A New Life

It had been a lonely couple of years since my husband walked out on me for his co-worker. That bastard claimed the world would never be the same since the pandemic interrupted our lives. He stated that he only had one life to live, and he wanted to fulfil all his dreams, goals, and fantasies. Our son and I just were not part of his future. Looking back, I guess I may have had some suspicions of his cheating, but I believe I ignored them because I just didn't care.

At the time of this story, it had been nearly a year since my divorce was finalized. I was fortunate enough to find a work-from-home job during the pandemic. I will never be rich, but I did earn enough to take care of myself and help my son when his part-time job just wasn't enough.

"Bruh," the fully developed voice said, as my son entered the kitchen.

"Braxton," I said as a sarcastic warning to my son as he poured orange juice into a glass. "What did I tell you about calling me, Bruh?" I asked with a hint of annoyance in my early Monday morning voice.

"Would you rather me call you, Lori?" he fired back.

I could see the smirk grow into a full-grown smile as he momentarily turned toward me. My son graduated from high school a few months earlier. He had grown into a handsome six foot-two tall man. As he sipped his drink, I couldn't help but notice that the years on the swim team and the hard work in the gym had paid off. He was by no means one of those guys who spent six hours a day in the gym with the goals of being a bodybuilder. Braxton had a slim, but chiseled physique.

"How about Mom?" I asked. "Or I'll even settle for Ma at this point." Secretly, I wish he would call me, Mommy, as he did when he was my little boy. "What plans do you have this weekend?" I asked, just trying to get my son to have a conversation with me. It's no secret that Braxton and I hadn't been very close since his father left. A fifteen-year-old boy needed his father. I did the best I could over the previous three years, but I know I wasn't what a young man needed.

He wiped a fresh waterdrop from his chest with an index finger. I watched another droplet fall from freshly showered dark hair as he turned toward the sink. I watched as his muscles flexed nonchalantly as he reached for the faucet.

"Well," he began as he rinsed his glass in the sink. Amanda and I are going out Friday night to celebrate our one year together." Braxton slipped his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts as if he was readjusting the elastic. "I made reservations at Julios."

*** ***

Later that day, I arrived home from the gym. Like many other people, I gained a few pounds during the pandemic and then adding a depressional divorce sure didn't help. I was finally down to my goal of one hundred fifty-five pounds. Although, I would never be able to fit into my high school-day jeans, because of the curves my body has taken since childbirth. I was happy to work off some of the small pouch and excess fat that had gathered around my belly.

I steered my car into the driveway and parked beside my son's girlfriend's car. Amanda had been spending a lot more time at our house since her and my son graduated. Amanda had a dominant personality who surprised me sometimes with the things she said and did. She and my son began dating the previous Summer, just before their Senior year began. She was different than the other girls my son dated or talked to in his earlier years. Amanda was more mature and sometimes a little demanding, but Braxton sure seemed to love her, and I wasn't going to stand in their way.

As I entered the house, I pulled out the hair tie, allowing my long, wavy dark hair to rest on my shoulders. I sat down my gym bag and went straight to the kitchen. I wasn't really surprised to find the downstairs to be empty as I guzzled a bottle of water. After tossing the empty bottle in the trash, I pulled the bottom of my sports bra away from my sticky skin, allowing the d-cup girls to momentarily breath. Braxton and Amanda spent a lot of time in his bedroom when she was over. As an adult, I felt as if I knew what they were doing in there, but as a mother, I wished they hadn't.

As I climbed to the top of the stairs, I could hear faint heavy breathing. Again, as a mother, I could have gone the rest of my life without hearing that. My son's door was cracked open about two inches. Like a pervert, I stopped at his door and peaked inside. The room was dark except for the soft light emitting from the television. I leaned my head a little to the right and could see my son's bare and hairless body grinding up and down on Amanda. I froze in what I thought was shock, but later realized it was curiosity and envy. After what felt like minutes, but was actually a just few seconds, I witnessed Amanda turn her head slightly toward me. I locked my eyes on hers as I tried moving away. If there was a version of sleep paralysis that can happen when you are awake, I was experiencing it. At that moment, I should have ran away, or Amanda should have screamed, but instead, she flashed me a devious smile.

