Beyond the Borderline

As I took in the visual telltales and odor of Mom's evening of self-pleasure, my cock went from merely erect to high carbon steel hardness. I think I must have moaned in my throat, because Mom stirred slightly, eyelids fluttering. Stepping catlike, smoothly and silently to her side, I quickly bent over her, slipping one arm beneath her knees and the other around her lower back. Operating on pure limbic overdrive, I scooped her up, startling her into wakefulness.

"Whaaa....mnnpphhh...hunh?....... Ricky?" She mumbled, arms reflexively reaching around my neck to stabilize herself. She slowly woke up as I carried her across the living room.

"Ricky, what're you doing?"

I didn't respond; instead I buried my face in the crook of her neck, kissing her at the juncture of her soft throat and shoulder, just above the collarbone. I sucked her flesh into my mouth hungrily, Mom throwing her head back and moaning slightly. "Oooohhhh, baby..."

By now, I was at the top of the stairs, arms aching. My strength gave out and I set her on her feet next to the bedroom door. Pulling her close to me, I sought her lips, crushing them under my own with a growl. She melted against me, her tongue seeking out mine with equal passion, body pressed fully against me. I instinctively sought her breast with my right hand, my left arm still wrapped around her waist, holding her close. As I felt her nipple hardening beneath my palm, my other hand slipped to cup her ass cheek, pulling her pelvis tightly and insistently against my hardness. Mom then seemed to come to her senses, breaking her kiss with me. With an obvious shudder, she pushed me back slightly, slowly, very reluctantly removing my hand from her breast. "Oh my, baby..." she sighed, lips trembling, breath coming in tortured gasps. "We've got... to be... careful, sweetheart...She took in a gulping breath, looking at me with concern. "I can't...let...things...get out of...control...not yet, not ready yet," she whispered, breathing still labored.

I was in such a state of arousal that it sounded to me as though Mom was talking to me through a long cardboard tube, words faint and indistinct as my own pulse thundered in my ears. Reluctantly, I came partially back to the real world, trembling slightly, but still breathing through flared nostrils like an enraged bull. I was not able to formulate a coherent thought, completely unable to speak.

Mom had her arms on my shoulders and was looking at me intently, the hooded look of excitement in her eyes gradually being replaced by worry. "Ricky, relax. Get a hold of yourself. Settle down," she entreated me.

Slowly reclaiming a few shreds of self-control, I took a shuddering deep breath. She looked so desirable, so damn sexy that I felt myself beginning to slip again. With a moan, I took her right hand and brought it to my mouth, licking her taste off her fingers. "Oh my god." she exclaimed as her eyes widened in shock.

I bolted to the bathroom without looking back, slamming the door behind me as I shoved my pants and boxers to my ankles in one savage movement. Grasping and roughly stroking myself, I came almost immediately. "Ohhhgodddlooove yoooumom!" I cried, agony fusing with ecstasy.

Spent, I collapsed onto the toilet seat, panting like I had run up a dozen flights of stairs. I sank into a kind of stupor for ten or fifteen minutes, at one point hearing Mom outside the bathroom door. See seemed to stand there for several minutes without knocking, but then left. Shortly after that, I heard her bedroom door close softly, followed by the sounds of her shower starting up. I was in no state to go to sleep, so I cleaned up quickly and changed into shorts and a tee shirt. I then went back to the family room and turned on the TV, paying only marginal attention to the screen as I tried to regain my composure.

Probably 5 or 10 minute later, Mom came downstairs, dressed in some man pajamas and a bathrobe. She had a wholesome, freshly scrubbed look, but seemed very apprehensive as she came to stand by the sofa. "Ricky," she began hesitantly, "Are you okay?"

I smiled weakly. "I'm fine now Mom. Coming back and seeing you like that, well, it was a little too stimulating, I guess."

"You scared me, you were so intense."

I immediately felt terrible. "Oh, Mom, I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me. It's just that sometimes, you just turn me on so much..."

I held my hands out to her. "Please sit with me for a few minutes, okay?"

Mom bit her lip, not meeting my eyes at first. After a long moment, she ran her hand through her hair absently and looked up to me, sighing apologetically.

"I'm sorry too, sweetheart. I didn't want to shut you down so hard, but I felt like things were starting to get out of control... It was too intense, too quick for me, baby," she exhaled gustily, "I was afraid things were happening too fast," she said, voice trailing away.

