one about? To live with this burden for the rest of our lives?"

He nodded. All his brain could think about was to open his mouth and return to his mother's breasts.

"I need you to say something, Adam. You are right, I want this more than I can deny it, but... what if I'm wrong?"

It was like Adam woke up by hearing his name. "Mom, listen, I... You're right. I..." Adam lowered his eyes, unable to think while his mother's breasts were in plain sight, "Sophie asked me for a second shot, you know? She told me she thinks we can work it out together."

Marge was taken aback. "So, why are you here with me?"

"Because I want you. I think only you can help me."

"No, this is even worse than I thought. You are a young man and a woman your age is interested in helping you out of this situation. I say, take it."

"What if she only wants me to make fun of me? Like Jenny?"

"Not all women are like Jenny. You need to be brave."

He lifted his eyes again, mesmerized by Marge. His cock was flowing down his shorts, and his heart beating stronger than never. "Mom, what if you have the key to my happiness? I've tried everything, and nothing works." He stood up, and walked over to her. "What if we can be happy together?"

Adam's shorts fell to the hardwood floor beneath him, and his cock sprung up with the energy to conquer the world. Big arms pulled Marge to him, and she gasped with his touch.

"We can't, Adam."

But the more she pushed him away, the more her fire grew. How many years since she fell in the arms of a man that desired her? She was thirsty for that water, needing that fire to consume her again, but she was still reluctant to allow it to be her son to finally make her complete.

"No Adam, I won't do this to you," but his body was drawing near, his muscles a wall of pleasure against her tender breasts, his warmth transferring back to her, giving back to Marge all she took from herself to make him grow and shine as a man.

"I shouldn't have told you about Sophie."

"No, you shouldn't," she said, inhaling his scent of sin, hands clutching on his chest, head resting against his body of Adonis, closing her eyes and feeling him pressuring against her, naked as god intended.

And Adam closed his eyes, caressing her hair, and tasting her breasts against his chest, dreaming this dream would continue forever. She protected him, even now, with her aura of love and affection. His cock, harder than life, was now leaking profusely against her soft velvet skin.

They stood motionless under the outside moonlight, covered in the darkness of their secrets, wishing life would be easier. Marge couldn't believe how in this short while they went from whatever they had before to this, whatever this could be.

"What happened with Sophie?" she asked, breaking the silence, unable to let go.

"Nothing much, the usual. She gave me a massage and as soon as she got into my thighs I was hard, and then I was cumming as soon as she touched me there."

"No!"

"Yes, but let's not talk about that. I'm enjoying us."

Marge kept her eyes closed, sliding down her body, feeling her son throbbing in her naked tummy. His hands were playing on her polka skirt, and his breathing was getting heavier. And then, he leans down on her neck, lips brushing softly, and a kiss, laid so carefully and making Marge tremble from head to feet.

"What are we doing, Adam?" she said, arms fighting against her son's body but being defeated immediately as she missed him already. "What am I doing?" she whispered softly, kissing his chest, wanting his lips back on her neck, nails digging into his skin.

"Stop resisting," he said, kissing her neck again. "You want this too. I can taste it in your skin."

She threw her head to the side, burning her face in his hard muscles, as he took over, intense kisses with promises of paradise, a cinnamon scent to it, making her cunt drip with anticipation, her panties getting soaked as his cock drenched her green polka skirt in a honey thick fluid of desire.

"I can't," she protested, but pushing him to her, contradicting her words, begging for more. "Don't..." she said, open lips tasting his sweet sweat, inhaling his maleness, he could absorb her and not even notice it.

And Adam revealed the man in him. A man who knew how to press all the right buttons, how to let her fall into his trap of sex and sin, how to make her happy again.

But the price for happiness is, sometimes, high enough, but often overlooked. Marge was the highest of her life, feeling desired, loved, wanted once again. The image of her ex-husband was there, and with another kiss of her son, it vanished, not mattering anymore. She let his fingers explore her soft breasts, hanging heavy and supported by his firm muscles, a paradise, a dark paradise of all the emotions, all held onto her heart and ready to explode and color the world in her lips.

She bit his chest as he kissed her harder, hands pulling her against his hard cock, making him growl. He was close; he knew that, his curse, his demon taking over again, but he couldn't stop anymore. He wanted her, and wanted to show his mom how beautiful she was.

"Fuck," he mouthed, as her teeth dug hard into his flesh, grabbing with both hands and thrusting against her. "Oh, fuck," and she could taste his precum flowing like a river, soaking her skirt, and with both tiny hands, she grabbed his jaw, eyes connecting, and pulled him for a kiss.

"I shouldn't," she said, pulling her son to the deepest kiss of his life.

And as their tongues intertwine inside her mouth, with her breasts crushing his chest, Adam's heart couldn't take anymore: the young man moaned in her mouth, wanting to crush her under his brute force, a need to breed and fuck like no other. He wished he could be a beast, taking whatever he wanted, a savage bashing through a settlement, fucking all the women without even thinking about it, something made of animal parts without a conscience that could justify his behavior.

But, as their lips fused into one, so did his cock could not resist this motherly appeal, and Marge knew. She lowered his head as he was between her breasts, and his cock was shooting, her son trembling in her embrace, and her skirt now soaking up the generous gift from his masculinity. He gasped for air, returning to her bosom, sucking on her tits like she wanted, his cock draining the energy from his soul right against her still fertile body.