"I'm cumming," she whispered, between breaths. Amanda kept her blue eyes locked on me as long as she could before they began rolling back. "Right there, baby, don't stop," she said aloud, but as if she was saying it directly to me.

Braxton pulled his right leg up toward Amanda, unknowingly exposing himself to me. I knew I should have fled, or at least, walked away, but Amandas delightful expressions had my feet cemented to the floor. I could hear the faint slapping sound of my son's balls hitting his girlfriend's ass every time he thrusted deep inside her. The air filled with the sweet aroma of passionate love making.

Braxton forced Amanda's left leg up and her ankle to rest on his shoulder and pulled himself up onto his knees all in one move. "Oh, my God," Braxton sighed. "You feel so good."

"Fuck me hard," Amanda demanded. Her whimpers of ecstasy turned into full blown screams as my son, my darling son, my rock-hard son, drove deeper inside her. "Do you like it?" she asked, still looking at me.

At that moment, the cement broke, and I was able to pull myself away from the door. I hurried straight into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I didn't even bother touching the knob for hot water, because I definitely needed the cold shower that was about jolt my body and soul back to reality.

After the long cold shower, I headed downstairs to prepare dinner. My son's bedroom door was completely closed, so I assumed they were still in his room. I was not ready to see the girl whom my son just fucked into oblivion. When I turned the corner into the kitchen, I was met by a chipper blonde who wore the largest smile. She gleamed with satisfaction. I stopped in my tracks.

"Hey, Miss Lori," Amanda greeted me. Not surprised by my lack of ability to speak, she added, "Braxton and I are going make some dinner. Please join us." She reached toward me with a glass of wine. She had to take my hand and force my fingers around the glass.

"Hey, mom," Braxton said, as he dumped a box of pasta into a pot of boiling water. "It's not going to be anything fancy, but we'll cook for you tonight." He cocked his head to one side and then asked, "Is everything alright?"

I silently sat down in a chair at the round kitchen table. I sat nearest the door, in case I needed to run away. Even though, I had no idea where I would run to or how far I would have to go to avoid the interrogation of my watching the two of them. Nearly stuttering, I simply said, "Yes."

"I didn't hear you come in," my son said, as he stirred the sauce. "You must have had a rough workout." He added, suggesting a reason for my silence.

Amanda sat down to my left, propping her right foot on the seat with her. She wiggled her manicured toes as if I hadn't just seen them rubbing my son's ear twenty minutes earlier. She held a smile as she stared at me. "Have you done anything fun lately?" she asked, as if she wanted me to confess.

Braxton served me first. As he sat the plate down, I began to calm just a little. I figured if Amanda was going to say anything, she would have freaked out the moment she saw me. Or did she already tell my son? Does he know? Is that why he decided to cook me dinner? More questions and thoughts raced through my mind as they began eating as if nothing happened.

After dinner, Amanda and I cleaned the dishes as Braxton went off to do Braxton things. The awkward silence made me more nervous. "Umm," I mumbled, trying to break the silence. "Sorry," I stammered. Apologizing was the first thing I thought to do that made sense.

"I bet that was exciting, wasn't it?" Amanda inquired. She continued rinsing the plates as if what I did was normal. "You should have stayed a little longer," she said as she turned off the water. "You missed the best part."

I wiped my hands on a towel and hurried across the kitchen. What was she thinking? Did she think I came home hoping, praying, I would get a show? "I am very sorry," I apologized again, before heading toward the stairs.

"What is she sorry about?" Braxton asked Amanda as he walked past me.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, in earshot. I had wished Amanda would avoid the question, but at the same time, I had hoped she would tell him just to clear the air. I couldn't bear to listen, so I rushed upstairs and hid myself in my bedroom.

"We need to talk," Amanda said, just as I reached the top of the stairs.

*** ***

The sun peaked through the curtains as I awoke from a stressful night. It was a mostly sleepless night as I laid awake worrying about my son's reaction to his girlfriend telling him that his own mother perved on them the previous night. I could just imagine her telling him how I spied on him fucking his girlfriend. I tried playing a scenario in my mind of how my son would forgive me. However, the more I thought of excuses, the more the images of my son's rock-hard cock sliding easily in and out of Amanda's drench pussy. The sound of his balls slapping on her firm ass played in my head like a faint drum in tune with whimpers of ecstasy and heavy breathing. Before I realized it, I slid my index finger inside my panties, separating my lips. I leaned my head back as I allowed myself to be consumed by the re-play.

