A Mother's Touch Ch. 06-08 & Final

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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 6 - Twenty-Six Seconds

Adam woke up to an empty bed and an empty house. And a hard cock.

The polka skirt was lying on the floor, and his first instinct was to ring his mother, while using the skirt to soak up his first morning load. She didn't pick up, but the presence was still there with him. Her large breasts, the way she rubbed on his cock to make herself cum, all of that couldn't be forgotten.

He made her dinner, intending to surprise her that night, but what he got was a sullen face, and barely any intention to interact.

"Mom, what's wrong?" he asked her, watching as she sat down on the couch, exhausted.

"What do you think? Everything is wrong, Adam," she said, closing her eyes and opening up her jacket. "Got a terrible day at work, and can't stop thinking it was because of what we've done yesterday."

He sat next to her, looking for reassurance. "We did nothing wrong, don't say that." Adam took her hand in his, looking straight into her eyes. "I love you, mom."

A beginning of a smile rose on her lips. "Silly boy, I love you too, but let's promise each other our love stays as innocent as it should."

"Promise," he said, smiling back at her.

She inhaled deeply. "What's this smell? Have you been cooking?"

He nodded. In a strange fluidity, Adam went to the kitchen, and brought her a glass of red, full, and helped her out of the jacket. Then, positioning at her feet, he removed her high heels with delicacy. "Just relax. I want you to have something good out of this day."

And she let his hands massage her tired feet, welcoming his strong fingers. A fire spread all the way up her legs, and she let her eyes remain close, as she pictured him again, in the night's darkness, hard cock delivering her a heart shattering orgasm. There was nothing of innocent in that massage, at least, for her, because when Marge opened up her eyes again, her son was the purest form of them all.

Marge would pray at night for her sins, but little could that do to the corruption of her soul. She encouraged Adam to seek other girls, like Sophie, but he was keeping to himself. Sophie decided he was too much of an effort, and now was dating someone else, and, in Adam's words, someone who could hold his loads for more than one minute.

And the day of the last match came, and the four of them celebrated the victory: Natasha and Tony included. They went out for a delightful meal, and while the mothers drank red, the sons drank soda. The emotions were all there, with Tony looking languidly to Marge, and Adam did the same to Natasha, although his leg was rubbing against his mother's.

Marge noticed this, but said nothing. As they walked out of the restaurant, Tony took Marge under his arm, and for a second, Adam went blind.

"What are you doing?" he seemed to ask with his closed fists, but the sudden arm around his waist, from Natasha, confused him.

"You grew up to be such a healthy man," Natasha said, while walking side by side with Adam, "and not an ounce of fat."

He let a laugh come out, "if you squeeze it hard, I'm sure you get some."

"Is it?" she said, winking back at Marge, "Tony has more to grab."

Tony protested back, and the camaraderie continued, with Natasha keeping her hands around Adam's strong abs, her hands moving down.

"Go on Natasha, don't be afraid. There's plenty to grab." He said this looking at Tony, and detecting the same level of jealously in his eyes. They stood facing the ocean, and the chilly breeze that came with the sound of the crashing waves, each man with a woman by their side, comparing, competing. What he failed to see was the jealousy in his mother's eyes.

"You good?" Tony asked him, and Adam nodded. And then, they switched sides, their bulges denoting something growing, but Adam was relieved when he had his arms around his mother.

"Just relieved this season is over, you know?"

Both men stared into the emptiness of the ocean waves sinking into the darkness ahead, the boats on the horizon flashing their lights, his mother's hair caressing his soul. He imagined what if this could be the future? No shame, no regrets, just a mother and his son, a different love? But, at the same time, he could imagine her saying exactly the opposite of that.

Adam had tried everything. He knew he shouldn't, but how could he avoid it? The massages, such a simple way to get sex to happen. All the pornos he saw made it sound so easy. But his mother never budged, never tempted by the long bulge in his sweatpants. He didn't use underwear anymore to corrupt her to his side, to make her see his feelings for her.