Reaching out to her, I finally captured her fingers in my hands, gently pulling her down next to me and I put my arms around her. "I love you Mom. I won't forget my promise. I'm sorry I frightened you." I buried my face in her hair, taking a deep breath of her clean scent, once again inhaling soap and sandalwood. I held her this way for some time and she gradually relaxed, putting her hands over my arms as I lightly rocked her. Hesitantly, I asked her, "Are you still going out with me tomorrow night?"

She squeezed my forearms and tilted her head back to kiss my cheek. "Of course, Ricky."

I heaved a large sigh of relief and then stirred slightly, in preparation of getting up, but Mom pushed back against me, holding my forearms tighter. "Going somewhere, buster?"

She scooted back towards me, her hips forcing my knees apart until her buttocks were pushed up against my perpetually aching crotch, back resting on my chest. Turning her head back to me, she said, "Let's try that again, darling. I do trust you, you know."

She found my lips for a reassuring kiss. As our lips joined a second time, her tongue immediately sought mine. She tasted of toothpaste, clean and cool. Flicking and lashing together, she sucked me into her mouth and broke our kiss with a small sigh, a silvery string of saliva stretching between our lips. Resuming the kiss with a sigh, she pressed her lips even harder against mine. Never breaking our contact, Mom moved my hands from her waist and undid the sash of her robe. Thrusting her tongue urgently into my mouth, she sought out my hands and squeezed them and them brought them up and placed them on her breasts. "Mmmmm, Ricky, please touch me," she whispered.

"Mom... are you sure?"

"It's okay, baby, it's okay," she whispered reassuringly.

I felt like I had been bodily transported to paradise. I gently cupped each soft, supple heaviness through the material of her pajama tops, slowly running my fingers all over and around those sublime orbs, lightly probing and sliding, committing every millimeter of her wonderful contours to memory. When I delicately ran my fingertips over her hardening nipples the first time, she gasped into my mouth and moaned.

"Ooohh, baby, that feels so nice."

As I gently palmed her breasts through the light flannel of the pajama top, now lightly squeezing her nipples between my fingertips, Mom began to push herself back against my straining groin. The pressure was unbearable and I began to involuntarily thrust forward to meet her, feeling the smooth contour of her lower back through the layers of fabric. As I continued to knead her breasts, paying more vigorous attention to her nipples, she began moaning almost continuously into my mouth as our kiss continued, still tasting each other's tongues. I could feel the pressure beginning to build in my groin as I dry-humped Mom's back. Her hands had been resting on top of mine, gently holding them in place on her breasts as I caressed her, but now, I saw her drop her right hand to her abdomen, fingers disappearing beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms. She stiffened slightly, moaning into my mouth, her own hand moving beneath the front of her pajama pants.

I was incredibly excited by the sight, my fingers lightly pinching her nipples through the flannel of her PJs as she began to stroke herself. Unable to contain myself, I quickly unbuttoned her top, my hands rapidly finding their way back to her heaving chest.

Holding my mother's bare breasts in my hands for the first time, I marveled at their silky heft, the warm smoothness of her skin. Tracing my fingers around the slight bumpiness at the perimeter of her areolae, I sought the small erect monuments of her nipples with my fingertips, lightly pinching and kneading them. Exhaling her breath in a sibilant hiss, Mom arched her back to push herself more fully into my clasping hands.

"Oh, baby, that's so good. Yessssss, just like that. Touch your Mommy."

She must have been at least as turned on as I was, because after only a few seconds of my stimulation and her stroking her own slit, she cried out and arched her back even more, exhaling sharply into a long, drawn out sigh. "Ahhhhh, god! Riickeeee..."

As she raised her hips in climax, I suddenly found mine sliding underneath her bottom. She immediately responded by grinding down into my crotch. My cock now nestled into the crack of her ass, I continued my humping movements. It was immediately too much for me. I stiffened myself, feeling a great tightness beginning in my groin and spreading outwards. I pushed upwards against her back crevice, raising her wonderful firm cheeks further off the sofa, crashing into my own orgasm. "Ahhhhhmygodmygod Mooooooooooom!" I must have ejaculated at least a half dozen huge ropes of cum, completely saturating my shorts and immediately soaking through to dampen the seat of Mom's pajamas.