"Mom," I heard a voice say, immediately snapping be back. The door opened and in walked my son. He was once again wearing just a pair of thin gym shorts.

"Can I talk to you?"

Here it comes. Here comes the moment my son flipped on me. I instantly sat up in the bed, preparing for the lashing. I was too nervous to notice my hard nipples protruding through the transparent lingerie, until I noticed my son staring at them. I pulled the satin sheet over my chest.

"Amanda broke up with me this morning." Braxton said, as he sat on the edge of the bed.

I instantly felt a rush of heat come over me. I just knew it was my fault. What girl would want to date a guy with a pervy mother? "I am sorry, honey," I said, realizing that apologizing was becoming a new norm for me. Of all the scenarios that played through my head about the previous night never prepared me for what came next.

"She told me," Braxton began to explain. "Since she was going off to college in two weeks, that there was very little chance that a long-distance relationship would work." Braxton turned toward me, lifting his left leg on the bed.

Was she serious? Was that really her excuse? It wasn't that I watched them. Did she tell him about that too? "Is that all she said?" I nervously asked.

Braxton's expression became puzzled as he as asked, "Does that sound like bullshit to you?"

I barely listened to a word he said as my eyes drifted down his muscular body. I internally gasp when I realized the head of dick was peaking out the bottom of his shorts. It looked like a perfectly cut mushroom that was presenting itself for me to see or even fantasize about it. Not knowing what else to do, I reached my arms out, offering comfort to my son. He took the invitation and crawled up next to me, wrapping one arm around my waist. Using my left arm, I placed it around his neck, as I began caressing his hair.

My son's grip got a little tighter as he inched me closer to him. He let his had rest just below my right breast. My mind raced for what to say to him. Should I pry a little more to find out if Amanda had told him about me? No matter how I thought to ask, my voice remained silent. I decided to just let it go and live in the moment. I had been ages since I held my baby in my arms.

"It'll be okay, baby." I said, offering a comforting settlement. "Mommy will take care of you." What the fuck was I thinking, saying, Mommy?

"I know," my son said. "Thank you, Mommy." He added, adding a bit of excitement to my morning. Braxton slightly turned, planting his crotch against my bare thigh.

I looked down, witnessing my right nipple getting hard again. What the fuck was wrong with me? I could feel my son's semi-erection pressed against me. I took a deep breath and tried to ignore it. But then he thumped his dick against my leg. I pulled my leg slightly away from him, but Braxton inched closer to me once again.

He eased his hand up and under the sheet to rest just under my breast, almost as if he was holding it in place. I glared down at his bare chest and stomach, imagining running my fingertips across his chiseled abs. Instead, I used my right hand to trace the muscles in his arm. My son slid his hand a little higher, cupping the bottom of the breast.

I'll admit, it did feel nice to have someone touching me. It had been so long since anyone, especially a man snuggled his warm body next to mine. At that point, I sort of wished he would just grab my tit and squeeze. I always did like it a little rough, but my ex-husband was never into it. I thought how I could present myself to Braxton, so he knew it would be okay to touch me a little more. I knew I was allowing my intrusive thoughts to win when I placed my hand on top of his. He didn't pull away, so I pulled his hand a little higher, squeezing my hand around his.

"Mmm," I sighed, as my son rolled my nipple between his fingers. I felt his cock hardened against my leg. I couldn't believe I was not only allowing but encouraging my son to fondle me. I didn't know where it was going or how far I would go with my son, but I was living for the moment.

Braxton slid open my lingerie shirt, resting his clean-shaven face on my other breast. He slightly nudged, nodding his head, against me. I guided my son's hand down my stomach to rest on the lace of my panties. I closed my eyes, wishing for my son to ravage my yearning body. He allowed his fingertips to dance just above my landing strip. He began massaging the small patch of hair slowly, moving a little lower with each swirl of his finger. I spread my legs slightly apart, sending him an invitation. At that point, I believed my clit had its own pulse and I could hear it over the thudding of my heart. I knew it would only take a few seconds of my son flicking my clit and I would have to change the soaked sheets. I chewed my lower lip as I waited for Braxton to slide his finger just a little lower.