As they arrived home that night, he took the coat off her shoulders, in a delicate procedure, hanging it, and turning back to her, observing her curves. She sat down on the couch, looking at him as a proud mother would. Adam smiled back at her, and put the music on, a soft jazz she could dance too if she wanted to, and took off his jacket, and sweatshirt, leaving only a yellow t-shirt glued to his abs, showing off his biceps.

He wanted to remove his trousers as well, but knew his mother would run away if he did, but the thin jeans left nothing to the imagination. He knew there was a visible print of the contours of his cock because she looked straight at it, before he knelt to her feet, helping her get rid of her shoes, and wrapping her tired feet into his healing hands.

"What's in your head, mother?" he asked, noticing her stockings, black and see through, his cock reacting already, like a fire starting after a lightning.

"Nothing, honey, just tired. You don't have to do this every time," she said.

He nodded, caressing her calves, and kissing her knee. "I know, but I want to give you something back."

Marge let a sigh go, and shivered, with his lips on her knee. He never done this before, and his hands seem to grasp her flesh with more intensity.

"How are things with Sophie?" she asked, as his hands traveled all the way north, landing on her thighs. His sweet eyes looked at her, with a different fire, the same fire she met the other night in her bedroom, where both of them got lost in desire.

"Mom, you know very well there's no Sophie. There's no one out there for me."

"Hush now, honey," she replied immediately. "You know that's not true." Marge brushed her hand over his face, while his fingers stayed for too long on her legs, her panties reflecting the need for him, although her brain could not cope with the thought.

"I know I have you, mother, but no one else. Not with this problem."

As promised, Marge took some time off work, and they headed for hills, for a nice little mountain retreat they owned. A two bedroom wooden house, filled with some modern luxury, that shared the shores of a lake with some other traditional houses that popped like mushrooms on the landscape. The weather was changing, but the forecast was still for some sunny days with warm temperatures, reason enough to bring her bathing suit.

She opened the windows as Adam carried the bags inside, and she noticed he placed his things in the same room as hers. The reasoning was Natasha and Tony would arrive only the next day.

"But Adam, I won't be sleeping with you."

"What? You're not sleeping with Tony!" he said, snapping at her. He seemed a different person suddenly. Marge took a deep breath, and her flowery dress danced with the breeze coming through the open door.

"Adam, you don't get to have a say who I sleep with, but no, I'm not sleeping with Tony." The freedom she felt as soon as she got to this place where Marge and her son had so many memories was quickly gone, and instead, it was like being chained. "Natasha and I will share this bed, and you and Tony take the other room. I thought that was clear."

And Adam sucked a breath in, and stormed off outside, where the shore of the lake licked the land and where the blue and green mixed together.

Marge let a few minutes pass, and then walked outside. She knew where he was, a little rock formation where Adam used to hide as a kid. He was there, and she crawled inside, wrapping her arm around him. "What happened back there?" she asked, sensing the frustration in her son's veins flowing like poison.

"I'm just like him, ain't I?" he said, his voice dangerously low.

"Your father?" He hummed a yes, and she leaned on him. "You're so much better than him, Adam."

"But I'm trying to control you. I'm fucking jealous, jealous that Tony can be with you, that -"

"Enough about Tony. I wouldn't let him get near me, you know that."

"But at the beach -"

"Adam, you know me better than that. We came here to relax, forget about those problems back home, to have a nice mother and son time."

"So, why are they coming? I'd rather be alone with you."

He picked up a rock and threw it, hitting a tree nearby and scaring a couple of birds. Marge shuffled uncomfortably. "They are coming because I need friends in my life. I need Natasha. But I need you too. It's difficult, but you will overcome these things. You will be with a nice woman your age, and learn together."

Adam let a loud sigh fill the space and wrapped his arm around his mother. They stood up and went for a walk near the shore, the waves gently licking the land. "Why haven't you seen a doctor about it yet?" she enquired, standing on the pier and sitting down. Adam sat next to her after removing his trainers, dipping his feet in the water below.

"I did."

Marge gasped. "You didn't tell me."

"It's embarrassing enough, mom."

She threw some water with her foot, mindless looking into the depths of that shade of blue. "More embarrassing than talking to your mother about it?"

He hummed. "Dr Costas was nice, but he did nothing about it. Self help, he told me, start with that."