With a shudder, I collapsed completely back onto the couch, twitching with the nearly unbearable pleasure of my climax. Mom was also totally spent, her chest heaving and flushed from her arousal, a light sheen of perspiration on her face and upper chest, as she settled back against me. I let my hands slide down off her breasts with a sigh, resting them on warm softness of her belly, hugging her close. Her arms closed over mine and she sighed contentedly. We lay quietly like this for some minutes, not speaking, just breathing and holding, until Mom spoke.

"My bottom is all wet, you naughty boy," she whispered. "I need to get cleaned up, and so do you."

We struggled to our feet, knees wobbly, slowly making our way upstairs. I cleaned myself off quickly in the bathroom, wincing with the contact of the cold, wet washcloth on my cock and balls. Putting on a fresh pair of shorts, I went to Mom's room. As I walked through the doorway, Mom was just shrugging a nightgown over he shoulders, her back to me. For a brief moment, I could see the flawless skin of her back, the elegant, elongated and serrated curve of her spine, her perfect buttocks encased in a pair of plain, white, cotton bikini panties. As the gown settled around her calves, Mom turned and started, seeing me in the doorway. "Were you peeking, mister?"

"Maybe just a little, Mom. You are so beautiful."

"Well, beautiful or not, I'm tired. It's bed time."

I walked over to the bedside and turned down the covers. "I'll tuck you in." I got her settled and pulled the covers up under her chin. I sat on the edge of the bed, and kissed her lightly on her lips, touching her cheek lightly. "G'night, my gorgeous mother, sleep well."

"Good night, son. Off with you now, get some rest." She closed her eyes, a half smile on her lips. Her eyelids fluttered then she was elsewhere.

But I didn't leave. Captivated, I stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep for almost half an hour, taking in every detail of her face. The worry lines on her forehead slowly smoothed away and her breathing became soft and regular. I could see the slight flare of her delicate nostrils every time she exhaled. Gradually, I could detect the movement of her eyes beneath their lids as she began to dream. A small smile appeared on her lips and did not fade. When I went to bed, I also slept with a smile, heavily and dreamlessly.

When I swam my way back to consciousness the next morning, it was already well past 10 am. It was a typical August morning, sky a bluish gray haze of suspended dust and suffocating humidity, the beginnings of cumulus clouds evident, likely foretelling afternoon thundershowers. After I deflated my morning wood, I went downstairs to the kitchen. A pot of hot coffee was already on, a note beside it. It read, "Ricky - I'm out doing some shopping for tonight. See you later this afternoon. Love and Kisses, Mom. P.S. Keep you hands out of your pants today. XO m."

As I stood in the middle of the kitchen, reading and rereading the note, I was torn between exasperation and breathless anticipation. Was she just teasing me? That thought was torture on one hand, but strangely reassuring and satisfying on the other. It felt like an affectionate, intimate jest between lovers.

The other possibility was, of course, a direct request. "Don't be whacking off, big guy. I've got plans for this evening," I imagined her voice in my head, throaty and sultry.

It didn't bear any further thought, I concluded. Spending any more time trying to read between the lines would only drive me crazy. I carefully folded the paper and put it in my shirt pocket, patting it once for good luck, a small smile on my face. I mentally squared my shoulders and set about getting something to eat.

As I sat in the breakfast nook, sipping a mug of coffee and absently chewing on some toast, I reviewed my mental checklist for the evening's activities. I had one or two details to double check, but most everything was in order. I reread Mom's note, a stupid-silly smile on my face. I finished my coffee and headed out the door.

Necessary stops this morning included the florist and dry cleaners. I took my time, knowing if I sat around at home, I'd be a candidate for a rubber room before the day was out. When I got back, Mom was still out. I surfed the web, made a few desultory attempts at using my old PlayStation, paced around the house, tried reading a book, paced around the house, tried taking a nap, paced around the house and then to break up the monotony, I paced around the house.

Mom finally arrived home just before 4, breezing through the kitchen with several shopping bags. She gave me a glancing kiss and swept upstairs. "Gotta start getting ready for my hot date, kiddo," she called over her shoulder. "I'll be ready by 6. See ya." With that she was gone. Shortly after, I heard her drawing a bath.

Of course I was ready long before Mom came down. I had dressed in a dark, raw silk blazer, which Mom had bought for me for job interviews, some charcoal slacks and a white shirt and tie. I sat in the family room, idly surfing the channels while I waited for Mom to make her appearance. Finally, about 5 minutes before we needed to leave, I heard her bedroom door open. I quietly pulled out my cellphone and speed-dialed. I said, "We're ready," and hung up quickly. Then she came down the stairs.