I moved my left leg, pushing my thigh into his crotch. I could feel him getting harder. I had wished he would just pull it out and lay it on my leg. I wanted to see if the rest of his cock was as beautiful as the head. I wanted to grab it. Squeeze it. Stroke it.

"Sorry," he said, as he pulled his hand away and then stood up. "I am so sorry," he pleaded again.

I was the one that was sorry. I should have never put him in that situation. I watched my son tug at his shorts as if those little shorts were going to hide his rock-hard cock. He turned toward the door to leave.

"If you need anything, Honey," I quickly said. "Mommy is here." Mommy is here. I sounded like a horny old broad offering to whore myself out to my hurting son. Then again, maybe I was.

After he left my room, I laid there in disbelief. Was I really trying to get my son to finger fuck me? What sort of mother was I? I figured I had better go talk to him. I pulled my shirt closed as I entered the hallway. I tip-toed over to his door and when I was about to knock, I heard soft moans. I glued my ear to his door and could hear Braxton stroking himself. Was that finally my moment? Should I have walked in and offered a helping hand? Or a helping mouth? I could at least see the rest of his eight-teen year-old cock. While I was trying to make up my mind, he let out a deep grunt. I could almost imagine the loads of cum spurting from his hard cock, shooting all over his belly. Should I have gone in and offered to help clean up? What the fuck was wrong with me? Instead, I hurried toward the bathroom for another frigid shower.

*** ***

The next couple of days, my son and I avoided each other as much as possible. Just a quick hello and good mornings were the extent of our conversations. We pretty much stayed in our own rooms and only came out when we thought the other was still hiding. I knew I went too far with him. I knew I should have confronted the elephant in the room and discussed what happened or what didn't happen. I should have tried to make sure he was okay with his break-up with Amanda. I definitely should not have tried to slide his finger in me.

Friday morning arrived and I began my day as normal. A quick breakfast and then a shower to wake up for my day as an online accountant. When I went back downstairs to pour another cup of coffee, Braxton was in the kitchen. I paused as he saw me. He was dressed for his day of work at the local hardware store. When I went to walk past him, he put up an arm, placing a hand against the wall, blocking my path.

"I've been thinking," he said. "The other morning was very nice. And, I am sorry that I stopped."

"It's probably for the better," I said, trying to reassure him that stopping was the right thing to do.

"Anyway," he said, as he leaned in close to me, causing me to back against the wall. "Since I already have reservations for tonight, do you want to go with me instead?"

My son had his lips so close to mine that I could taste his breath. The hint of mint filled my throat as I asked, "Like a date?" A date. Really? Who in the fuck goes on a date with their own son?

Braxton pressed his lips to mine, sending a bolt of electricity tingling through my chest and straight to my clit. He gently parted my lips with his tongue as he eased into my mouth. Those few seconds were the most passionate few seconds I have ever had in my entire life.

He pulled away and said, "Yes." He caressed my chin with his thumb and continued. "Yes, a date." As he walked away, he glanced back and smiled. "It's going to be a night we're never going to forget."

As the front door closed, I was still trying to remember why I went into the kitchen. My son had my thoughts scrambled. The words, we're never going to forget, replayed in my head. What did he mean? Did he plan to continue what we were doing the other morning? Was I even ready for that? I wasn't sure, but as I headed upstairs, I thought that I may get ready.

*** ***

Later that evening, my son stood outside my bedroom door waiting for me. "We have to get going soon," he said, through door.

I didn't get any work done because I couldn't concentrate. I spent all day waxing, applying lotion, and trying to find the perfect thing to wear for my first date in many years. I settled on a black dress with spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline. The bottom fell halfway down my silky-smooth thighs. I spent the previous two hours trying different hairstyles that would accentuate my neck and cleavage. When I couldn't decide, I just let my hair fall naturally. I slipped silver dangling earrings in as I took one last look in the mirror and thought, was I really trying to look appealing or even sexy for my own son? I thought I should have changed into something much more conservative.