"And you have," she added.

"He doesn't want to give any drugs yet. Said I was very young, and that Jenny didn't help, might be a distress, and even mentioned seeing a shrink."

The mother let him talk till the end and stayed silent after he finished. She enjoyed being there with Adam, where the calmness of the lake was superior to anything the city could provide. And her brain was finally at ease. She could see clearly now.

"Seems he did something after all, Adam. Don't be unfair. You need guidance to navigate this problem."

"But you've seen how I am, mother. You saw how fast you made me come that day, like it or not, but I won't forget that."

She shrug. "That day was different. We were both drunk." He leaned on her shoulder. "What would your coach do to make you deal with a situation?"

"Coach Steve? He'd probably make me run twenty laps first, and whipping me each time I complain about it."

"Shall I get a whip? Your progress was impressive under his wing."

Adam smiled. "You know that man, always writing down my times, making me push myself, but at the end of the day you know what matter? To know I was important to him, not only as a player, but as a person."

They walked home talking about coach Steve's methods. The dinner would be something simple, and this time, no wine, as per Marge's request. "We'll have plenty of it with Natasha, I'm sure."

As she cooked, he went to shower, returning to the kitchen just in time. And just like when they came here together as a family, Adam was pretty casual, wearing his shorts and a t-shirt, but, unlike the old times, he was three times larger than before, and Marge couldn't help but to stare at his proportions.

"So, how's Sophie?" she finally asked him. "You didn't tell me about Dr. Costas, so I assume you didn't tell me about her as well."

He put the food in his mouth and took a long time to get back to her. A painful look. "I told Sophie that what Jenny said was true."

"That's very brave, son."

"Or very stupid." He drank some water to push down the food. "She said it was ok. She said it was all fine. I told her I wanted to take things slow, you know?"

Marge didn't want to know more, but she didn't say anything. Somehow, she already knew he was coming from a place of hurt.

"And then, we took things as slow as two horny teens can do it, mom. We were making out, getting super intimate, you know," he said, looking at her, and she nodded, "and Sophie gets on top of me, she has such nice boobs, pulled her shirt up, god I was crazy for her mom."

"Maybe you don't need to detail it so much, I get the picture."

"Fine, fine, but just to give context."

"I got all the context I need, son," Marge said, noticing him adjusting his length underneath the table.

A strange smile appeared on her son's face as he continued telling his story. "I flip her down, pull her leggings down, and am such a nice guy, mom. My tongue was hurting by the time she begged me to stop, you know, I loved it. If nothing else, I'd die happy if I could do that every day of my life. I don't care about my pleasure, the way she was happy, oh boy, fucking great."

Marge didn't know what to say or how to react. The sudden burst of intimacy her son was confiding in her wasn't in any textbook. Sexual education was one thing, but this, "this is maybe a conversation you want to have with Tony?" she dared suggesting.

"Oh, he knows alright."

"He knows about your intimate moment with another woman?"

"I'm getting to the point I wanted to make." Marge apologized for interrupting, allowing him to carry on. "And then Sophie told me to stand up. She wanted to give me something in return, I was, you know, in a state already. I didn't come yet, but by that point I had leaked considerably, and was a bit of a mess down there. But she insisted, oh, let me see it, I'm not like Jenny. And I let her, you know, open up my jeans. She took it out, kneeling in front of me, her breasts hanging free. I guess it was all a little too much because as soon as her mouth kissed the tip, that was it for me. I was trying so hard, mom, but bang, a load all over her face."

"Was she ok with that?"

"Not really. She called me a pervert, and all the names, it went to her hair, she was furious, blaming me for not warning her."

"Didn't you?"

"I tried? But she filmed the whole thing. That's the issue here."

"She did what?"

Marge had her eyes red by the time Adam told her. What sort of women was Adam surrounding himself with? Could it be her son was a different person around them, henceforth the need to punish him somehow?

She put the dishes away, not saying a word, making Adam to come behind her, hands on her shoulders, "hey, was it something I said?"

The mother turned to him, smashing a tear with her wrist. "Adam, what sort of things are you pushing yourself into? Why would Jenny and now Sophie do this to you? Have you hurt them?"