Sweet Jesus.

As anxious as I felt before, as taxing as the wait was, I would have gladly endured a month of pacing and hand wringing to see what was now in front of me.

She was clad in a brilliant deep crimson, sequined evening dress. It was designed in sheath fashion, flowing diagonally off her right shoulder, the left exposed. The smooth fabric draped across her chest in the same line, leaving the upper portion of her left chest and the top third of her left breast bare. It flowed over the slight, sexy, womanly bulge of her belly and then her hips, ending in an asymmetric, slanting hemline which nearly reached to her left knee, but left a long, delectable expanse of her smooth right thigh exposed. A pair of glossy, sheer hose and matching red pumps completed the effect. It was elegant. It was sophisticated. It was alluring. It was my wettest dream, encased in sparkles, sequins and ruby silk. When she reached the last step, she paused briefly, hand on bannister, one gorgeous leg extended above the last step, ankle slightly cocked.

"Fuck me running," I muttered under my breath.

Mom turned around slowly once when she got to the bottom of the stairs, looking at me expectantly. I gulped and cleared my throat.

"Ehhmmmm. Mom. Unbelievable!" I croaked.

"You like it?"

There was only one response. I closed the distance between us and kissed her hard. Her eyes widened in surprise and then her arms came around my neck as she returned the favor, tongue lightly dancing on my lips. She broke the kiss and took a deep breath, palm on my chest.

"Whew! I guess I had my question answered, big boy."

"There's only one thing needed to complete your outfit, pretty lady." I quickly stepped into the dining room and brought out the fruits of my visit to the florist, hiding them behind my back. I came back into the foyer and presented a large bouquet of mixed red, orange and deep pink roses to Mom.

She took in a quick breath of surprise and teared up. "Oh Ricky, sweetheart! You didn't need to do this. They're perfect, so beautiful! Thank you so much, darling!" That earned me another heartfelt, passionate kiss.

I picked one newly opening red rose from the bouquet and handed it to Mom. "We'll take this with us."

I took her hand a led her towards the front door. "The car, Ricky?" she questioned.

"I made other arrangements," I replied. The timing was perfect. As we stepped out onto the porch, the limo pulled up to the curb.

I have to be honest and say that I've never been a big fan of the various kinds of stretch vehicles that seem to be so popular these days for proms and other special events. I find them to be vulgar and ostentatious. This car, on the other hand, was perfect for the occasion. It was a gleaming, midnight black, 6 door Mercedes Grand 600, about 1970 vintage. It was the perfect combination of luxury and understated, sophisticated elegance.

Mom gripped my arm in surprise. "Ricky! How did you manage..."

"I have my ways, Mom. I know lots of people in the City and through Uncle Louie too."

She pulled me close and leaned her head on my shoulder as we strolled to the sidewalk. "I love you, son," she whispered.

"I told you I wanted us to have a memorable evening, Mom." I put my arm around her shoulder and hugged her close. "I love you too, you know."

The driver stood ready at the door, holding it open for us. "Good evening, Mr. Lindermann, ma'am. My name is Lydia. It will be my pleasure to be your driver this evening. Please make yourself comfortable and we'll get under way shortly."

I handed Mom into the back and joined her. After closing our door, Lydia slid behind the steering wheel and turned to look at us, eyes taking Mom in with appreciation. "Sorvino's as planned, sir?"

"Yes, please," I replied.

"Very good, sir." Lydia paused for a moment and quietly cleared her throat. "I hope I'm not being too forward, but may I say that I seldom have the opportunity to chauffeur such an attractive couple? Madame is particularly beautiful this evening."

"Thank you Lydia, and no, you're not out of line. I couldn't agree more," I replied, squeezing Mom's hand.

Our driver turned her attention to the dashboard and pushed a button. A thick, smoked glass partition rose with a whisper in front of us and then we were enveloped in luxurious silence as the Benz pulled smoothly away from the curb.

Mom snuggled under my arm and put her hand on my knee. "Sorvino's eh? I can't remember the last time I went out for dinner and dancing."

"You deserve it, Mom. Can I interest you in some champagne?"

"Mmmmm. Yes, please. Not five minutes out of the house and you're already spoiling me rotten."