Adam took one step back, bewildered. "You're not suggesting -"

"I'm just asking. This seems so uncalled for, Adam."

He walked backwards until reaching the table behind him, supporting his body as he leaned against it. "I... I didn't create this, if that's what you're asking. The filming part was Sophie's idea, but I agreed to it."

"But why expose yourself?" She could only think about her son coming on the other girl's face, exploding, just like he did with her. But somehow, a strange feeling was building up in her. A pressure on her chest, a sort of continuous crushing - could it be hate? It was the sort of feeling she got when she find out Adam's dad was cheating on her.

"Mom, I needed it. I needed Sophie, and she told me she loved me, she wanted me. The video was just for us to remember when we were old."

Jealous. She was fucking jealous. Somehow, an anger descended upon her, and the temperature was just too much to handle, and she wanted to punch something. Someone. Sophie and Jenny came to mind.

"But - oh Adam, it's true for men, thinking with your... genitals, isn't it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

But her anger was coming in waves, and she had no clue how to contain it.

"How could you be so naïve? Now you have a video of you. You could have snapped the phone from her, no?"

"Don't call me naïve. I... I know I was fucking stupid, but why shouldn't I trust her? Are you telling me all women are like that? Are you like that too?"

His veins were pulsating all over his muscles. Beetroot red. His mother had clearly painted the picture of his own ignorance.

"So what's she's gonna do with the video?"

"Just forget it. I don't know why I told you this. Why do I tell you anything?" and he prepared to storm off, but Marge grabbed his arm, soft fingers around his thick flesh.

"You'll find a woman that loves you for what you are."

He looked back at her, and his stomach flipped upside down. She wanted to say something, but he grabbed her, and his kiss came flying in. He pushed her against the wall, his body taking over them both, and Marge let him consume her anger.

"I want you," he mumbled between kisses, her nails pulling the fabric of his clothes, his cock pressing hard against her. He had the strength to dominate her, and the power to conquer. Like an army, he tore down her walls, his tongue masterfully remembering Marge of what she missed all these years of abstinence.

He pulled her dress, hands on her tits, and slid down on her body, kneeling in front of the woman he wanted more than anything in the world, her passion so fucking evident none of them could deny it.

He kissed her belly as he went down and inhaled her scent of desire and lust. "You're so beautiful," he said, drinking from her moans. Trembling fingers slid down her panties, and he said a prayer before kissing her.

The trimmed bush, the pink center, the impossible wetness of his mother. He didn't look up. He didn't see her eyes closed, or her lips murmuring enchantments of love. But he didn't need to because he knew this was right.

A long kiss made her shiver, his obedient tongue made her cry.

He did what made Sophie come, and what he learned from the pornos and talking with Tony. And he did much more, learning from his mother. The woman he adored was finally receiving something back from him, his love finding new ways to be told, new ways to bond.

He watched as she braced herself on the kitchen counters, legs open, Adam in the middle, her legs shaking, her mouth open, her screams a melody capable of creating new life.

As Marge opened her eyes, she could not deny anymore. There was no point now. He helped her to sit down, keeping his erection contained in his shorts. What Marge wanted to say was "what have we done," but she was past that now.

"Not a word about this to Tony, understand?"

"Never."

She adjusted her dress, the warmness visible in her body. "I was needing it," she whispered, loud enough that he could hear her, and a smile dawn across his face. Adam thought to himself, if he died now, he died an accomplished man.

He heard the shower, and sank on the couch as he imagined being there with her, making love. He knew she was the key to his problem.

"Natasha said they will be here in the afternoon," she shouted from the bathroom. As she was exiting it, he showed up, big arms holding onto the doorway, and a shiver ran through her body.

"Means we have the entire morning to ourselves."

"Don't go thinking about that, love. We can't repeat what happened."

"I disagree," the boy said, grabbing her body wrapped around a fluffy towel, "come on, I saw how happy I made you."

She welcomed his hard body, but as an eel escaped between his fingers, losing part of the towel was doing so and exposing her breasts, trying to clumsily cover them back. "Adam, stop, I'm your mother."